Sybil (Completed)

A Winter Breeze

"I have memories," I reply, looking to the woman, her dark auburn hair curled and pulled back from her sharp facial features, attire kept simple with black jeans, matching leather jacket, and combat boots. "I can remember him." Head tilting at the slightest angle, the woman seems not to believe me, as if curious what is going through my head right now. "Who are you?"

The woman seems hesitant to answer, her lips slightly parted as she almost gives an immediate answer. "A friend." I become worried, realizing that this woman is not as nice as she seems to be. If she was holding me here against my will, she would be shoving me back into the dark room and I would be fighting her. We do not know one another, for her face has never been seen by my eyes. "A friend of Zion's." She is lying. I can recall Zion, the type of people he surrounded himself with, and nothing could alter his choice in friends without me seeing a change. "Do you remember who he even is to you?"

I hold my head high, annoyed with the woman. "I told you, I remember who Zion is, why is it so important to you that I recite my whole life to you about how I know Zion."

"You say his name like a foreign word."

Laughter occurs down the hallway, bringing my sharp focus there as I push past the woman, my legs still feeling like jelly. The light becomes stronger the farther I venture, the hallway of this building unfamiliar as I wonder what landed me here. Bare feet cold against the floor, my fingers brush against the cold stone of the walls, fingers running over the rough material as my vision blurs a little.

"Sybil!" The woman calls out. Something tells me she is talking to me, as if calling my name. Looking back to her, those eyes seem to glow in the dark, as if they were crafted to dwell within the shadows of the world. I can remember the shadows used to scare me, but now, they feel like a warm blanket of familiarity, as if helping to calm me. "Sybil, it is best if I go with you." There it is, that name again, calling out to me. "Sybil?"

Sybil. I can hear that name being yelled in my head, flashes of white, a feeling of hollowness. The name of that sound spirals around in my head, memories of a pair of golden eyes, the figure who owns those eyes always shouting at my name, as if hopeless.

I stumble back, right into the rather warm body of the woman who claims to be the friend of a man I can remember. Arms wrapping around my torso, I find my legs giving out as the woman helps me lower to the floor. Her hands on my face, she shakes me, telling me to keep my eyes open as I become tired. I feel as if I have been here before, done all of this before. My body becomes colder as the woman shouts, her voice muffled as I feel like there is something on my forehead. My tongue feels numb, my body limp as I find it too hard to move, to even breath feels like too much work for me.

A sharp pain hits my face, the woman having used the back of her hand, a ringing in my ear occurring as I see a small group of three women looking over me. Each holding the same set of bright green eyes, they look at me with worry, whispering among themselves in an unfamiliar language as I bunch the sides of my dress with my fingers. "Sorry, I just got tired," I apologize, my tongue no longer numb as I try and process what just happened.

However, no longer am I back in that hallway, but laying down, on the same stone bed, back into the darkness of the room I woke up in. "How did I get here?" I ask, worry flooding my voice as I try and sit up straight. One of the women pushes me back down to the bed, telling me to get some rest before I go outside again. "How long have I been here? Since I fell in the hallway?"

No reply.

How long have I been here, in this dark room? Looking to the floor beneath me, I see little drops of blood, gemstones right next to them as they too have remains of blood. My attention to my sleeves which hold the gemstones, I see different parts of the design gone, little cuts in my arm. One is fresh, from the last time I rolled off of this bed and hit my shoulder; however, other cuts look almost fully healed. There are at least seven multiple scabs on my arm.

How long have I been doing this? Waking up and replaying these events over and over?

As I am about to sit up, whispers run through the walls, a glowing blue mist passing through the walls and coming for me. I do not panic as it drapes itself over me like a sheet, a sudden feeling of sleep passing over me as I allow the darkness to consume me. I fear I will keep relieving these past moments over and over again. Am I dead?

A scream erupts on the other side of the door, pulling me out of my slumber as the blue mist dissolves into the air. Sitting up, I allow myself to get to my feet rather than fall onto my shoulder once more. Pulling open the door to the room, I try and figure out where the scream could have come from. Scared, I stay in the shadows as I edge closer to the end of the hallway where the light was. As I pass a doorway, a small room lies before me. The woman who claimed to be a friend of Zion's, she lies on the floor, cowering in fear as a tall male has his back to her. "You said she would be ready by now," he growls, the walls shaking with the power of his voice as I oddly recall the voice. I can recall that voice screaming my name, hopeless as he called out to me.

"She is fragile, I said this could be a risk, for her to relive those moments over and over."

"Does she even remember me?"

"I am working on it. Yesterday she said she could remember your name," the woman replies, afraid of the male as she seems to beg with him. "A month ago she could not remember anything."

A month?

Silence floods the room as the male shakes his head, laughing as if insane. Grabbing a vase off the table beside a shut curtain, he smashes it against the wall, screaming out the name this woman called me by. "I am damned, am I not, Fiona? I trapped you into a spell that bound your soul to me, offering you freedom if you could save my wife, and even after all the risks you said were possible, I still defied death."

"You did not defy him, Zion, but you tricked him. I am the only witch with enough power to even have that capability. You knew even with my power she may never be who you remember her to be." Zion, the man whose name I said I could remember, I recall fragments of him, those eyes, hands stained red, and even telling me beautiful words. I thought I would remember him to be some strong male rather than one on the brink of insanity. "Her soul is not hers, not entirely."

Zion takes in a deep breath, turning around to the witch as I see those golden eyes of his look sharply at the witch. Dark brunette locks combed back as if by fingers in an attempt to relieve stress, sharp jawline, and looking more lost than anything, he is not who I thought he would be. "I want my wife back, I want the only thing, the only person that mattered to me back. You may see this as selfish, Fiona, which it is, but death stole from me not only my happiness and future with her, but all the memories she had left to create in life."

Fiona looks up to the man, careful to not raise her head too high. "She is damaged."

"Are not we all?"

Just as the male begins walking my way, I slide back farther into the shadows, wondering what this male would do if he saw me here. As his strides take barely any time to reach the darkness of the hall I stand right in the middle of, the moment he sees me, he stays frozen. Am I not someone he has wanted to see?

Eyes scan me over and over, as if trying to memorize every detail. Tall, built, and an intimidating look about him, I feel no fear as I stand before him. For some reason, I feel relaxed as I look to him. Reaching out his hand, he quickly pulls it away, as if afraid he might damage something. He takes a small step forward, looking at me as the silence wraps around the two of us. Reaching out once more, he allows his fingers to just barely brush against my chin, only to retreat slightly. "Can-can I hold you?" He asks, unsure of my response as I do not know whether to allow or deny him. He seems lile someone who could use some sort of affrction and I seem to trust him. "Please," he begs, voice soft as I look past the male to Fiona who stays at a safe distance.

Backing away, Zion seems to already know my answer before I can give it. Giving me space, he looks back to Fiona. "She is fragile," the witch reminds him, her eyes focused on me as my eyebrows furrow together.

"What happened to me?"