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He drops the unlit torch and the exposed end of the rope down the hole and looks up at me. “Ready?”
“No.” I back up a step and hug my arms. “Hell no.” I know it’s irrational that I have a fear of small spaces. A small space never killed anyone, and yet, it’s there, it’s real, and I’d rather face a whole village of angry pixies than be in a space where I can’t fully stretch out my arms.
During the years I was on the streets, I had to keep my cloaking spell on constantly to keep from being discovered. But since I can’t cloak myself while sleeping, I had to sleep tucked in small spaces to keep anyone from stumbling upon me. All the fear and anxiety of those years come back to me when faced with being in confined spaces.
Daimis stops and raises his brows. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
I just glare at him and wait for the ridicule. He studies me for a moment and something I can’t quite read crosses his face. “Very well. You can stay here then.” He starts to lower himself into the opening, and just before his head dips below the rocks, he looks up at me. “You do realize that I win this one, right?” He says then disappears into the hole.
I pace back and forth for a moment, arms on my hips. I huff a laugh. What a ridiculous thing to say. He can’t win if I don’t participate. This isn’t a competition, so why would he even say that? The pompous ass. I stop pacing and stare at the hole. A pompous ass who’s currently showing me up.Me?Ugh. I take a deep breath, grab the rope, and follow Daimis into the hole before I lose my nerve.
As I lower myself inch by agonizing inch into the cramped space, the rock claws at my clothes like sharp fingernails, threatening to grasp me and keep me there. Why did I let Daimis goad me into this? My heart races, thundering louder than a waterfall, pulsing in my fingers, and roaring in my head. My breathing increases, and yet I can’t get enough air in my lungs.
“Knew you wouldn’t let me have all the fun,” Daimis says from below.
I can’t talk. I can’t breathe. I just can’t.
“Hey, it’s okay, don’t stop,” Daimis says. His voice has taken on a soothing tone. “Keep moving, little by little. You’re doing great.”
I let his familiar voice guide me, and continue lowering, though it does nothing for the panic that continues to fill me with its suffocating presence. It’s a smothering blanket that no matter how hard I try to throw it off, to wiggle free from it, I can’t. It clings and weighs me down.
“The space opens up more down here,” Daimis calls to me. “Come on. Just a little more.”
I keep at it until I feel the rocks disappear from around me, and Daimis’s strong hands wrap around my waist. “Let go, I’ve got you.”
I want to argue against his help, but my limbs are so heavy. I’m dizzy and I still can’t catch my breath. I fall into his arms, finally feeling secure and safe. He gently sets me down on my knees.
“I can’t breathe,” I push out in between breaths.
Daimis kneels in front of me and takes my face in his hands, forcing me to stare into his unwavering green eyes. “Breath with me, slow it down. In,” he says, taking a slow breath in. “And out,” he lets the breath out. “Come on, with me. In… And out.In… Out.”
I concentrate on following his instructions, breathing in when he says in, and out when he says out.In. Out. In. Out. Eventually, my heart beats slow, and I no longer feel the vice-like grip of panic.
Daimis moves his hands to my shoulders and gives them a little squeeze. “Better?”
I nod, and then drop my gaze, the first waves of shame and embarrassment wash over me. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Don’t do that,” Daimis releases one of my shoulders to lift my chin so that I’m looking at him. “Never apologize for being a survivor.”
“How do you know—”
“I recognize the after-effects of trauma when I see it.” His thumb brushes along my jaw. “I also recognize the strength of someone who has persevered despite it.”
Daimis doesn’t know who I really am, and yet he’s the first person to seeme. A lump of emotion lodges in my throat, and I have to fight back the urge to curl into his arms and cry. I swallow, then back out of his touch before I do something I might regret. “Thank you,” I manage.
He gives me a small smile. “Anytime.”
“How did you know what to do?”
“I was fortunate enough to have someone who helped me through my own episodes. They were very much like yours.”
Of course he’d had lasting damage from the night of the Blood Moon. His father was murdered brutally in front of him that night. And the sight of the guards killing not only my father, but almost every other magic user in the castle, was terrible for any child to witness. For years, every time I closed my eyes, the images of that night were all I saw. Now, they at least stay in my nightmares.
I think of a young Daimis, needing someone else to help him through the horrors of that night and regret it wasn’t me, that we couldn’t have helped each other through it. But then I’m sure if he’d known I survived that night, he wouldn’t have wanted my comfort. Not from the daughter of the sorcerer who caused all the pain and suffering.
“Are you ready to move on?” he asks.
That’s when I realize that I can see him. It should be pitch dark down here. When there’s no light for my shadow sight to pull from, I’m as blind as everyone else. But there is light, it’s a faint blue.
