The Blood is Love (Dark Eyes 2)

I’ll just have to attempt this on my own.

I close my eyes and I try to picture the dark well within me. I imagine going inward, into myself, the world as I know it, this outside world, slipping away the deeper I go in, into the darkness, into a soft, smooth, cool place inside.

I picture diving down into the black, picture my descent until I see the well, illuminated by only a crescent moon. Everything I need, everything I want, is in that dark endless space. I imagine my arms outstretched, palms to the water, bringing the water up against gravity, like a reverse waterfall flowing into me.

Jeremias, I call him, directed at the well. Jeremias I need your help.

My words seem to echo inside of me, like soundwaves off the wall of a cave.

Then…

Are you sure, my child? I hear his voice slither into my head, like a centipede crawling up my spine.

The venomous kind.

Yes, I’m sure, I answer.

And I wait.

I wait to be whisked off to another dimension. Or for him to knock at my door. Perhaps teleport into my living room or fly in through the bathroom window.

But that doesn’t happen.

Instead, the black infinite well that I’m imagining is changing. Becoming larger somehow. So much so that, when I open my eyes, it’s all I see. I don’t see my apartment, I don’t see anything except the well. And when I look down at myself, I’m a ghost. My skin is transparent, showcasing the black void underneath, my pale skin is rising in tiny tendrils, like mist on a field.

Where am I? I ask, looking around, trying not to panic but the feeling of wrongness is too overwhelming. Am I…inside myself?

You are here, Jeremias says as he steps out of the void. His black cloak melts seamlessly with the nothingness, so all I see is his ever-changing face. Here is all you need to be.

It’s cold here, and I don’t get cold easily these days. I attempt to wrap my arms around myself, but they just pass through me. Okay, that is not a good feeling.

Why did you call upon me? he asks. I didn’t expect to see you so soon. In fact, I didn’t expect to see you at all.

I…I begin. I just need a way to figure out how to control Solon. When he’s the beast. The monster. I need to be able to do what you did, how you made him sleep. It’s the only way I’ll be able to be with him and not live in fear.

Oh, but fear is good for you, my child, Jeremias says, giving me a fleeting smile. It strengthens you. Are you not stronger now that you are afraid?

That’s an odd way of looking at it. I’d rather not be afraid at all, I admit. Solon, he told me I wasn’t special.

Ouch, he says dryly.

I almost laugh. Yeah, ouch. Not special enough to tame the beast and I just…you’re special. You were able to control it. I want to do what you did. I want to learn. Will you teach me?

Jeremias stares at me for a moment. With his changing face, I have to look away. Step forward, he says, without answering my question.

I look down and see the water of the well beginning to lap my feet. I hesitate for a moment, then I walk with my see-through legs. Suddenly the bottom gives out from under me, if there even was a bottom to begin with, and I’m sinking straight down into the darkness, like I’ve been submerged in black ink. It goes over my head and I open my mouth to scream, but instead the water rushes into my lungs, choking me.

Suddenly a pair of hands appear and grabs my arms, hauling me out of the water until I find myself on dry ground, a pebbled beach. Slowly I lift my head, blinking.

It’s dark here too, but it’s not as dark as the void. I’m no longer inside myself, at least I don’t think so. I’m lying on the shore of a lake, at night, and in front of me is a circle of fire, Jeremias standing in the middle of it, a row of dark trees behind him.

“Where am I now?” I mutter to myself, spitting out water. The water is black, and the sight sends a wave of revulsion down my spine. “Wait, let me guess, one of the many worlds I have access to.”

When Jeremias doesn’t respond, I glance up at him. He looks extra menacing with the flames all around him, the fire dancing in his dark eyes. “Sorry, sarcasm is a coping mechanism,” I tell him.

“I can see that,” he says after a moment.

“So,” I say, getting to my feet and walking toward him. The flames keep me back, so I stop just outside of the circle. “Is this the magical training ground?”