Page 51 of Of Serpents and Ruins
"Stella."
I stiffened.
The question of who had said that flashed into my mind and faded along with one observation.
The lid to the well now leaned on its side against the stone.
STELLA
Cold shards of fear cut into me, icy needles in my veins.
That lid should have been on the well. It was always covered down here unless someone was scrying.
But the voice enveloped my senses, and the well called to me, bright yet heavy. Intoxicating. I could practically feel arms wrapping around my waist and drawing me toward it.
Whatever words I might have spoken died within me, sticking to the sides of my throat.
The voice whispered in my ear, coming from all directions at once. "Stella."
Everything else faded, all sounds and scents, everything except the well and the empty warmth that twined about me like steam. Its grasp tightened. My feet scraped across the floor, my senses hazing.
"Stella."
This—this was wrong.
Alarm flared in me.
I had to stop, had to stay away from the well.
But my feet wouldn't listen. I lurched forward, my hands striking the coarse stone that fashioned the well. Blue light danced on the walls and ceiling, coiling and arcing.
Dread settled in my stomach as I leaned forward and peered down into the well.
The stone walls opened into a chasm of glistening raw white stone. As I leaned forward, though, a pair of orange-green eyes glared up at me. A malicious smile formed in the ether.
It rooted me in place.
The cold sensation of the slime from the chasm whisked along my memory.
The paralysis.
The fear.
The eyes.
The Gola Resh.
"Hello, girl."
My mouth went dry, my fingers digging into the stone. I tried to pull away or even blink against the humming force that dragged me forward. My shoulders slumped, my elbow striking the edge of the stone as I leaned forward.
No. I had to stop.
Had to scream. Had to call for someone.
My voice stayed frozen in my throat.
A face appeared in the mist. "How does it feel to be so close to home and yet so far from your heart?"
