White Orchids {BOOK 1 COMPLETED}

Chapter 37

TW: Self harm

It's repulsive to be here again. To feel the sorrow that forces itself under my skin. It's hard to focus when I move across the dark blue grass. I keep the mirror tightly in my hand, but I don't dare to look into it yet.

In front of me lays the well, it somehow looks sadder than the last time I was here. I think of Clover's warnings, to never touch the liquid, no matter how much it may call on me.

When I'm sure I'm alone I lift the mirror and look into my own eyes – they don't feel like mine. It's different from the reflection in the crystal hall. There's nothing evil in these eyes, it's more like I'm watching someone through a window.

The reflection locks and no matter how I move it around, it won't change. Except the eyes, they follow me no matter the angle.

The mirror I keep angled towards the well; I take a deep breath. I close my eyes to shut out the sorrow and the desire – need – to submerge my entire body into the blue liquid. I think of Clover and the Fox, the one who was dressed in a black cloak and a fox-skull mask.

When I open my eyes I make a movement with my hand so the back of the mirror reflects the entire well. The green eyes follow me with every movement I make.

The air in front of me is visible and has become marked with all soul wanderers that has been here. Shapes of blue-green and moving air touches the entire area. There are hundreds of them and I cannot see color or details. I know who I'm looking for, he looks exactly like the other shapes. But the moment I lay my eyes on him I know that it's Clover, the one mark I've been searching for.

The reflection's eyes moves, this time they don't follow me. They turn inside out, so only the whites of the eyes are visible. All the shapes – except two – disappears. The details and the colors form in the air. It's hard to see, like they're still made of the same blue-green air with the slightest details. By appearance only I can barely recognize Clover. The entire area is woven into a heavy storm that you can see with the naked eye. I hold the mirror steadily and I don't dare to move, fearing that the scene in front of me would disappear.

I feel Clover's thoughts, his emotions. The nervousness, longing, and a worry. Strongest of all was the suspicions he had.

The hope was almost as strong. That was why he was there. If there was the slightest chance that the Raven was alive then it was worth meeting the strange soul wanderer. He had heard about him before, a man who had left and set out to the abandoned worlds. It wasn't the first time he had heard of soul wanderers who defied the guardians, they who gave up their purpose. But the Fox was young – too young to defy them without help from the outside.

He had expected someone to have helped and convinced him. He never suspected the Raven, not until the Fox came to him and claimed he was still alive.

It was the only reason why he had snuck out to this place that forced itself into his skin and suffocated him with a devastating sorrow.

He hated the well, a deep hatred for what it had forced him to go through when he had submerged his entire body in the vile liquid. But the well had its advantages. Here none could lie, the lies were written in their faces of those few who tried. Most knew it was futile. There were only a few that were so gifted with their silver tongues that could speak such lies that they themselves believed in it.

That's why Clover wanted to meet him here. He hoped and prayed that the Fox wasn't one of those few people with silver tongues. No lies would be voiced. He'd know if the Raven truly was alive, and if he'd let him believe he was dead for fifty years.