Molly (1/10)

Chapter 33

He was in a chasm falling endlessly. He tried to shout but his lips were sealed with wire, and when he reached out to touch himself instead he touched the mirror before him. Blinking, he wretched, crawling along the ground, trying to see his hands--fruitless, in the end. Some things were not meant to be seen.

He awoke, crawling, and for a long moment Dascul thought the dream world had finally seeped into the real world. Instead, he realized was just a puppet, and as he looked upon the mound with the red flags and human bones sticking out of the dirt next to bodies half-buried Dascul realized that this was his time.

He began to climb. He heard someone shout; a woman. Selena, probably. She usually kept watch because she said she never had to sleep. They'd taken her up on that bet, then realized that they had been duped: Selena had told the truth.

Each outstretched hand caused him to curl up in pain; each time he took a step he nearly stepped on a needle or a shard or worse. They might have adopted the sheep-mother as their mantra but Dascul and his kin were still human. They were no less susceptible to death than anyone else. Their response to that disease, however, was very different from the norm.

Dascul forced himself to love the climb. He relished at the thought of dying; this was the mind-shift, of which they had been taught to exercise if they ever hoped of proving themselves in fighting or climbing the mound. He searched the top now. Wouldn't be long before he'd reach the mid-point. Then, they would come, as they always did.

Indeed it was Selena who he recognized first. She put a foot on the mound, beaming as she watched Dascul suffer. Dascul tried to ignore her, then others came: Ahn and Furst and Bedial; they were all here, and were now climbing the mound.

Dascul panicked. He began to claw into the ground, losing his sheep-skin, something of an offense but the sheep-mother had told them they had to win no matter what; they had to beat their enemies into the dirt before it was over; in the end this was all she asked of them.

They were approaching fast. Just a little farther, and Dascul would make it to the top. To achieve such a goal would be grandiose; he could see them all now, apologizing to him, groveling.

He was about to cross the last flag when he heard laughing. They were taunting him. Dascul turned, then realized he had failed. He wished he'd never done this. He would have been more patient but the dream had been so strange.

One misstep was all it took. He fell, rolling down the mound. Those of the sheep bellowed in glee. Nothing was better for them than to know they were right and the world was flawed in its grand design.

They pulled him down and threw him at Selena's feet.

"Poor, stupid Dascul."

He reared up. He wanted to fight before he died. He turned to them, then raised his chin in defiance, his hands bound into fists.

"I'll fight you. I'll fight all of you. I'm not afraid to die."

"Clearly not."

Selena snaked past him, running a hand over her scalp. "This isn't going to end well for you."

"Then I will die here and now, under Her gaze."

She stared at him, slightly smiling. Playing with her food.

"Fine. Beat them. Beat me. Then climb the mound. You'll be a hero--a legend. We'll sing songs about you until we're dead and then...then it doesn't matter anymore, does it?"

She took his face and held him close. He could smell her. He could smell the blood and the sweat.

"I feel so sorry for you."