Chapter 85


    Chapter Eighty-Five


    I take the steps down. At the darkest point, the faintest crack shows from beneath the door in the


    kitchen. It’s like a shard of light. Below, as I keep descending, it gradually lightens. The flicker of


    torches casts a golden orange glow against the stone walls. I smell the torches first.


    N?velDrama.Org copyrighted ? content.


    At the bottom of the tunnel is a giant open room. It’s domed and stctites and stgmites dot the


    ceilings and floor. The room is awash with a minerally scent. It isn’t pungent like sulfur or briny like the


    ocean, although there is a touch of each. It’s something older. I don’t know that I’ve ever encountered


    this scent before.


    Torches ring the walls and at least a dozen ‘sisters’ are spaced around a bubbling pool. The water has


    rings of different colors, like you might see in a hot spring.


    Vria smiles.


    Something in her expression makes me leery.


    I want to cross my arms but instead I stand still.


    “Well,” she says bemusedly, “in you go. What are you waiting for?”


    The water is murky in the middle. There are no stairs ordder. I don’t know how deep this pool goes or


    what else might be living or lurking in it.


    And it’s bubbling. I’m not real keen on being boiled alive.


    I hike up my white gown and dip a toe into the pool.


    It’s hot, but not ufortably.


    I step one foot in–


    “Lose the gown,” she says.


    Of course.


    I peel it over my head and one of the sisters epts it. She drapes it over her arm.


    The women watch me. I’m not terribly self-conscious about my body, but I can’t say I’mfortable


    with their attention either. There is something in the way they study me that makes tendrils of


    foreboding dance along my skin.


    I move quicker, thinking it’s better to just get this over with.


    Once I step off the ledge, I don’t feel a ‘bottom’. I float. I actually feel extra buoyant. It must be whatever


    salts or minerals are in this water.


    “Getfortable,” she tells me.


    The pool is probably thirty feet across. Around the room, I see tunnels, presumably leading upward into


    different homes or parts of the ind. There are no other markings, none that I can see at least. With


    only torchlight and my wolf eyes to go by, I can make out shapes and depth and movement, but I’m not


    entirely sure what else I should be looking for.


    If this is a sacred space–and I sense that it is–it seems like there should be more borate markings.


    One by one, the womene and extinguish their torches in the pool before turning and walking back


    out one of the many tunnels. As the room gets darker, I feel my anxiousness ratcheting up.


    “How long will I be here?” I ask.


    Vria shrugs. “As long as it takes.”


    She extinguishes her torch and I count the sounds of her footsteps as they retreat.


    After a time, the darkness is absolute.


    There is no light. Not from above or below.


    The water is hot, but almost a match for my body temperature, so I can’t even feel the difference. I


    float, my ears are submerged, so that masks any sound. The only scentse from this watery cave


    and after a while, I’m immune to those too.


    I understand what this is.


    A sensory deprivation chamber.


    Having spent time in California, I know people pay good money for these types of experiences. They


    use them to dpress, to stimte their senses and creativity. To rx.


    Nothing about this is rxing to me.


    I can’t judge time or my surroundings. I’m alone. In the dark. In a weightless, suspended state.


    I try to clear my mind.


    But as I drift, I’m barraged with memories and worries. Images of my kids. Of Cam and Eric. Even


    Ashley. I rey Corinne dying.


    I think of my mother, maybe doing the same thing I am right now when she first came to this ind. Did


    she embrace this ceremony with fear–the way I am? Or excitement?


    I’ll never know.


    I cry for a while, I think.


    I touch my stomach and think of my baby.


    Then I drift. Letting my thoughts ebb away like the water.


    Time ceases to have meaning.


    It may be minutes or hours.


    I might sleep, I’m not sure.


    Something is supposed to happen, but I’m not sure what that is or how to control it or provoke it.


    My heartbeat speeds up. I can’t feel the water or even the air. I force my limbs to move but even


    swimming doesn’t seem to have any sensation. I take deep breaths and try to rx.


    More time passes–I think.


    Gradually it’s like tiny stars appear above me. I blink and blink, thinking I’m hallucinating. Then they


    start to converge. I watch them, like a show, only I think what I’m seeing is space and time and a


    glimpse into a universe that is too infinite to even conceive.


    The colors are faint. Blues and purples. Reds and shades of white.


    Always white.


    The colors condense on themselves, umting into a ball of energy that is ck and endless and


    teeming with … everything.


    I blink rapidly, but see nothing.


    Feel nothing.


    But when I try to breathe, it’s water that fills my lungs.


    The darkness is the pool–and I’ve sunk into its inky depths.