Had she ever slept so deep as this? She would have thought herself dead, or at least held prisoner again, were it not for the small seepages of consciousness, motes of awareness dripping onto her mind. Those brief flashes left more impressions than details of what the last few howeverlongs had held for her.
Overwhelming concern for someone she loves.
Fear for the life closest to hers.
Anger, that she could feel so in control one moment, so powerless the next.
Determination to save her sister from the hard place of her delirious dreams and the rock of her remedy.
Refreshing air. Dark streets. The all too familiar, anxious smell of burlap. Strange that that particular emotion struck her with such force. Then again, perhaps not. Defining moments tend to leave their mark, after all.
The thick insentience gives way. A trickle of perceptions grows into a flood of sensation that shatters her stupor. Loxaceles startles. Her eyes open, widen, roam and narrow in rapid succession, trying to give her some bearing, some idea as to what has happened to her. What she sees is less than she should, given her gifts, but more than she would like.
She has been here before. A situation precisely like this. A place…much like this. A featureless stone floor. Rough wood on her bare back and legs as binding as the cold metal around her wrists. Something was different, though. There were the anguished cries that had filled her ears so long ago, to be sure, but these lamentations surpassed the paltry tones an ear could perceive. These were the whimpers of souls in pain. That was the difference. Not bodies…souls. And as such they reached her own soul and she wanted to share sorrow with them. She was wrong. The situation was nothing like it had been all those years before. It was far worse.
Straining against the desire to join the voices that draped her spirit in dread, she found both steel and tears. The former offered strength, but the latter betrayed the weight of that strength. What had happened to her? Where was this prison?
“You’ve a fire in you, little one.” The oily voice slipped next to her from some unseen recess of the room. Pushing aside the background sonance, the man’s words were firm and full of confidence, but they betrayed great age and greater insight. “I’ve seen inside many souls, miss…Loxy, they call you, no?”
“Who’re you?” Her eyes flashed a dark golden hue. “Where am I?”
Her questions seemingly did not register.
“Loxy. Yes, that’s it. Such an unpretentious name to go by, it strikes me.” She struggled to pinpoint his location, but her normally preternatural hearing failed her. She had no idea if the man was in the room, above the room or was the room. This unsettled her. “Unpretentious…unpretentious,” he repeated, his voice trailing off slightly. “Indeed, nothing at all in your name or appearance has ever hinted at the fire I see in you.” The tone changed from one of amusement to malicious indictment. “But its effects are unmistakable.”
Before he could continue, she asked again, more forcefully this time. “Who…are you? Where’s m’sister?”
She could almost see the smile slither onto his lips as he spoke again. “Ah, yes…the sister. We’ll get to her soon enough, Loxaceles. But for now, I’d like to know more about you.”
“To hells with you,” she blurted out with all the bravado she could muster.
A long silence, void even of the lamentations.
“Perhaps. But I’ll not be alone. I’ll have many friends and brothers and…sisters with me. So important to have family, don’t you think?”
A dark veil brushed over her mind that she had not felt for many years. Panic. Loxy had faced all manner of horrors in her few short years. She had been in a prison without walls and a childhood without love. She had been at odds with her family, her gods, her people, even her sister…her beloved sister. This horror was altogether different. He knew. He knew her and what was closest to her heart. She resisted the unfamiliar feeling of fear, shoring up her strength again. A tear she didn’t intend appeared as he continued, his cruel smile palpable in his voice.
“Of course, family can be a blessing or a burden, don’t you agree?” She angrily squeezed her eyelids shut, trying to drive away the traitor perched on her lash. He took an exasperated tone. “I mean, one dear to me had no family. None. I tried to provide it for her. I tried to help her,” he paused, sighing heavily “because I know how important family is to her. But I don’t have to tell you that, do I?”
Without appearing to struggle, Loxy tested her bonds. They were as firm as any that had ever held her, which was saying something. Her path was set, it seemed. She could only wait to be shown where it would lead. She didn’t wait long before the walk started downhill. Another heavy sigh foreshadowed the frustration that followed on its heels.
“Such life in that one. Always was. She endured so much at the hands of fate. She loved and lost, felt life grow only to die. Still she stood strong. But even those possessed of great strength cannot carry on alone. How much harder for one barely more than a child? In the quiet times, when gods are busy and self-worth shaken, you need. Someone. Anyone.” Each word that fell on her ears weighed more than the last. “I only sought to help. A mother here. A daughter there. She regained her strength…and so much more...for us both.”
A brief, uneven growl startled her. Nearly pure quiet followed. She leaned her head forward and canted it leftward, straining to find a hint of his place in the room, if it even was a room. A second start caught her by surprise as the silence was again broken.
“But then…you happened along.” The words were more than a statement. They were an indictment.
She glanced sideways and back, certain that the old man was near her. Near her and moving. Circling. Why couldn’t she see him? A cold whisper on her neck answered her secret question.
“Because your Lady has abandoned you,” he hissed with certainty. “Among the gifts you bear, one above all flows from your Lady of Luck. You’ve lived these last years knowing she favours the bold. That she does. But your boldness is undone and her fickle favour is dry even now. I marveled often, little one, that the wheel never found you frightened, even in the face of all you’ve seen and been kept from seeing. I wondered long, child, vexed by your sway over the one dear to me. One who seems as unremarkable as you should not be so influential to one who was so steeped in pain and suffering, one so fully sold on deceit. But there’s more to you than just the wheel, isn’t there?”
Let me free and ‘ll show you, old man. If he knew, let him know that.
“Yes. That’s the substance of influence.” Again he drew her thoughts into the air. “That’s the surprise I found. I looked into your soul, child, and found the fire of the dragon, and courage to match. The force of it explains how you were able to wrest her from the path I’d chosen. Such an unexpected setback that.” His voice grew softer and more chilling, if that were possible. “Unexpected…and distressing, to have her choose a different shepherd, after all I’d done for her.”
“I suppose I can understand her choice. Understand her needs. We all need someone, after all. The daughter must leave same as the mother. They have needs of their own. Needs you will learn of soon enough.” He let that notion hang a long moment before continuing in an even more dire tone. “Child. Loxaceles. These moments are the last you live in freedom.”
For the first time since being thrust into her dark vault, she felt utterly forsaken.
A cruel chuckle marked his recognition of her despair. Again, he knew.
“Your sibling consolation ends here. My destiny will not be sullied by the likes of you, royal blood or no. Just as you were used to undo the work of a mother and a daughter, so shall you, the sister, be undone. You will find a special place in the family. Others serve me with little knowledge of my will and no knowledge of their own. For the damage you have done, you will bear special, eternal witness to my glory. None has ever cursed living and loving as you shall. Enter my unrest. My soul is thirsty.”
His voice took on an even, dreadful tone as he began the incantation. Immediately she felt crushed beneath a cold so dense she knew it would claim her. Her flesh offered no protection for her mind or her soul. A sliver of eternity passed before her next life began. Both cursed and blessed with a moment of lucidity, she was able to focus one thought before oblivion swallowed her.
Strength in the second, sister.
In The Second No More
In The Second No More
Talk less. Listen more.
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Current PCs: ?
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RangerDeWood
- Ogre
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- Joined: Sun Jan 11, 2004 6:03 am
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