Ebony Wings

26

~Ali~

Sunrise is our alarm clock. When morning breaks, we gather our belongings and walk to the church's door, leaving our bags hidden inside a the branches of a small shrub. My skin pebbles the closer I approach to The Church, a twist constricting my gut, a nervous anticipation - oddly, not a particularly bad feeling. 

The wooden door creaks lifelessly on its slanted hinges as Ethan presses his fingers to its worn, metal handle. A cold breeze is released from the belly of the church, passing us in a shuddering breath. 

Day eight...

Tomorrow they will be here for Jaz and I, of that promise I am sure. The very thought of their army and weapons, the way they will mercilessly strip our souls from our bodies and the breath from our lungs has me whimpering. Sensing my inner monologue of suffering, Ethan comes up behind me and wraps me in a hug, cradling my head to his chest. I take the moment of comfort, pressing as far as I can into his body, and briefly allow my mind to hollow. 

Soon after, Jack and Jaz pass the threshold and step inside. At that moment I realise we both have held on a moment longer than necessary. I smile nervously at him and follow the other two. 

The first thing I realise about the church is the smell. The air inside is a potent mixture of damp wood and distantly burnt frankincense, a scent that settles like lead in the nostrils and then sweetens after a moment of consideration. The next thing I realise is the sound, the ghostly silence of the walls ruined by our steps reflected across the domed roof, sinfully loud. The small chunks of obsidian volcanic rock skitter across the floor as our feet kick them. I take a piece under my boot and it crushes into ebony ash. Looking closer around the room, hardened igneous rocks clutches to the corners of the room, settled into the grooves of the stone floor, a testament to its history.

The further I venture into the vastly empty room, the stronger the prickling sensation grows across the back of my scalp, spreading down my body, both unfamiliar and yet comfortable. I try to calm myself down before my heart rate rockets into a frenzy and gingerly scan the area around us, spying through the narrow windows, expecting to see a pool of shadows following. But even while looking around, I force myself to acknowledge the sensation is less intrusive, less scrutinising than before and more of a... recognition. I try to ignore it nonetheless, whatever the response means, continuing as if I don't feel my body buzzing, and soon the feeling dwindles to a distant tickle at the base of my neck. 

We continue searching the room for something, but still find nothing. I am not sure what I was hoping to find - maybe The Book in a polished glass case, displayed on a carved pedestal in the centre of the room, a heavenly golden light shining on it like a spotlight? (don't judge me for my cliche precision, I am already embarrassed enough by it) - but it certainly wasn't an empty room, dust mingling with the narrow shafts of tilted light. Although the church is empty, it feels even more desolate than simply looking empty. So long ago devastated, ghosts seem to paint the walls with their forgotten souls.

"Something has to be amiss. There is nothing here!" Jaz paces the perimeter of the room, kicking at the porous rocks gripping the ground, huffing in frustration. 

"No," Ethan responds, his gravelly voice echoing. "The Book is here - Jack and I can feel it." 

"What can you feel? I don't feel anything!" I catch the disappointment outlined on her face, the corners of her eyes seeming to tilt down.

"You're human, Jaz," Jack chuckles as he feels against the wall. "You won't feel it."

"What's 'it'?" Jaz's attention is taken away from the room and onto what she is clearly not a part of.