Page 68 of Wild Reverence

A roar drowned out his voice. Water began to pour into the cave like a waterfall, nearly wrenching his hand from mine. I clung to his fingers, pulling him to me, but soon even I lost my footing. We bobbed through the churning salt water, our breaths sharp.

There would be another gate on the other side of the dream, I thought. We just needed to reach it before the nightmare exhausted us or ripped us apart. We needed to reach that distant light.

“Matilda,” Nathaniel panted. I could feel him sinking, fatigued. “I cannot—”

“You must, ” I insisted. “There is no choice but to make it to the other side. Come, think of it as a mere swim.”

I had to split my strength, keeping myself afloat as well as him, guiding us across darkness so deep it felt like it was smothering me.

But I should not have been surprised that Vincent’s brother would also dream of drowning.

That he would dream of being trapped in a cave with rising water and no way out.

The worst was still to come.

We were not alone in the water.

Something slashed my calf, drawing blood.

It felt like a claw and I winced, pausing only a beat before I continued to kick my way forward.

Another creature wrapped cloying, kelpy fingers around my ankle, yanking.

Again, I kicked, but it clung to me, trailing behind me like a banner.

I had no way to tear them from my skin; with one hand I cut through water, pulling us forward, and with the other I held on to Nathaniel.

Nothing would break my hold on him. No burning salt in my eyes.

No flood and no creature of the deep. No aching cold of Death’s sting up my arm.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped.

I realized the water’s creatures were not hurting him. Only me—but he was dead and I was living, wasn’t I? They took delight in scoring me with their teeth and claws. In feeling my flesh bend and break. They licked my blood with their icy tongues, drinking it down until the water smelled sweet.

There was no time here in a dream. It felt like we swam for seasons. For years.

But I had always been good at determining my course. At connecting two points. A starting place to an ending. Distance was not something that daunted me, so long as I could visualize where I wanted to be.

I kept my eyes on that flickering light. Soon, I could discern the gate’s arch. We were almost there, and I stirred the last of my strength to swim the remaining distance.

My head brushed the top of the cave.

Nathaniel did not need the air, but I did. And Warin’s river shoes held no power here.

I gasped in as much air as my lungs would hold, and I eased us down below the surface.

The creatures swarmed thick around me, cutting my face, yanking my hair.

Still, they could not stop my course. We were almost there.

I could see the light of the wasteland again, the remaining stretch of path we needed to take…

Nathaniel jerked in the water.

His hand began to slip from mine. I felt it with a twist of my heart. How the cold shade of him was fading away.

And all I could hear was Vincent’s voice. A deep baritone in my ear.

Remain at my brother’s side.

I clung to his icy fingertips, teeth bared, desperate. I let the creatures gather and teem around me. They set their fangs and their claws into my body, deep to the bone, but I did not let go of him, not even as the pain turned incandescent, unbearable.

I ached as Death’s chill returned with a vengeance. My right arm had gone numb from it, my fingers stiff. I nearly wondered if I had died here and not realized it, but Nathaniel held to me as I held to him, and I dragged us, lungs smoldering, through the nightmare’s gate.

It spilled us onto the road.

We sprawled boneless, drenched and gasping.

I was still bleeding. Close to me, a sob broke the quiet. Nathaniel laid his head on the ground, his shoulders shuddering.

I did not know if I could walk the rest of the way. I had never felt so tired, and my wounds seemed slow to heal. I wondered if they would leave half-moon scars behind; I envisioned myself as Bade, a goddess marked by the years and my own recklessness.

For what sort of divine would risk their strength, their beauty, their power for mortal kind?

I held Nathaniel’s hand, even though I could no longer feel my own. But then I roused what little strength I had to look ahead, blinking away the sting of salt water, the pressing memory of darkness.

And there, as if it had moved to greet us, eager to see us home, was the wasted door. Before I could encourage him with its nearness, Nathaniel spoke.

“Do you remember when I asked you why you chose Vincent’s dreams?”

“Yes,” I said. “I remember.”

“Well, I realize now that I was wrong.”

“In what way?”

“Because you were also in mine. I dreamt that nightmare a hundred times as a child. I had nearly forgotten about it until just now, but once, I dreamt that I was not alone. Someone was holding my hand, pulling me through the water.” Nathaniel opened his eyes to look at me.

He was so faint I thought he might evanescence, until he smiled. “It was you.”