Page 159 of The Dark Mirror

The Pozzo di San Patrizio was right on the other side of Orvieto. I strode through the cobbled and darkening streets, the yellow streetlights coming on around me as the sun went down.

Orvieto had spectacular outlooks. I stopped more than once, captivated by the sights of the valley. By the time I reached the right place, it was almost nightfall. The ticket office was closed, but I had never let a little thing like that stop me from going where I pleased.

The Pozzo di San Patrizio was near the edge of a cliff, covered by a brick entrance. I walked past it and rested my arms on the old city wall for a while.

Arcturus was putting up so many walls that he might as well be in that coffin again, and I still wasn’t strong enough to break him free. I had been a fool to ever think I could help him recover.

Taking a deep breath, I sleeved my cheeks dry. Every other time a Reph had fed on me, I had felt dizzy and bled from the eyes, but these were ordinary tears, shed in frustration. He had known for days that he was too slow to feed, but had kept refusing to use my aura.

The door to the well had been locked for the night. I took out my new picks and made short work of it.

Inside, a set of steps wound into absolute darkness. I snapped my windproof lighter open, casting a soft glow. An arched opening appeared to my right, carved into the rock. I leaned through it and looked down, seeing a pool of glassy water far below, like a dark mirror.

As I descended, I came across more internal windows, each with a candleholder set into it. I lit the candles as I went, but my breath came short. This was already reminding me of the Archon.

Yet something told me to keep going.

I wished I could remember whether my family had ever discussed Saint Patrick. It had been too long since I left. All I had now were faint impressions, and even those were starting to blend together. Time was eroding my childhood memories of Ireland, as it eroded all things but Rephs. Arcturus would be able to resurrect those memories, but without him, they were lost to me. Another few years, and they might be gone for good.

There were more than two hundred steps. By the time I reached the bottom of the well, I had broken into a sweat. Now I was almost level with the water, which had a small bridge across it. The sight of it woke memories I tried and failed to force back into my dreamscape.

Still, I stepped on to the bridge, since I had come this far. I grasped the railing and stood there for a long time, gazing up the shaft. It had to be over a hundred feet deep. A clear dome covered it, letting the last faint glow of dusk spill down, along with the candlelight I had left in my wake. Tufts of greenery bloomed from the fine cracks on the walls.

‘Did you come to make a wish?’

I looked down. Arcturus had appeared on the other side of the bridge.

‘There was a spring near our farm. You’d dip a rag or ribbon in the water and tie it around the branch of a tree.’ I reached into my pocket. ‘I don’t have a ribbon, so this will have to do.’

I dropped a coin into the water, right through my reflection.

I wish he would see himself as I see him.

‘I have always found such traditions intriguing,’ Arcturus said. ‘Whether voyant or amaurotic, humans have long sought intervention from unseen forces. You make offerings. You pray. You call out to the other side, even if it does not answer. Scion has done away with such rituals, but they flourish beyond the empire. Even within, the old faiths endured in secret for a century.’

‘Nashira wants you to be the only gods.’

‘I believe that is her eventual intention. For all your stories to be sublimated into us.’

The coin glinted in the dim light of the candles.

‘Jaxon thinks some of them were inspired by you in the first place,’ I said. ‘We’d be coming full circle.’ I shot him a curious look. ‘How did you get to that side of the bridge?’

‘There are two intertwining staircases, with different entrances. It seems this bridge is the only place where they connect.’ Pause. ‘Do you wish to be alone?’

‘Not especially.’

Arcturus came to stand beside me in the middle of the bridge. He looked up the candlelit shaft.

‘Saint Patrick was said to know the way to purgatory. The liminal state between life and a final death,’ he said. ‘I see you have undertaken your own katabasis.’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘A descent into the underworld.’

‘Verca told me about this place. I’m not sure why I came,’ I said. ‘Maybe to feel a bit closer to Ireland.’ I clasped my hands. ‘Do you feel any closer to the Netherworld down here?’

‘The Netherworld lies beyond the veil. If you dug to the very core of this world, you would not find it there,’ Arcturus said. ‘Yet I do feel a sense of peace in the depths, just as I always have indarkness. Perhaps the concept of purgatorywasinspired by the Netherworld.’

‘Don’t say that. I hate it when Jaxon is right.’

His gloves were on. I looked away.

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