Guinevere yanked her hand back from the pedestal and we sat down after another failure. It had been weeks since we had made our blood pact and we had yet to get through a new memory. I’d lost track of how long we’d been down here for certain and started marking off ticks on the wall of our hut for every day that passed. At this point I think I’d been down here underground for longer than I’d been in the forest above. The island was peaceful, the soft murmuring of the river a constant backdrop and the soft whites and luminescent plants providing a stark contrast against the mud and grey black stones. It was a beautiful place… and I hated it.
I wanted action and battle and was stuck here. Training against Guinevere wasn’t the same we had a pact not to try and kill the other person and even though she pushed me to my limits every single day there was never that threat of looming death over me that I craved. I was a junkie and going through withdrawals as I was denied the thrill of battle. I longed for the waves of monsters to find us but they never approached the tower.
“I’m sorry,” Guinevere said.
“What for?” I asked distracted by my own inner thoughts.
“For not being able to show you…that,” she gestured at the pedestal. “It’s not you, I’m not ashamed to show that to you. It’s just….”
Guinevere trailed off unable to finish her sentence.
“You don’t want to experience that again,” I said understanding.
“Yeah,” Guinevere agreed.
“Can I ask you what happened in there?” I asked.
Guinevere sucked in her breath. “I was stuck in that maze for a week. I had to crawl on my hands and knees through cracks and eat bugs and drink water that tasted like piss. But the worst part was the silence, the darkness and being all alone.”
“You mentioned that you’re afraid of being alone,” I said nodding as I recalled our past conversation.
This time Guinevere didn’t protest my statement.
“Yes,” she admitted.
Hesitantly I took Guinevere’s hand. “It’s just the past Guinevere, you’re not actually there this time. When you are feeling alone just remember I’m right there with you.”
Guinevere swallowed and nodded. She didn’t let go of my hand as we stood and placed our hands back onto the pedestal. Our fingers slid into the handprints and our minds went black.
--
The memories played out again, I pushed aside my own anger and focused on the feelings Guinevere was exuding. I watched as Merlin pushed child Guinevere into the pit. The entrance closed and she was left in darkness. While I mostly disconnected from my body, I could dimly feel her hand crushing mine with superhuman strength. I gently squeezed it to let her know I was there.
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“Find the way-out Guinevere,” Merlin said. “You need to show me your brave.”
The light disappeared and Guinevere was left in darkness.
Crying she crawled through the darkness. Her head smacked against the cave wall and she recoiled backwards in pain. Blood trickled down her face from the cut on her head. She continued to crawl and search through the darkness.
She grew tired and cold curling in on herself and sobbing to sleep. She woke and continued to crawl blindly through the caves her hands stretching out in front of her to keep from smacking into the wall again. Days passed her stomach rumbling and her throat parched. She found a pool of water.
Bending down in the pitch black she cupped her hands and drank. The water was foul but she kept drinking the thirst greater than her disgust. She kept going her hands blindly catching skittering spiders and beetles that she bit into to ease her hunger.
The silence besides her scuffling on the ground and sniffles was absolute. She continued to crawl water dripping from the ceiling keeping her wet and cold. She began to see shapes in the darkness that made her freeze in place.
Eventually she was forced to move as she continued her blind search for the way out. There was no way to know how much she back tracked or how long she was trapped down their precisely, but it was days at a minimum. One day she rounded a bend in the tunnel and light struck her eyes.
She fell back shrieking as the light blinded her. Gradually she recovered and crawled towards the light. Getting to her feet shakily she ran for it emerging out in the dusk. Her father stood nearby his arms crossed. Cold grey blue eyes surveyed her ragged, thin frame.
“Did you learn to conquer your fear?” Merlin asked.
“Yes father,” Guinevere lied.
“We shall see,” Merlin said taking her hand and leading her back to their estate.
--
The memory ended and Guinevere pulled her hand back and sagged against me. I held her unsure how to comfort her as tears ran down her face and shudders went through her body. It was hard to reconcile the fear I felt in her now with the amount of strength and steel resolve I knew she had.
“You did good,” was all I could say.
“I can’t go through that again,” Guinevere said her voice faint and soft her breaths coming in quick and short.
Cupping her chin, I forced her to meet my eyes.
“Your father may have been cruel, but he was right in one thing we overcome our fears by facing them,” I said. “You’ve faced that fear of your own choice this time. You might still be afraid, but it doesn’t rule you anymore.”
Guinevere nodded, resolving herself. We didn’t touch the pedestal again that day, I didn’t want to undo the progress we’d made by overexposing herself to her fear. We returned to the hut and ate. Guinevere busied herself in her garden clipping the leaves of bushes that were overgrown or not bearing fruit.
Deciding to take a break from making an enchantment, I decided to instead try and make a simple spell. Blending spell-words I knew into a incantation, I bent down over a withered white lily. I breathed out the spell softly. Mana flooded out of me as most of it was wasted but enough went into the flower that its withered leaves began to stretch and grow. The blossoms opened and turned up to face me as if I were the sun.
Guinevere looked over and smiled as she looked at the flower. Its petals were glowing brightly, its leaves had a healthy gloss to them now instead of their old withered wrinkled appearance. One by one I breathed new life into any plant in her garden that looked sickly or was having trouble with their transplant. Guinevere didn’t thank me, but she didn’t need to and we both simply enjoyed the silence and the fragrant scent of the flowers.