Solace wasangry.
The girl didn’t know how she could understand the goddess’ emotions, but she inherently knew, deep in her bones, that the place had a feeling.
The girl felt her body inadvertently pull toward the door directly in front of her, as if Solace was moving her to where she needed to be. Her hand reached out and grasped the shaking knob of the door. The knob continued to vibrate under her palm as if anticipating what would happen when she finally turned it and entered the room.
Stealing another quick breath, the girl turned the knob and walked through the door.
Chapter 5
The Girl
The girl was growing tired of walking through random doors and finding herself encased in darkness. For what felt like the thousandth time today, the girl turned a knob, only to have found herself surrounded by complete blackness. However, this time, instead of an absence of noise, she heard a distinct yet muted buzzing that sounded like a thousand voices talking at once. The words were indecipherable, but the girl somehow inherently understood what was being said.
Slowly, as the voices continued to speak, small specks of light illuminated all around her. The girl lifted her hands but found that she had none. In fact, she had no body, but was instead an incorporeal form; a simple soul that existed in this vast infinity of black and floating lights. There were thousands upon thousands of lights, all sparkling with the intensity of the sun. The girl was drawn in and completely mesmerized by the beauty surrounding her. Each of the specks radiated a warmth that wrapped around her soul and elicited a feeling akin to love or comfort.
The girl was still, simply watching the lights sparkle and dance. But, as she watched, she saw huge groups of them dim and die out. Some dimmed slowly before becoming fully extinguished; others were bright one minute and gone the next. As each light flickered out, the girl felt an incomparable sadness and pain wash over her soul. It was as if each spark took a piece ofher as it dimmed and died. Her soul ached as more of the lights rapidly faded from existence.
She was suddenly overcome with the need to touch them. Maybe, if she could hold them, she could protect the light from dying. To her left she saw a light start to flicker and wane. Not wasting time to think, the girl lunged and floated her soul form over to the waning light. She reached out and brushed her ghostly fingers over it, only for her soul to be suckedintothe light.
The feeling was entirely disorienting. She felt as if she were being compressed into the smallest size the universe would allow. Just when the girl felt like she would cease to exist if this feeling continued any longer, she felt apopand the compression released all at once.
The girl expected to be in another room at Solace, but she found herself floating somewhere above her village. The girl tried to move her body around, but something was anchoring her here to this exact moment and place. She found that she couldn’t turn away and couldn’t leave. The light had brought her here, and now it demanded that she see.
The girl watched, helplessly, as a Fire Mage expelled an enormous wall of fire from his hands, the flames engulfing three houses that stood nearby. The girl heard cries of pain and terror and could smell the acrid stench of burning flesh and wood as the flames consumed the structures faster than should have been possible.
Suddenly, a door to one of the houses opened and a young woman fell onto the grass just outside the entryway. The girl lifted her head to take in her surroundings, and sucked in a pained breath at the macabre sight that greeted her. The woman’s skin was burnt and falling off, and one eye had burst, causing blood and fluid to drain down the side of the woman’s face. The other eye was bloodshot and searching sluggishly for something. The woman’s hair had burned down to her scalp, and her clothes were completely gone. The girl knew everyone in her village, but this woman was burned beyond recognition.
The girl stared in horror at the woman, or what was left of her. At that moment, the Fire Mage looked to his right and noticed the woman crawling on the grass toward where the girl’s incorporeal form was anchored. There was a maniacal grin on his face, his pupils blown, and he quickly made his way toward the woman on the ground.
The girl tried to shout, she tried to help, but she was unable to move from the spot where the light placed her. The woman’s face suddenly shot up and her one eye made contact with the girl’s soul.
“See me. Remember me,” she said, though her lips never moved.
Then, the Fire Mage was looming overtop of the woman. He raised his hands, and fire encased the woman once more, burning her alive.
The girl tried to scream, but she was ripped from the vision and thrown back into the room with the fading balls of light. She tried to reach back for that light. Maybe if she went back she could dosomething. Warn the woman, fight the Fire Mage, anything but sit and watch. But as she stretched for the ball of light, it flicked out of existence.
The girl let out a cry as her shadowed fingers passed through empty space. She quickly spun and reached for another orb that was flickering near the one that the girl just touched. As her hand made contact with the new orb, she was met again with the feeling of compression and disorientation before being spat out at another place in her village.
She was in front of different homes this time, but the sounds and smells were the same. Everywhere around her, people—herpeople—were dying and her village was burning. Again, she could do nothing to stop it. Her soul was anchored to one spot, and she was forced to watch the scene play out.
Unlike last time, she knew the girl in front of her. Layla lay in a heap on the ground, her body wracked with sobs. Under her was Mato—Layla’s husband. His eyes were glassy and unseeing, his white hair a bloodied mess as it stuck to his forehead. Blood and grey brain matter still oozed from the side of his head, near his left ear, where part of his skull was caved in.
Layla’s body shook as her fingers clawed at Mato’s still form, coming away bloody every time she touched his face or head. Her belly, thick with child, pressed against his chest.
“Please.” Her cry was pained and guttural. “Come back to me. Take me instead! Take me instead.” The girl felt Layla’s sorrow down to her marrow, a tight feeling taking root in her chest as Layla’s cries turned more fevered and less intelligible, until all the girl could hear was Layla’s sounds of despair.
Lost in her pain and grief, Layla was unaware of the soldier approaching from the side of the house. The girl tried to scream at Layla, tried to force her to look, but her voice was silent and her position cemented. The soldiertowed a dark-skinned woman, braided beads clicking with every step, with him—she was chained to his belt, her hands pressed to the soldier’s side, a slight gap between his tunic and pants allowing for direct skin contact. He had a slightly manic look about him; his black eyes were wild and his grin was feral. Even without the wild look in his eye, the man would have sent shivers down the girl’s spine. He was lithe but strong, and he walked with the air of a predator. His dirty-blond hair was thick with blood, and it dripped onto his collar and shoulders with every step. He took in the sight of Layla and Mato, inhaling a deep breath through his nose as if scenting the scene.
A Pain Mage. The girl thought.
His eyes rolled in the back of his head as he drew power from Layla’s pain and suffering. The girl attached to the Pain Mage shuddered as the Essence he drew from the anguish coursed through him and emptied into her.
His Vessel.
He opened his eyes and took purposeful steps toward Layla, unsheathing his short sword as he walked. His black tunic, pants, and boots were wet with blood and other matter that the girl didn’t want to identify. The blade of his sword matched the state of his clothing, already the blood from his previous victims congealed along the sharp edge.
Layla, caught in her immense grief, neither heard nor saw the soldier as he approached where she lay prostrate over her husband. The soldier’s approach reminded the girl of a predator stalking its prey—he knew that Layla had no place to run, knew the kill was guaranteed, so he didn’t rush the approach, but reveled in it.
