Page 146 of The Trials of Ophelia

“But in case?—”

“I promise, Ophelia,” he said, bending down to meet my eyes better. “But it won’t be necessary.”

He returned to the others, then, and I faced the arresting power. With the distractions gone, it became a siphon. Dropping down, I swung my legs over the edge, tugged on my rope twice to give the signal that I was moving, and lowered into the pit.

My arms shook as I turned, bracing myself against the rock and securing my grip.

“No,” I told my body. “There will be no nerves today.”

The Mindshapers were creatures of mental strength and emotional complexities. Manipulation, while possible for evil, could also be a skill. My emotions today were mine to regulate. I was Ophelia Alabath, Revered of the Mystique Warriors, Chosen of the Angels, and I was stronger than fear.

Closing my eyes and inhaling, I practiced the meditative breathing Ric had advised me in. I’d asked him if he would be able to use his magic to calm my nerves while I was in the pit, but he said no. It didn’t surprise me. This task was about independent control and emotional balance.

Instead, I summoned serene memories. Riding Sapphire, exploring Damenal at night, quiet moments with my friends around a splintered tavern table, Tol’s breath tickling my neck as we laid together in comfortable silence or vibrant laughter.

I forced those thoughts to the surface as I slowly lowered one foot down and made sure each movement was strong. Certain. Muscles in my thighs, glutes, and abdominals all braced. Tension in my arms. Hands wrapped tightly around the rope we’d all taken care to create, love and sweat and the strength of those waiting poured into it.

The lower I got in the descent, the smaller the mystlights were above. I was careful to attach myself to each anchor with the clips Ric had provided, tugging to make sure they were secure before I moved. I couldn’t hear anyone’s voice—didn’t know if they were talking or standing in nervous silence.

That chilled presence wrapped around me again.

Fingers whispered across my skin beneath my leathers, feeling alive and cognizant of me, and I shivered.

Then, one of the straps around my shoulder slipped. And I was falling, holding in a scream.

My palms slid down the rope, boots skidding on rock.

I grappled for that lifeline with my heart careening through my chest. As I locked my fingers around it, the force of my fall spun my body out and swung me back toward the wall. I slammed into rock, and pain radiated through my right shoulder.

“Fucking Spirits,” I swore, teeth clenching at the impact.

The rope tugged from above, but I pulled back twice to signal I was okay. Not three times—I did not want them to hoist me up yet.

Shoulder throbbing, I waited for my heart rate to return to normal, though my second pulse refused to calm. A hot, vicious ache pounded through my body. I hesitated a moment longer to see if the chilled presence continued to investigate me, but no more tendrils caressed my skin.

It was there, though.

Its eyes—if it had eyes—burrowed into me. Exhaling, I gathered my peaceful memories again and continued down. I kept as much tension as possible in my uninjured arm, grimacing each time I needed to use my right hand to shuffle downward. It slowed the descent, but it was necessary.

With each foot, the darkness shifted.

It became sweet, a flavor and scent tempting me to its depths. Flashes of salacious images prodded my carefully-curated memories, fingers curling around the edges. Teeth on skin and sweat-flecked flesh moving together. Moans and cries of pleasure floated with the images, bringing them to life.

I fought back with images of my own, calming and grounding. With braiding Sapphire’s mane and the slide of her silky hair between my fingers. With the sounds of dawn breaking over the Mystique Mountains and the tickle in my Bond.

As I focused on moving one foot at a time, darkness thickened. That temptation solidified, harder to resist.

Descending into this pit was entering a place of primal lust.

Give in, little seraph child, the darkness cooed in a voice neither male nor female but fluctuating between the two. Come play, and forget that which frightens you.

I couldn’t answer. It was all I could do to force my memories to the surface, because the purpose of the ghostly voice struck me: by telling me to forget my fears, they hoped I would bring them to the surface. Let them breathe down a gulp of air before shoving them to the depths of my cavernous heart.

If I did, the alluring darkness would latch on to them and feed me my own terror.

Instead, I doubled my efforts. Sweat beaded across the back of my neck where the Bond was inked, and I focused on those mountains. The purpose and peace they instilled in me.

My shoulder ached, but I thought of Tolek’s hands exploring my body instead. The joints in my fingers screamed, but I remembered the calluses I worked so hard to form in training and the power in my blood when I wielded Starfire and Angelborn.

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