Page 93 of The Forsaken Heir
“Calm, child,” Jolon’s voice called out, echoing through the eternity of stars around me.
“Where am I?” I screamed, unable to keep my voice from shaking like a child lost in the dark.
“You are at the beginning of all things,” he said, though I still couldn’t see him. “Control your fear, and the spinning will stop.
Easy for him to say. I squeezed my eyes shut, and focused on breathing, trying to calm my mind. After a few deep breaths, I managed to get my heartrate under control, and the spinningsensation eased to nothing. When I opened my eyes, I couldn’t help but gasp. Everyone was gone. I was no longer in my childhood home—instead, I sat on a chair that seemed to hover out in open space. Jolon sat in his chair, gazing at me with a placid and kind smile.
“As I said, a bit strange,” he murmured.
“Yeah,” I said. “Where am I?”
“That,” he said, and shook his head slightly, “is hard to put into words.” He gestured to the stars and inky blackness around us. “This is your mind. The inner, most basic parts, far beyond your human thoughts or wolf instincts.”
“I don’t have a wolf,” I said. “I wasn’t born with one.”
“Ah.” He squinted as he looked at me, as if peering out at a long distance. “Perhaps, but that does not mean you have no remnants. Even if no wolf resides in your soul, the footprints of past ages still walk in your subconscious. Just as a great-grandmother bestows blue eyes to her descendant, so do the residual trappings of a wolf course through your veins.”
“If you say so,” I whispered, craning my neck to look around.
“This is the gateway to your mind. From here, we will traverse your inner psyche, and thereby prove or disprove who and what you really are.”
“All right.” I swallowed hard. “How are you here, if this is my mind?”
He tapped his temple. “Old magic. Old magic, and a small serving of the powder I gave you. It also makes it easy when you understand, as we fae do, that all are connected, all are from the source.”
The way he said that made it sound almost like a proper noun. The source? What kind of new wave horseshit was this?
“When you are connected, at the deepest level, communion is much easier for those adept at traveling it.”
“Okay, sure, whatever. Can we get on with this?”
“Indeed, we shall.” He snapped his fingers.
Without warning, my chair vanished and fell like a stone through space. Before I even registered what had happened, before I could scream, I stopped, hanging sideways like a bug caught in honey and staring at a wooded scene. The stars and black sky vanished in a blink. Ahead of me, a small cowering shadow huddled against a tree.
Jolan stood beside me. “This is the corner of your mind that processes fear. What do you see there?” he asked, pointing at the shadow.
“Can I get down first?” I asked.
Jolon grinned at me and shrugged. “It’s your mind. Do it yourself.”
Gritting my teeth, I concentrated and managed to right myself, then took a step forward. The shadows fell away, and I saw what lay beneath. A small pup, a wolf shivering against a tree, its tiny head swinging this way and that, howling in fear at every sound.
“Interesting,” Jolon said. “I doubt a skinwalker would havethisin their mind. I interpret this as the fear of the unknown. A small wolf that is defenseless in a large and scary world.” He glanced my way and cocked an eyebrow. “Sounds familiar, perhaps?”
“Maybe,” I grumbled.
“Let’s see what else we might find here.” He snapped his fingers again.
This time, I managed to stay upright, and on my feet, though it still felt like I was in a box that was being shaken by giant hands. The forest was gone, and I stood in the sewing shop. It was empty, with no one around. My heart ached to see Lorraine, to have a familiar face to help me through this.
“This could be fake,” Jolon said, strolling from the back storeroom. “It is your basic ego. This is what your mind shows as the balance between your id and your super-ego. This is your safe space, and your mind has constructed this as a symbol, but it could be a glamor or implanted memory for show. Something that could try to trick even yourself into believing you are Brielle Laurent.”
“It’s not. This is where I work,” I said.
“I think there is truth there,” he said, “but I need more. More so that I can truly confirm to those in attendance you are who you say you are.”
Jolon walked around the counter, and approached me. “I need to put you into a place that is more uncomfortable. A place that will pull the true essence of yourself out. Are you prepared for that?”
