The Tragic and the Pure - DreamNotFound

Chapter 7

George POV

Darkness yawned from an encirclement of mossy stones, the air thick with musky water. George leaned against the well, second guessing every plan he'd ever made. His armor scraped uncomfortably on old stone, the sharp sound jarring in his ears.

Nikki had done exactly as he'd requested, sneaking a guard's attire down the library to him. She'd even assisted on how to wear armor larger than his fit without looking suspicious. Her meticulous styling allowed him to traverse the castle grounds without a single glance from real guards.

Your highness, I know not of your intentions. Her words rang in his mind, snowy teeth working a scarlet painted lip. I only ask, please don't make me regret this. 

 I won't. George's tongue burned with his fabricated promise. In truth, when this was all over, he might have to face his own regrets. If he survived to see the day he'd face his inner demons, anyways.

"Am I really about to do this?" He muttered to himself. "I've really lost it, haven't I?"

The dark shadows swirled in the well's gaping mouth, almost as if they were agreeing with him. 

Why was it logic only kicked in when the time of turning back has long since passed? Or, perhaps, there was logic in insanity. Weren't the greatest geniuses a little off their rocker? 

I've already involved Nikki, and snuck through an entire castle ground wearing this heavy shit. George tugged his armor hatefully, having already thrown the helmet aside. I won't get another chance, I have to do this.

Trust. His code buddy had knocked. Trust.

Leather knots unraveled, heavy iron plates falling to the rotten grass. Gloved palms gripped the edge of an abyss, lips opening to gather a final breath. Trust.

Wind rushed around his body, free falling into the dark. The walls around him scraped his delicate flesh, wishing he'd kept the stupid armor but knowing it'd weigh him down when—

Cold. So. Fucking. Cold.

Icy water swallowed him into the depths of its belly, losing all sense of up and down. His limbs burned with freezing prickles, briefly too stunned to swim. It wasn't until his lungs screamed that his senses knocked in. 

George flailed his arms, reaching in the black for stone walls. He eventually found hard surface, kicking his feet against invisible pressure as he forced himself deeper. His face froze numb, fear setting in.

He swam deeper and deeper beneath the surface, nothing to guide him but the brush of stone beneath his fingertips. He'd begun to believe he'd die down here when the surface he'd clung to sloped at an angle. 

Trust. George pushed through thick waters, his mind spiraling into foggy nothingness. Trust....

He bumped into a barrier, realizing the well became a flooded tunnel. He angled his body horizontally, blindly swimming forward instead of downwards. Gray fuzz sucked the energy from his limbs, pace gradually slowing. 

That black abyss surrounded him at every turn, sinking poisonous fangs into his mind. Shadows crawling into his brain like venom.

I trusted you... Air bubbles drifted from his lips into still water. 

His body floated weakly, and he didn't notice the current gently tugging him upwards. 

His head burst the surface, stagnant air rushing into his lungs and bringing forth his full consciousness. George gasped violently, his beautiful heterochromatic eyes flashing wide in disbelief.