Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
In the early times I would fight this, the instinct to cough and pull it out so overwhelming, I’d usually pass out from the fear. Which was a good thing, since choking is no fun.
But I have learned to control the instinct to expel the alien invader. My mouth is open wide and so is my mind.
Give it to me, I tell the Darkness.
Give me everything you have.
Give me all the magic, give me all the darkness, give me all the power.
Make me the creator.
Give me the blood.
My body swells with it. All of Little Baby’s blood is put inside me. And when I can take no more, I turn over, positioning myself on top of her lifeless body, and then I kiss her, expelling the darkness out of me and back into her. A moment later, she gasps too, expelling the Darkness again. My mouth is right over hers, so it comes back into me.
We do this—a special version of the long drink—many more times. Hundreds of times. Enough times so that the Darkness can enter my cells too, change my DNA too, and give me its power.
It’s not for me, though. I am but a vessel. A delivery mechanism.
This blood of mine will be shared when Paul, Ryet, and I help Syrsee make a baby.
She will get some, they will get some—and they will give it back to me. And then we’ll do that again, and again, and again until a new Darkness is growing inside her.
When I wake up the Darkness is gone.
There is no trace of purple mist, just the dampness that exists everywhere under the earth.
Little Baby’s body is beside me. She is not dead. It won’t let her die, not yet. It will play with her for a while. Use her to make things, I suppose. Experiment a little. She’s a lab rat now.
And I am ever so thankful. So I turn on my side and caress her sliced-up cheek as I gaze into her traumatized eyes. I think they were originally green? Or blue? I can’t remember. Then they turned gold but they are pink now. It looks good on her.
I lean down and press my lips to hers. Then I bite my tongue and give her a little parting gift. Just a few drops to get her through the pain. After that I whisper, “Be a good little baby. I’ve got to run.”
I don’t want to leave. I rather like it down here. Love the smell. Love it so much. And the mist, even though it’s just a regular mist of humidity now that the Darkness has retreated.
But big things are happening topside and I must participate.
So I get to my feet, lift my arms up above my head as I arch my back, stretching. And then I let out a sigh.
“Until next time, my Darkness.”
Then I take my leave.
Unfurling my wings and gliding back up to the outside world.
18 - Syrsee
This is how I got here.
Iopen the box up and find… I have no idea. Something old and, from the look of the patina, made of copper.
It’s a disc with an elaborate design that might’ve been pulled straight out of the dreamwalk I took with Lucia after Paul beheaded her.
The exact moment when Coyrah, the Ice Maiden, tamed the aquis equī and turned into the night mare.
The Horse and Rider. Which, now that I think about it, feels like a very important symbol for the Guild and not so much any kind of representation of me.
It’s off-putting. Why does the Guild identify with this horse and rider symbol? I mean, they’ve put it up everywhere. And I get it, it’s a logo for the Guild Lounge, or whatever. But why this symbol if it’s all about me?
This is when I notice that there is an aged yellow envelope attached to the underside of the lid. The flap has been sealed with purple wax that is turning black along the edges and embossed with the same horse and rider symbol.
It appears to my untrained eye that this envelope has never been opened. There is clearly something inside the envelope because it’s bulging a bit.
I pause here. Am I supposed to unseal this thing? What if it’s a trap? What if there’s a curse inside? What if there’s some kind of poisonous powder that pops out at me?
I roll my eyes and sigh, then grip the edge of the paper and rip the seal open. The wax lifts up, taking a layer of the paper with it. I pull out a small book that has a stitched binding. When I open it up, I find seven small watercolor paintings, again depicting the scene that Lucia showed me in that dreamwalk. Coyrah, the Ice Maiden, taming the aquis equī.
But the last picture is different. It’s an illustration of a woman—who may or may not be me—holding the disc up. Looking into it and seeing her reflection. There is writing, which I don’t understand, along with a few symbols, also indecipherable, but I think it’s showing me a mirror.