Chapter 40- Fallen and Found

A Leap of Faith

Liam’s POV

The world spun like a drunken pixie’s dance as Cyrus and I stumbled out of the passageway. My head throbbed with the persistent beat of exhaustion, and my limbs felt as though they’d been replaced with lead weights. Blinking away the disorientation, I found myself staring into an abyss so vast and dark it made the Unseelie Court look like a cheery summer picnic.

“Well,” I began, my voice rough from our previous trials, “it seems our delightful journey continues. Shall we take bets on whether we’ll be fighting Cerberus or just leaping into the endless void?”

Cyrus, looking about as fresh as week-old fish left in the sun, merely grunted in response. His eyes scanned our surroundings, narrowing as they landed on something to our left. “Water,” he croaked, pointing to a small spring bubbling up from the rocky ground.

I eyed the spring warily. The water gleamed with an otherworldly sheen, tiny ripples catching what little light there was in mesmerizing patterns. It was beautiful, in the way that many deadly things are. “Ah yes, because nothing says ‘safe to drink’ quite like a mysterious oasis in a death trap. Perhaps it’s the fabled Fountain of Youth? Or maybe just good old-fashioned poison.”

Despite my sarcasm, the sight of water made my parched throat ache with need. We shared a look of desperation, the memory of endless sand and scorching heat still fresh in our minds.

“Fuck it,” Cyrus muttered, already moving towards the spring. “At this point, death by water seems preferable to whatever else they have planned.”

I couldn’t argue with that logic. We knelt by the spring, cupping our hands to bring the cool liquid to our lips. It tasted like heaven – if heaven were flavored with a hint of magic and impending doom. The water was impossibly clear and sweet, with an underlying current of something ancient and powerful.

As the last drops slid down my throat, a curious sensation washed over me. It started as a tingling in my fingertips, spreading rapidly through my body like wildfire. Alarm bells rang in my head, but before I could voice my concern, the world went silent.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Panic rose in my chest as I realized I couldn’t access my magic either. It was as if someone had snuffed out a flame I’d carried my entire life, leaving me cold and terribly mortal. The absence of my magic felt like a physical wound, a gaping hole where a vital part of me should be.

Turning to Cyrus, I found him blinking rapidly, his hands outstretched and groping blindly. His eyes, usually sharp and alert, were now unfocused and clouded. He stumbled, nearly falling into the chasm before I caught his arm.

“Liam?” he called, his voice tinged with fear. “I can’t see anything. What’s happening?”

I tried to respond, to explain our predicament, but my voice remained stubbornly absent. Frustration bubbled up inside me as I realized the extent of our predicament. Here we were, at the edge of a deadly chasm, with me unable to speak or use magic, and Cyrus robbed of his sight. Wonderful. Just when I thought this little adventure couldn’t get any more delightful, we’ve been turned into the world’s most incompetent duo. A mute Fae and a blind demon hunter walk into a bar… stop me if you’ve heard this one. Oh wait, you can’t. Because I can’t speak.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I noticed gossamer threads crisscrossing the chasm, nearly invisible to the naked eye. They glimmered faintly, like strands of starlight stretched thin. Between these deadly threads, crystal platforms pulsed with an otherworldly light, shifting positions unpredictably. The sight was breathtaking and terrifying in equal measure.

I grabbed Cyrus’s arm, trying to convey the nature of our challenge through touch alone. He flinched at the contact, his unseeing eyes wide with confusion and a hint of fear.

“Liam, is that you?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically vulnerable. “What are you seeing?”

I tapped Cyrus’s arm, hoping he’d understand my intent. His brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to decipher my meaning.

“Okay, Liam,” he said, his voice laced with determination. “Let’s figure this out. One tap for yes, two for no? Are you mute?”

I tapped once, relieved he’d caught on quickly. Cyrus nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Good. Now, how about a squeeze for danger?”

I squeezed his arm in response, and he tensed, momentarily thinking I was signaling actual danger before realizing it was just confirmation. I mentally groaned. This was going to be even harder than I thought. Oh, splendid. We’re doing interpretive dance to convey the concept of ‘imminent death’.

Next came the challenge of conveying more complex information. Cyrus suggested using combinations of taps for directions: two quick taps followed by a long press for ‘move forward’, three quick taps for ‘stop’, and so on. We practiced each signal, with Cyrus verbalizing his interpretation and me confirming or correcting with our established yes/no taps.

The process was frustratingly slow at first. More than once, I found myself wishing for my voice back, if only to unleash a torrent of creative curses at our predicament. Cyrus, to his credit, remained patient, though I could hear the strain in his voice as we worked through each misunderstanding.

“Okay, so that was… three quick taps, two long presses, and a squeeze. That means… move left cautiously?” Cyrus guessed after one particularly complex series of taps.

I tapped twice for ‘no’, then repeated the sequence, hoping he’d get it this time.

“Right, not left. Move right cautiously?” This time, I tapped once. “Finally,” Cyrus sighed. “This is like learning a new language, but with high stakes and no visual aids.”

As we continued to refine our system, I couldn’t help but marvel at the absurdity of our situation. Here we were, a mute Fae and a blind demon hunter, playing the world’s most convoluted game of charades on the edge of a deadly chasm. If I’d had my voice, I would have laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. I wonder if there’s a market for this sort of thing in the Fae realms. ‘Extreme Charades: Chasm Edition’. We could make a fortune.

Despite the challenges, our communication system slowly but surely improved. We developed shortcuts for common instructions, like a quick double squeeze for ‘hurry’ and a gentle tug on Cyrus’s sleeve for ‘slow down’. Each successful exchange felt like a small victory, building our confidence in our ability to face the trial ahead.

With our rudimentary communication system in place, we turned our attention to the daunting task of crossing the chasm. I guided Cyrus to the edge, letting him feel the empty air before us. His face paled as he realized the magnitude of what we were about to attempt.

“Right,” he muttered, swallowing hard. “Just a leisurely stroll across a bottomless pit. No problem.”

I squeezed his arm once, trying to convey reassurance. Then, with a deep breath, we took our first step into the void.

Our initial attempts were nothing short of catastrophic. I tried to navigate based on sight alone, guiding Cyrus forward with taps and tugs. We inched along a crystal platform, its surface smooth and treacherously slippery under our feet. Suddenly, an invisible thread glinted in the dim light, mere inches from Cyrus’s face.

Panic surged through me. I yanked Cyrus back, perhaps harder than necessary, causing us both to stumble. He yelped in surprise, his arms windmilling as he fought for balance. We teetered on the edge of the platform, the yawning chasm below seeming to reach up hungrily for us.

“What the hell, Liam?” Cyrus gasped once we’d steadied ourselves.

I tapped out an explanation as best I could, frustration mounting at my inability to simply tell him about the deadly threads. This is ridiculous. If I ever meet the sadist who designed this trial, I’m going to introduce them to some truly creative Fae punishments. Perhaps a century or two of being mute themselves would teach them a lesson.

I gently guided Cyrus’s hand towards one of the threads, careful to avoid actually touching it. As his fingers neared the invisible strand, I saw his expression change from confusion to understanding. He could feel the heat radiating from the thread, the deadly energy pulsing just millimeters from his skin.

“Threads,” he breathed, his unseeing eyes wide with realization. “Invisible, deadly threads. That’s what you were trying to tell me. Fantastic. Any other delightful surprises I should know about?”

I sighed silently, tapping out a sarcastic ‘no’ on his arm. This was going to be even more challenging than I’d anticipated. Oh, just the usual. Invisible death traps, shifting platforms, and the constant threat of plummeting into an endless void. You know, a typical Tuesday in the life of Liam.

Next, Cyrus attempted to guide us using his hearing. He cocked his head, listening intently to something I couldn’t perceive. “I think… I can hear vibrations,” he said, his voice uncertain. “Like very faint music. Maybe it’s coming from the safe paths?”

Encouraged by this, we moved forward again. Cyrus stepped confidently, following the ‘music’ only he could hear. For a moment, I dared to hope we’d found a solution. Then Cyrus’s foot met empty air where he clearly expected solid ground.

I lunged forward, grabbing the back of his shirt and hauling him backwards. We collapsed in a heap on the platform, hearts racing. Brilliant. We’ve gone from ‘blind leading the blind’ to ‘deaf leading the blind’. At this rate, we’ll be lucky if we don’t end up as permanent residents of this lovely abyss.

“Okay,” Cyrus panted, “so maybe the sound isn’t as reliable as I thought.”

I tapped out a message on his arm, trying to convey that the platforms were moving. I took Cyrus’s hands in mine, moving them in a pattern that mimicked the shifting of the platforms.

His brow furrowed as he concentrated on the movement, slowly nodding as understanding dawned. Cyrus groaned as he understood. “Moving platforms. Of course. Why make it easy, right?”

We sat there for a moment, catching our breath and contemplating our next move. It was clear that neither of us could navigate this challenge alone. My sight was useless without the ability to warn Cyrus of dangers, and his hearing, while potentially useful, wasn’t enough to guide us safely.

“We need to work together better,” Cyrus said, echoing my thoughts. “You can see the threads and platforms, and I can hear… something. There has to be a way to combine that information.”

I tapped my agreement, impressed despite myself at his quick thinking. We set about refining our strategy, with Cyrus focusing on interpreting the subtle vibrations from the threads and crystals, while I learned to trust his auditory perception.

Our progress was painstakingly slow. Each step forward was a careful negotiation, with Cyrus describing what he heard and me guiding his movements based on what I could see. More than once, we had to backtrack or pause for long moments, frozen in place as a platform shifted or a thread drifted too close for comfort.

“There’s a high-pitched hum to the left,” Cyrus would say, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Is it safe to move that way?”

I’d assess the visible threads and platforms, then guide him accordingly. A series of taps on his left arm for ‘move left’, coupled with a squeeze to his shoulder to indicate ‘caution’. Cyrus would nod, understanding our silent language, and take a careful step in the indicated direction.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, we made progress. Each successful step felt like a monumental victory, each safely traversed platform a cause for celebration. We developed a rhythm, a dance of taps and whispers, of trust and calculated risk. If anyone had told me a week ago that I’d be engaging in an elaborate interpretive dance routine with a demon hunter, I’d have laughed in their face. And yet, here we are. Life does have a twisted sense of humor.

But just as we began to feel a glimmer of hope, we encountered a section so complex it made our previous challenges look like a leisurely stroll through the Seelie gardens. The threads here were densely packed, weaving in and out of each other in dizzying patterns. The platforms were little more than fleeting glimmers, appearing and disappearing with maddening unpredictability.

“I can’t make sense of these sounds,” Cyrus admitted, frustration evident in his voice. “It’s like a cacophony of vibrations. Can you see a way through?”

I stared at the intricate web before us, my heart sinking. The threads seemed to shift and multiply the longer I looked, and the crystal platforms were little more than fleeting glimmers in the darkness. I tugged on Cyrus’s shirt, our signal for ‘stop’.

“That bad, huh?” he asked, correctly interpreting my silence.

You have no idea, I thought grimly. This makes Fae politics look straightforward. And that’s saying something, considering our last council meeting devolved into a three-day debate over the proper shade of green for the summer solstice decorations.

Exhaustion and frustration set in. I longed to unleash a torrent of creative curses, to rail against the sadistic nature of these trials. But my enforced silence left me stewing in my own impotent anger. Every muscle in my body ached, and the constant tension of watching for invisible threats was giving me a splitting headache.

Cyrus wasn’t faring much better. His face was drawn with fatigue, a sheen of sweat glistening on his brow despite the cool air of the chasm. His hands, which had been steady and sure in battle, now trembled slightly from the strain of constant alertness.

“Maybe… maybe we should rest,” Cyrus suggested, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “Just for a moment. Clear our heads.”

I wanted to agree. Every fiber of my being cried out for rest. But a glance at the treacherous path behind us, already disappearing into the void, told me we couldn’t afford to stop. I squeezed Cyrus’s arm twice, our signal for ‘no’, then tugged gently on his sleeve – ‘keep moving’.

Cyrus sighed, but nodded in understanding. “You’re right. We can’t stop now. But Liam… I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. The sounds, they’re all blending together. I can barely tell what’s a platform and what’s a thread anymore.”

His admission sent a chill through me. If Cyrus’s hearing was failing us, we were in even more trouble than I’d thought. We needed a new approach, and fast.

As we stood there, teetering on the edge of failure, a realization struck me with all the subtlety of a rampaging troll. This was a dual trial – testing both our humility and our capacity for kindness. We were being forced to rely entirely on each other, to set aside our egos and work as one, while also showing compassion and support in the face of our own struggles.

I took a deep breath, pushing aside my frustration and fear. Then, slowly and deliberately, I tapped out a message on Cyrus’s arm. ‘Trust me. I trust you.’

Cyrus was silent for a long moment, processing my words. Then, his jaw tightened with resolve. “Alright, Liam. I don’t like it, but we don’t have a choice. Let’s do this.”

Ah, the sweet sound of reluctant cooperation. Nothing quite like it to warm the cockles of one’s heart.

With renewed determination, we pressed on. Cyrus provided more detailed descriptions of the sounds he heard, no matter how faint or confusing. I, in turn, guided his movements with increasing precision, trusting his hearing even when my eyes told me we were heading straight for danger.

Our teamwork improved dramatically, but so did the danger. The chasm began to collapse slowly, crystal platforms disappearing into the void with alarming frequency. We were forced to balance speed with caution, each step a calculated risk.

“The vibrations are getting more intense,” Cyrus warned as we navigated a particularly tricky section. “I think this place is becoming unstable.”

I guided us faster, my heart pounding as I watched platforms crumble mere seconds after we stepped off them. The air grew thick with dust and the screeching sound of crystal shearing against crystal. More than once, I felt the whisper of a thread passing so close it stirred my hair.

Then came the moment that would haunt my dreams for centuries to come. We encountered a section that seemed utterly impassable. No visible threads, no crystal platforms – just a yawning emptiness that promised a quick and messy end to our quest.

Cyrus tensed beside me, his head cocked as he listened intently. “There’s a path,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can hear it, but it’s unlike anything we’ve encountered so far. We’ll have to jump.”

I stared into the abyss, my heart pounding so hard I was sure Cyrus could hear it. Every instinct screamed at me to turn back, to find another way. But there was no other way. This was it – trust Cyrus completely, or fail. Wonderful. Putting my life in the hands of a demon hunter. If I survive this, I’ll never live it down.

“I know this is asking a lot,” Cyrus said, his voice tight with tension. “But I need you to trust me, Liam. Can you do that?”

With a deep breath, I squeezed his arm once. Yes. I trust you. The realization was as surprising to me as it probably was to him.

“Okay. On my mark,” Cyrus said, readying himself. “Three… two… one… JUMP!”

We leapt into nothingness, my stomach lurching as we fell. For one terrifying moment, I was certain we’d made a fatal mistake. The wind rushed past us, carrying the distant echoes of shattering crystal. I closed my eyes, bracing for impact.

Then my foot connected with something solid – an invisible platform, perfectly placed to catch us. Relief flooded through me, so intense it was almost painful. I wanted to laugh, to whoop with joy, but my voice remained stubbornly absent. Instead, I squeezed Cyrus’s arm, hoping to convey my gratitude and amazement.

“We made it?” Cyrus asked, sounding as shocked as I felt. “We actually made it. I can’t believe that worked.”

You and me both, demon hunter. Perhaps there’s hope for you yet.

The final stretch was a blur of frantic movement and perfectly synchronized teamwork. We dashed across collapsing platforms, swung from invisible threads, and made leaps that would have given even the most daring Fae acrobat pause.

“Left!” Cyrus would shout, responding to some sound I couldn’t hear. I’d guide us left, trusting his hearing even when my eyes told me we were heading straight for danger.

“Duck!” He’d yell, and I’d pull us both down, feeling the whisper of a thread passing over our heads. Our coordination had reached its peak, each movement perfectly synchronized despite our exhaustion.

The chasm around us was in full collapse now. Entire sections of crystal platforms shattered and fell away into the void. The air was thick with dust and the screech of breaking crystal. We could no longer afford caution – speed was our only hope.

“We’re almost there,” Cyrus panted, his unseeing eyes wide with exertion. “I can hear solid ground ahead. Just a little further!”

I squeezed his arm in acknowledgment, guiding us towards what I hoped was the final stretch. The path ahead was a nightmare of shifting platforms and writhing threads. It would take everything we had to make it through.

Without warning, the platform beneath our feet began to crumble. I yanked Cyrus forward, and we broke into a desperate run. There was no time for careful communication now. We moved on pure instinct and trust, each of us compensating for the other’s weakness.

A thread appeared before us, wickedly sharp and unavoidable. Without thinking, I spun Cyrus around, using the momentum to swing him clear of the danger. The movement left me off-balance, and I felt my foot slip on the edge of the platform.

For a heart-stopping moment, I was sure I would fall. Then Cyrus’s hand closed around my wrist, his grip iron-tight. With strength born of desperation, he hauled me back from the brink.

“I’ve got you,” he growled, his voice strained with effort. “We’re finishing this together.”

Well, isn’t this a touching moment of camaraderie? If we weren’t about to die horribly, I might even be moved.

With renewed determination, we made our final push. The chasm behind us was collapsing completely now, a wave of destruction nipping at our heels. We leapt from disintegrating platform to crumbling crystal, relying entirely on our established trust and communication.

Just as I thought we couldn’t possibly go any further, I saw it – the other side of the chasm, solid and blessedly stable. With one last, mighty leap, we cleared the edge of the abyss. We collapsed on solid ground, gasping for air, as the path behind us disappeared into the void.

For a long moment, we simply lay there, too exhausted to move. Then, gradually, blessedly, our abilities returned. The sudden influx of magic was almost overwhelming after its absence. Cyrus blinked rapidly as his sight restored, looking around in wonder.

“We did it,” he breathed, disbelief evident in his voice. “We actually did it.”

I nodded, a wry smile tugging at my lips. “Indeed we did. It seems you’re not entirely useless after all, demon hunter.”

Cyrus snorted, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “And you’re not a complete liability, Fae. I suppose miracles do happen.”

We exchanged a steady look, both acknowledging the tough journey we’d been through. The weight of our shared trials hung heavy between us, unspoken but undeniable. Despite starting as enemies, we’d become unwilling allies, tested and proven in the face of adversity.

“You know,” Cyrus said, his tone thoughtful, “I’m not entirely sure what virtue this trial was testing. Humility, certainly – we had to rely on each other completely. But there was also an element of kindness in how we had to support one another.”

I nodded, surprised by his insight. “I also think it was both. The trials seem to enjoy complicating matters at every turn. Why test one virtue when you can test two?”

A wry smile played on Cyrus’s lips. “It makes sense. I guess humility and kindness often go hand in hand. You need to be humble enough to accept help, and kind enough to offer it without hesitation.”

“An unusually nuanced observation for a demon hunter,” I admitted, impressed despite myself. “But it seems these trials are more complex than we initially thought. Much like our… alliance.”

Cyrus raised an eyebrow at that. “Alliance? Is that what we’re calling this now?”

I shrugged, feeling oddly vulnerable. “What would you call it? We’re certainly not friends, but ‘mortal enemies’ seems a touch dramatic at this point.”

“Reluctant allies with a shared goal?” Cyrus suggested, a hint of humor in his voice.

“That has a nice ring to it,” I agreed. “Though I must say, if you weren’t a demon hunter, I might be tempted to buy you a drink after all this. You did save my life back there.”

Cyrus looked genuinely surprised at that. “Well, if you weren’t a troublemaking Fae, I might even accept. You’re not half bad in a crisis.”

We both chuckled at the absurdity of it all. Here we were, a Fae and a demon hunter, exchanging almost-compliments after nearly dying together multiple times.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” I warned, but there was no real heat in my words. “I still plan on claiming Kate for myself, you know.”

Cyrus’s eyes hardened slightly at that. “And I still plan on stopping you. But… I suppose we can set that aside until we get out of here.”

I acknowledged the temporary truce with a mock salute. “Can’t wait,” I said, feigning enthusiasm. “If this was a 2-in-1 trial, we’re almost done.  I’m sure whatever comes next will be a walk in the park!”

As we moved towards the next passageway, I couldn’t help but feel a cautious optimism. We’d overcome four quests from hell already, each one pushing us to our limits and beyond. But we were still standing, and the Temporal Tether was tantalizingly close.

The lessons of this trial – be it humility, kindness, or both – had been hard-won, but their value was undeniable. We’d learned to trust, to rely on each other’s strengths, and to offer help without hesitation. These weren’t just abstract virtues anymore, but essential tools for our survival.

And if I’m being entirely honest, which I rarely am, I might just be starting to enjoy this unexpected partnership. Not that I’d ever admit it to Cyrus, of course. A Fae has to maintain some standards, after all.