Constellations

16. Cardinal

Spatium.
The void of nothingness.
A sea of stars and antigravity.

Home.

Mother told me that this is what this place was. This odd plane of existence lost to time and one's own memory of a fairytale. Prisionic is how I would describe it. Chained within a sort of solitary confinement, listening to echoes of a ghost. A cold psalm of white noise mimicking the endless nothingness that surrounds me.

Argentum... if only I had listened. Why did I have to touch it...? Why am I still suffering in this space...? Why couldn't I protect you? Why is it that my actions have led me here? Is this the fate of my future? To drift alone in this cacophony of space? A place where the moon is null, where stars are caged, where will is ripped away from you...

I want out.

I feel nothing, I am nothing, I belong to Mother in here.

Please... Please find me, Silver.

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Moly awoke from her dream, hoping her internal monologue would reach out beyond this astral environment. She stared up at the stars that loomed over her head. The vast emptiness, the silence, the sheer amount of nothing. It was all so much and yet so little. No other people, no one but her mother and her existed in this plane as it would seem. Sitting up, she looked at her mother.

Was she sitting there watching me the whole time..?

"When can I go back, mother?"
"Go back where my ͘dȩare̶sţ?"
"To Argentu--"
"N̛o̵t̢ until I say so."

There was a heavy silence before she hesitantly spoke up again, deciding to change the topic, "Mother," Moly began, sitting cross-legged in the empty antigravity space, "what can I do with this?" She asked as she looked at the floating Astrum above her open palm.

"Àn̸yt͠hi͝n͘g you wish, my daughter."
"What if I don't know what I wish?"

Silence now between the two beings. Staring at one another as if it were a contest. Static and broken blue eyes meeting hazy violet. Tense was the only way to describe this atmosphere. Tense, cold, and mind-numbing.

"If I can do what I wish, but I don't know what I wish, then what can I exactly do..?"

"As the th̷e v͝es͘s͡el͟, you will accomplish great things," Agatha spoke, stroking her daughter's cheek.

"Mother, this... I don't understand." Moly admitted, placing her hand on her chest. The burning 12 pointed scars evident center stage on her white chest, "I feel like I'm... not right. Not well. Not... myself..."

"You miss somebody." Agatha gave a hollow chuckle, changing the topic, standing in the antigravity void that is Spatium. Her static eyes piercing her daughter's deep amethyst orbs. "Am I right, my child?"

Moly lowered her head as if in shame. She never spoke about any feelings of closeness, no not since her mother's death. It was too painful. She couldn't relive it again, not again, not again, not--

"You worry about that hedgehog too much, my darling."
"Mother..?"
"Because if you simply accept being a v͝es͘s͡el͟... then you can cŗeat̨e a world free from pain̵."

There was a... coldness to her mother's voice--no, her entire being. Her mother was ice to the touch, the crystal blue eyes were like spears that pierced through her, but out of all of these characteristics, her voice seemed arctic. Never before has the fox felt such a confusing mix of safety and uncertainty rolled into one person, er, being.