Page 106 of Florescentia

I shifted to sit on my side. There were no manuals for this, not one that would cooperate, that is. The grimoire was still blank.

More silence . . . and suddenly I didn’t feel motivated to do this anymore. Not at all.

I pulled my legs to my chest, my chin on my knees as I hugged them. I contemplated while mentally tracing over the patterns of my arm. They always reminded me of looking at the stars in the middle of nowhere.

I craned down to bury my face in my knees, my head beginning to throb from all the pressure.

“What do I do now?” I muttered.

“He could still be there.” Altair placed his hand on my shoulder, squeezing, “but you may not find him in time unless you go through yourself—”

“Lucia!”

I raised my head.

The void was still; there was no one here.

“Dorian?” I whispered. Then louder, “Dorian?” On my hands and knees, I inspected the void. “Was that him?”

Silence again.

Did I imagine it?

I plunged my hand through the black liquid, feeling around, to no avail. The surface rippled; my Peculiar was displeased.

My arm kept reaching deeper and deeper, palm wide open, as if he would grab my hand right there and I could pull him out.

“Dorian, can you hear me?” I yelled, now shoulder-deep inside.

“Careful!” Altair hissed.

With a gulp of breath, I submerged my head into the void. I forced my eyes open in the abyss, holding my breath. There was nothing. Just dark depths, and sunrays from above dancing around me, stretching down deep before the light ran out, and there still was no end.

It was quiet, as anything submerged would be. But eerily so. When I thought of the Otherside, even seeing it partially when traveling through water, there were plants, living things, what I assumed was a combination of both our worlds. But I looked through my Peculiar, and it was empty.

Then, a vibration.

It must have been loud, yet no sound could be heard except the rumbling in my ears. I thought my eardrums might burst.

I yanked my head from the void. Tonic was squirming, thrashing. Good thing I removed my head before one of these fits took it off.

“Tonic,” I called, but it just shriveled, a jittering mess.

Then, that awful, horrid shriek again.

“Back away!” Altair yanked me toward him.

With my arms wide, I scooped the items into the satchel, the last item being the grimoire. Then I noticed the page.

It wasn’t a portrait of Dorian.

It was black.

A long, sharp appendage forced its way up and out of my Peculiar, then it dug into the ground, a scythe in shape, like a mantis’s claw.

Another pointed limb sprouted from the small void opening, stretching out my Peculiar as it screeched. Then, many floating eyes juggling around the form, trying to find a place to belong, before they locked in on me.

I kicked up the dirt with my heel as I scurried back, ran through the back door, and then bolted it. I ran into Altair, his form turning to smoke as I passed through him. The noises from outside didn’t stop, and I kept running. When my foot hit the first step, the back door and its hinges shattered, the bolt clattering across the hallway.