The Mayaware's reign has to end.
In a world of demonic beings with a hunger for human flesh, and thirst for blood, Hesi Renen knows it well. When her siblings are taken to the harvesting farms, she must do everything she can to get them out, even if...
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If the Fields of Topt was supposed to be filled of metal clanking, footsteps screeching, and sunlight streaming through her eyelids, perhaps Hesi shouldn't have accelerated her leap to it. She turned her head aside, but the burning rays haven't relented. Sheets rustled, their noise a loud thrum in her ears. Then, she sucked a breath in. Two.
"Hesi," a voice called her. Familiar. Too much, in fact. What was he doing in the afterlife? Did the Mayaware catch him too? "Can you hear me?"
Her eyes cracked open in mere slits, letting more of those scalding light into her eyeballs. White haze threatened to consume her vision even if it was just slowly returning. Through the veil, a blob of brown and black edged from her periphery and blocked some of the light. As her senses returned, she felt a steady grip on her shoulders, riding down her arms, and stayed there. Wood creaked and clattered to the ground, jolting some of her focus back.
Slowly, the blob became more pronounced, showing her two eyes, a nose, and a chin. Lips...
"Hesi," the face said again. "Can you speak? Can you understand me?"
She knitted her eyebrows. What's up with those questions? It's not like she's still in Tjarma anymore. Or...wait.
The face. The noise. Could it mean...?
"Kharta," a single word flew out of her mouth, flitting to the air with its weak timbre.
The ceiling became clearer as her vision sharpened and blurred one last time. Stone. Painted over with a mural depicting more atrocious Mayawarean mythology. There's no way the Fields of Topt would have that. Which meant...
"I'm alive?" Hesi breathed. Her chest clunked, pain shooting off her heart and gripping her muscles. Before she could say anything more, a spasm rose from her stomach, climbing out of her throat and out of her mouth in a rush of iron and ink. She started hacking, curling in on herself to attempt to contain the stabbing pain, the liquid pouring off her pores, and the wretched state she was in. Clambers of feet rose to a storm, drowning out any sense she could have of the world. Someone was shouting. Probably Kharta. What was he doing here anyway? Didn't he have steward duties to think about?
The pain spread from her stomach and throat to her head, her limbs, and to her chest. The coughs kept coming, wracking her whole body and making it bounce against whatever she was lying on. It was violent. It was hell. Hesi's fingers clawed at her throat, to wring it herself just to get it to clam up. Her fingers turned rigid and turned to dust before her eyes. The ceiling caved in and crashed over her. The light flickered. Stars blossomed from the floor.
A deep, manic chuckle rose from her gut. She's starting to see things. Great. A weight pressed against her, pinning her against the soft cushion. A warm current of bitterness rushed down her throat, flushing the rust back. She choked, a wretched sound coming out of her mouth.
The darkness started creeping in. At first, it was just at the edges of her vision. Then, it was her eyes. Next were her limbs. Her muscles. Her brain. Her head tilted down, giving her a view of the white sheets thrown over her legs and what dripped down her fingers. It was red.
