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One thing I knew—I wanted my mother, and I couldn’t reach out to her. Had I already killed her? Us? If I could have sobbed, I would have, but nothing was working right. I was in a deep, dark abyss of pain. It was about to swallow me whole when a thought, like a tiny dot of light at the end of a long, dark tunnel, gave me some hope. I could hear my father tell me a story about Princess Sorrel.
Princess Sorrel had a very special light within her heart. That light could vanquish any darkness and heal people who were sick. But she had to be very careful with her light. While light illuminates and helps plants and even ideas grow, if it burns too brightly or for too long, it can destroy anything.
I could see my father using his clippers to cut off a bunch of ripe red grapes from one of the vines in our vineyard. He held it up, and I picked a grape off it, popping it into my mouth. With one bite, sweet juice tickled my taste buds.
These grapes, my love, not only needed the light but the earth, and even the dark, to grow. Remember that. Promise me.
I promise.
The light at the end of the tunnel was growing brighter. I tried to reach for it but couldn’t quite touch it. Eric’s voice was also getting louder. You have all you need inside of you to heal yourself. Was that true? Even if it was, I didn’t know how.
Follow your heart, my father seemed to whisper to me.
I wasn’t sure if I could; my heart felt so broken. My mother was going to die because of me. Eric betrayed me. Were my feelings for him even real? His father had said the curse had played a wicked game with us. Those thoughts made the light grow dimmer. I grasped for what light remained, as it was quickly retreating. With it the pain grew.
Follow your heart, Sorrel.
I was afraid. Afraid to believe in Eric. To face what lay before me if I did wake up. Afraid of death.
You promised me you would be brave.
I know. I don’t if I can.
You must break this curse.
How? By dying?
What does your heart say?
I tried to quiet my fears and listen. Yet now that I knew more frightening things existed than I could possibly imagine, it was hard to find any peace.
You must live. Eric’s voice broke through the fear and confusion.
I took hold of that thought, and the light began to grow. So much so that I could feel the warmth of it. It started in my chest and trickled slowly outward, like a glaze slowly drizzling down a cake. As the warmth spread, the pain disappeared. My headache was gone, and my body relaxed. That was until I heard voices and was conscious enough to realize I was lying bound on a cold, damp floor. Worse, the stench of dead fish filled not only my nostrils but my mouth and lungs, making me want to vomit. I stopped myself so as not to alert the barbaric men who had taken me.
I dared to peek one eye open to gauge where I was, other than hell on earth. From my limited view, I saw several overturned rotting wood crates, debris from broken bricks, and piles of trash. Based on that and the fact that I didn’t detect any artificial light, just some hazy natural light filtering in, my guess was that I was in an old warehouse. My captors were far enough away that I briefly flashed both eyes open. That gave me a clearer picture of the three men clustered in a circle and . . . an old woman with a bent back was hovering near them muttering to herself. I couldn’t make out what she was saying, but the way she was rubbing her hands together and the sinister smile on her face didn’t fill me with any warm, fuzzy feelings.
I shut my eyes and tried to control my shivering before they realized I was awake. The warmth I’d felt previously had turned to lingering embers. It didn’t help when I realized how much my wrists and ankles ached from being tied up. I had no idea how to free myself or get my book. Where was my book?
As if in response to my question, I heard Vincent say, “Stay away from the book, woman. It’s not meant for mortals to touch.”
“The bloody curse you thrust on me allows me to, you bastard,” the woman raged in a British accent.
Was that woman Eric’s mother? How old was she? How old was Eric? He did seem to act older. This was all too much for me to process.
“Focus,” one of the other men said. “We don’t have time for your marital squabbles.”
