Immortals | ✓

18 | aethera

How can a human kill a God? Through prayer or power? Forgetfulness or replacement? 

How can a human misuse a God? By misusing faith? or by neglecting the power of the Immortal?

━━ αθάνατοι ━━

HERE'S a hypothesis. I don't think anyone wakes up from a trance within mere seconds, especially not a trance cast on someone from a powerful, otherworldly being. I think they wake up slowly, realising every movement of their body, thinking thoughts which have been kept away from their attention in full vigour. I think the trance-like state is broken further when the person overthinks the realization of their reality. I am new to this, and it is not a well-thought-out hypothesis. Now that I think about it, it's not a structured hypothesis at all; it's just an experience I am trying to analyze in my state. 

Because, lets face it, what else can I do now? 

I had been through phases of panic already. There was guilt - I should have never been this careless and somewhere out there Art and the others were worried because of my absolute stupidity. I also felt shame - I had walked right into her trap. I felt anger - because, why not? In the time that I had been in this state of no control, I couldn't help but be angry at this woman and then myself. I also felt helpless and that somehow was the worst of all feelings that I felt. 

Helpless because all I could do was watch her face, her scary, scarred face which I couldn't look away from. For a fleeting moment I felt bad about the scar, and the hurt it may have caused when it must have happened. But then she would smirk at me, playing with her fingers as the car drove us to a plane, and my feelings would be replaced by anger and hurt. 

I knew she was taking me somewhere far away, I was nowhere around England after a few hours of being on that flight. It was a private aircraft with no one around except the hidden pilot and her, sitting right in front of me, sipping whiskey like water. 

While fighting off her powers, I must have dipped into unconsciousness about three to four times and each of these was followed by feeling more helpless. I couldn't move until she forced me to get up and walk around, I couldn't breathe until she allowed me. I couldn't feel my limbs until she gave me the liberty to. 

In all of these torturous circumstances, my captor was fully awake and aware of what she was doing. She did not bat her eyes, she never slept, she never left. I tried to look away, but even the ability to close my eyes without her permission was taken away. 

I didn't know who she was or what she was. I wasn't even sure she was one of us with powers like that and in that state of unknowing and the lack of defense, I felt more powerless. As if the days that followed this moment weren't enough to make me beg for my powers, I sat in front of her through all our travels, trying to pray to whatever God was ready to hear. I begged and I prayed for the magical appearance of my powers, at least now, finally. 

When we finally arrived at the cabin, she allowed me to feel the snow beneath my shoes. My fingers moved to touch the bark of the tree I stood beside and that was the first independent action she had allowed my limbs. She removed the hood of the cloak that had been hiding most of her face and I saw a lock of dark hair escape behind the cloak as she fidgeted with the aged lock of the stone cabin. 

"Oh, what the hell," she muttered, taking a step back as the lock cracked underneath her powers and the door swung open. 

"Welcome home, love," she whispered, and I could hear the hidden smile as she entered the cabin.