The Well

He desperately tried to wipe his eyes to see her clearly, but his tears blurred the image of the limp body he held in his arms. She was still warm. He tried to brush her hair from her face, but the blood knotted the strands together making it an impossible mess. He held her tightly in his arms as she slowly turned cold.

He opened his eyes and stared into the darkness. He was exhausted from the dream, but he was used to it. How could he rest when her darkened eyes were all he could see every time he closed his own? Every night, for four long years, he had relived that memory, and every time it felt as if he were experiencing it for the first time. He longed to dream of something different. To forget his sorrow for a moment, or even possibly see her smile again. What had her smile even looked like? He couldn’t remember.

He lit his lantern, and it illuminated the stone walls surrounding him. He had no idea if he had been in this cave for weeks or only days, but he wouldn’t leave until he either found what he came for or was driven to insanity by the depths of the endless empty silence. It didn’t matter anyway. He’d left no trail to follow back. He had nothing left outside of this place. Everything he once owned he had given up to get here, including much of himself, and the only way left for him to go was forward. 

He pulled out his last stale piece of bread, but he only looked at it briefly before stuffing it back into his pack. Exhaustion and depression kept him from having an appetite. Eating had become a chore that he would forgo completely if it weren’t crucial to him staying alive long enough to reach his destination.

He removed a worn book from his pack and carefully opened it. The book had no markings of any kind, and the cover appeared to be some sort of darkened leather that had long since cracked and faded. It contained information on magical artifacts and locations believed to have existed from ancient times. The book was quite large, but there was only one chapter that he was interested in: The Well.

He read the chapter title out loud to himself. The name had become a comfort to him and a beacon of hope in his dreary world. He didn’t actually read the chapter. He had already read it so many times that he could recite it verbatim, as he often did while he walked.

He kept the book only as a reminder of his mission. It helped ground him in reality. It was something tangible and consistent that he could use to convince himself that he was still somewhat within the realm of sanity. Slipping the book back into his pack, he lifted himself off the ground, added oil to his lantern, and pushed forward down the tunnel ahead.

He walked for what felt like days. It was impossible to know how many, but supplies were running out. One way or another, his journey was about to come to an end. He had stumbled upon more remains of travelers in these caves than he had ever seen, and he wondered what number of those who had once wandered these haunted halls had ever found their way out.

His stomach hurt. The bread was long gone, and now that he was without it he longed for just a bite of it’s chewy, stale, tasteless substance. Twisting his waterskin, he hoped for just a drop, but there was nothing left. He considered eating it, but he was too weak to chew through the thick leather. He soon noticed a difference in the shadows on the walls. They were darker than before. Within seconds he could barely see anything at all. He took a deep breath and held it as the last vapor of oil was devoured by the starving flame of his lamp and evaporated into the cold darkness.

It felt fitting that his journey would end this way. He never felt as though he deserved redemption, but everything he did was for her. The thought of saving her was the only thing that got him this far, but now it seemed as though they were both destined to be forgotten. Still, rather than lying down and waiting for death to consume him, he dropped the useless weight of everything he carried and pushed forward, feeling his way through the darkness.

He recited the chapter from his book in an attempt to encourage his numb legs to keep moving. It described an underground source of water with the ability to recreate reality from a person’s memories. It was unknown if the magic reconstructed matter and reverted time itself, or if it enchanted the user into an altered perception of reality, but he didn’t care which was true. At this point, he’d be satisfied with a normal pool of water if he could convince himself it was the one he was looking for long enough to drown in it.

Each step felt as though it would be his last, yet he somehow managed to keep finding one more. He had stopped shivering some time ago. He couldn’t tell if the air around him was becoming warmer or if he was becoming increasingly numb to the cold as his body shut down. He looked at his hands. They were nothing more than bone with a thin layer of dry paper covering. 

Suddenly, he realized the obvious: he could see his hands. He had been walking in such a stupor that he hadn't even noticed that he was no longer in complete darkness. A soft blue light emanated from somewhere far down the corridor ahead. He wasn’t even sure if it was real, but its appearance granted him new strength, and his pace quickened ever so slightly.

As he drew nearer, the light grew brighter. Soon everything was saturated in a deep blue hue. He had never seen anything like it before, and it was enough to make him wonder if he hadn’t already died and was now entering the afterlife. As he rounded the final corner, he fell to his knees in disbelief. Before him, was a small pool of water with a soft blue light emanating from it. He had made it to The Well, and it was spectacular.

He pulled himself to the edge of the pool and drank deeply from it before climbing into it. The Well was much shallower than he expected, and he found he was able to kneel comfortably without becoming fully submerged. The water was warm and soothed his aching muscles. He took one last look around the empty blue room before taking a deep breath, closing his eyes, and sinking beneath the surface. 

He tried hard to remember her. A bright light flooded his mind causing him to wince. The light was closely followed by the sound of birds singing, and he shivered as a cool breeze kissed the back of his neck. He began to feel a heavy weight in his lap, and he found his arms wrapped around something soft. Slowly, the blurry image of her face came into view, and he leaned in closer to see her battered crimson corpse.

He gasped and began to cough as he inhaled water. He desperately tried to remember her differently, but after so many years of dwelling on their final moments together he realized he could no longer remember her any other way. Her smile. Her laugh. The smell of her hair. The taste of her kiss. Every pleasant memory had slowly dissipated over time as he lost himself to shame, guilt, and regret. 

He shot upright to breach the surface but found himself somehow deeper than before. Standing up, he threw his arms in every direction feeling for anything to grab onto, but there was nothing. He opened his eyes and saw only darkness. Gone was the warm blue light that illuminated everything a moment ago. He could still feel her weight on his legs and arms as though the parts of her were bound to him. He closed his eyes once more and the bright memory flooded his mind again. He began to weep bitterly, and the salt from his tears mixed with the fresh water of the well. In a matter of seconds he was sitting on dry ground.

He desperately tried to wipe his eyes to see her clearly, but his tears blurred the image of the limp body he held in his arms. She was still warm. He tried to brush her hair from her face, but the blood knotted the strands together making it an impossible mess. He held her tightly in his arms as she slowly turned cold.