He had spent his whole life bifurcating himself until his identity had become a multifraction which created a whole new man that he wasn’t sure he recognized. Being the last shard of glass that held reality together for centuries had begun to wear on him; the last piece of glass that held strong in a cracked mirror… if he let go, what would happen?
The Sparrow didn’t know who he actually was inside all of these aspects of himself. What is an identity? What makes an individual? This woman stood before him demanding an answer to a question that no one had ever asked. Hope for what?
He didn’t know the right response, and yet his spirit had demanded that she arrive here on this day. This day of all days, they all needed help from one that was truly living, someone mortal. What is life without death?
“It’s our anniversary…” he whispered.
“Fucking anniversary of what” she spat back at him. He recoiled at the vehemence in her voice. There had been a time in his life when he would have responded in kind; but he was too tired and spoke the truth before he had time to think.”
“They were just children when she brought them down here. My wife. She brought them down here and made them drink from the well. If I had known, I wouldn’t have allowed it. The water in this well is filled with a magic that is destructive if one does not have free will when they drink of it. May 22nd, 1855.”
The woman stared at him for a long moment before she asked, “you said our anniversary.” The question clear in the statement.
She had yet again picked up on something that none of the others had, perhaps she really was the key to the end. When he spoke again, he didn’t realize that he had been holding his breath; as the words tumbled from him, a strong scent of lavender flowed out. He’d almost forgotten what that smell meant to him.
“I got here just in time. I drank from the cup that she held out to me.”
“What happened?”
Another question no one had ever asked. How many people had Bartholomew trapped down here? Hundreds, thousands?
“I drank from the cup because I wanted to be wherever my children were.”
She waited for him to say more, when he didn’t, she repeated, “What happened?”
“We all split into different planes of existence. They found a cursed immortality, she died because she tried to manipulate the power of the well, I broke into a million pieces that only coalesce into consciousness on this date each year,” his shoulders sagged as he looked at the stone floor.
“What do you want from me…” she whispered.
Cultivating Sunshine 