Aches ripple through my limbs, each jolting pinch throbbing clearer and clearer like a plastic film unravelling. Air breaks away from me, and I roll onto my side, the after-taste of pain fizzing through my blood. Where? My eyes blink open weakly... and I drown. Not in darkness; drowned in light. White light. Clever. I'm already feeling anxious - the itch that had left (for good?) is again crawling through my under-space.
I squint, eyes spasming, but there's still no definition. Everything's a glare of bright white. So dense, nothing's clear any longer. Is 'here' a point, a room with walls and barriers and physical repulsion? Or, is this an open limbo? I can't tell, there are no longer any boundaries.
Like that paper, empty world that engulfed me along with IT.
No more Nicholas Salmain. No more howling. No more ginger kisses to the heart.
Elijah Voight, you didn't live a good life either, did you? That writhing, living passage that had churned out you had churned out the deformed trash that is Nicholas. No wonder you needed to run. In this we are the same, only that, you're endpoint had been a death born from loves accomplishment. Whereas mine, mine, it had gleaned no sweetness, it had fulfilled no purpose. EMPTY. Did I see heaven, teetering on the threshold of Born and Dying?
And now, I suppose, I'll die a second time - a death IT has proclaimed.
I laugh lightly and flop back to the cold, impartial floor. I thought I'd die immediately - no need to regret, no need to reach out with tendrils of lingering thought, no need to fear when there was no time to fear. But, IT didn't say when, did it? That hadn't been proclaimed along with my death sentence. I have no right to know, blind, like those dancing in the gallows, praying, praying, not seeing the final end. Someone tell me, is this punishment for throwing myself into the road last time? But I couldn't have done anything more at that time! How can't they see it?
It had been the last salvation.
My legs tremble against the hard stone.
Only a damnation now. When will it come? Now? Two days, three? In time for a will? An apology to Eirwen and Asier and Jacques and Set and Sol?
No. No, no, no, no, no.
Gasping, I push the heels of my palms into my eyes. I can't do it.
I don't want to go.
I don't want my heart to spasm and stop and the blood to thicken and fall to the bottom of my veins and my eyes to dull and lose the shine and my limbs to stiffen and my skin to colour a faint blue brilliance and my thoughts to cease and fade and
I DON'T WANT TO DIE.
'I die when you die.'
Sol... did they put Sol in a cell like this too?
I close my eyes. But it's no use. My blindness seems to have metastasised to my ears, and now, the silence is screaming.
Sol - not the first person I saw, but then, Ralphus hadn't been the first I saw either. Not the first or only to save me from the Kades, to save me from the desperately crowding hope and disappointment. But, I had been saved by him all the same, an angel, my angel?
Scream, scream, screaming—
'This bond will only be a hell for you'
We shared a secret, only us two - me as a fallen angel descended from another world, he, the true messenger. He swore an oath to me. I could confide in him; I needed to.
Still screaming, still screaming, blood knuckled—
'If it weren't my soul but someone else's, you'd still love this SHELL'
I trusted him. Completely? Even before Ralphus? Yes, I think yes. And it had hurt. I had wanted to call him a friend, confidant, comrade, but I couldn't.
I couldn't.
My fingers curl and clench.
'I shan't forgive you.'
Kept pushing him around, kept punching him, waltzing back and forth, back.
Smudged mascara, wide, wide lips, smiling, crying, "Be a good boy, be a good boy!"—
Not because I hated him, no, not because I wanted to punish him, no, because I trusted him. I was confident, always confident he'd love me no matter what.
I still and wrap my arms around my shoulders. Is this why? That, I screamed at him and punched him and begged him and stung him, because I trusted that he'd love me no matter my ugliness, no matter the stains seeping through my heart, no matter, no matter, no matter—
I dare you, I dare you to leave me!
Had I been shouting it all this time, as if the silence and long stares and frozen limbs weren't enough?
And now, before he knows anything real, I'm going to die.
Sol! SOL! SOL! SOL! I shout, tearing at the landing strip between us. But the silence is not enough of an answer. I need his voice - the rise and dip of his subdued tone, the coffee filled pauses between each flow of his words, the faint, flying rise to the sounds passing off his tongue every smile.
Sol.
—
I'm a temperamental person aren't I? But isn't everyone? I don't have a mirror, I can't keep seeing myself reflected in the glass. There are too many things and too many people crowding my mind at the same time, thinking about everything is so tiring. So when I get to you, I give up. But I should've thought, and it shouldn't have been left hanging when everyone else had their strings being attached in my mind. I don't hate you, I never have, and when you first came to me, I felt relieved.
—
Sol, are you on the other side? Are you listening? I relied on you before I could trust Ralphus or anyone. And, I'm not a dense person, how could I be with what my job was before? I told you, I worked with people, day, night, every day, every night, I couldn't let their emotions pass me by, and even now, I still can't. So, even before the jokes and the naps, perhaps from the very beginning, I knew, deeply I knew, but when you grabbed hold of me and didn't let go, when you bit into me, I exploded. But I think Sol, I think, I was secretly relieved even though I was hurt. I trusted you with everything, those things I told you about me, the host clubs, my death, I haven't told a single other person, and yet, you couldn't tell me about yourself.
—
Were you the one who couldn't trust me?
—
I curl tighter and blink into the boundless sea.
The way I was, the way I am now, I couldn't help but test it, again and again and again. Even though I knew it hurt you, I wanted to prove something to myself when I wasn't even thinking. I needed to. If you had just snapped back, just once, just once— Isn't that funny? I'm not a masochist. I'm not.
"Not." A whisper, barely audible passes through my lips.
Silence only knows how to crush me.
This last breath that I'm holding can be expelled Now.
T
h
e
n-
A fizzle and a crack, and life thrums through the strings that tug along my heart. Fireworks? Flowers blooming into brilliance? These subtle differences, I cannot tell, all I know is that it's wonderful. I never knew. I never knew except from the hideous and cruel need for rescue. But now, I can touch the angel's wing unflinchingly, gallant in the stretching of my mind.
This is barrierless too.
But beyond that, there's only an utopia that surpasses my mortal perceptions; a wonderland that is forged from two, not one.
It's been a while since we've had an honest conversation. He says, liquid gold eyes flowing into his voice until it's molten gold too.
Yes. I smile, It's been a while... I missed it.
I know. He says lowly, I know there are things we need to work through. And those things, I didn't know how to tell you. I dreamt of love, I dreamt of a fated Someone, but really, it was all bound to faded fantasies. I never expected, never, that I'd be allowed to cherish someone truly, so when you came, when you stepped in just like that, I was lost.
Grating swirls of confusion and wrenching twists of the heart plummets my mind into a controlled depth.
Truthfully, Coldness twists into Sols meaning until I almost return to the drenching rain and spraying blood, I didn't know what to do. You were wary, cautious like a circling beast. I didn't know how I could stop you from running. And I thought, fine, let him run, let my dreams quench, I'll just continue day in, day out, the way I was before. But after you had left, swept away by Ralphus, the hours became so long, the chill came back, and I couldn't do it. I just couldn't do it! I couldn't let you run, I couldn't even watch you leave! Why can't I be the One? I'm your fated pair, why is another male swaying you this way and that? I couldn't understand.
The corners of my lips tip down, and I rub my fingers against the solid hardness of the floor. Sol—
No, please let me continue. I'm not a kind male, I've never been, and I don't think I can be. I tried to hide it, really, I tried, but I'm possessive and territorial, and I can't bear seeing other waltz around you, covering you in their scent. I'm sorry that I didn't ask your permission before marking you, truly, I can repent for the entirety of my Merlow damned life! But. But, I still would've done it, even if you never forgave me, and I had to live in pain.
My mouth opens and closes comically. I understand, yes, I think I do. Just like perhaps, I would've still killed Dan and I would've still condemned Jacques and I would've still thrown myself into the crushing tires. But, I'll never forget it.
You'll never forget it...? A taunt sigh creaks from his side; gentle Sol comes back, We can override it, we will! With other memories, journeys, days. This is not our end, Cynder, do you hear me? We will have support on our side. I'm safe, we're both safe.
I blink, white light blinking like fireflies through the temporary dark. Support, yeah, I have that from the God who told me to run to my death.
Our death.
No more Cynder Delphus. No more Elijah Voight. No more Sol, Lilith of the Helm. No more fighting to connect with Ralphus. No more repenting for Jacques. No more reasonless embraces with Julius. No more family warmth from Eirwen. No More.
They've put us in the waiting cells, but I'd say they'd still take two or three days for preparation. And no matter how much the Order wants to go straight onto the execution, the laws declare for a trial. The Order representatives, the Emperor, the princes they'll come, but the Otherworlder, the Queen, she will come too, and not even the Lord of Mal can stop her. Even if worse comes to worse, Julius and Eirwen combined can free you out of there.
My fingernails drag along the floor, and my heart ticks the seconds faster. She will come?
Yes. His words soften and take on the halo he always has when talking about this woman, She's been planning on it since the start of the Season. A slight pause cuts his line of thought. She needed to meet the Zweos.
Pastel hair, pastel hair, a growing urgency—"The Prince, his soul's unstable, because he's falling apart!"
How did she come to know this? Didn't they, I squint my eyes, didn't they need me to save them? Her brother, what had he said? I was walking on the edge of a cliff to a fateful gulf that I had to fall and crash to in order for them to LIVE, in order for them to ESCAPE from some black, glaring hole yawning closer and closer.
A wave of frustration crashes over my buzzing body. I've already done that!
I cannot see the strings, but could this all be intertwined and anchored? The twins, the messages, the character: Cynder Delphus, the Otherworlder...
But every time the image of this Otherworlder comes into my head, I can only see THAT woman. A slow streaming sickness crawls through my skin. What does it matter if she can save us, what does it matter? But it won't stop; I can't stop.
She...You've known her for decades?
He settles. Yes, she's my saviour. I had planned for you to meet before the gambles officially started, outside the Academy, but she couldn't quite make the time especially with Ash's condition.
I flinch at the name, and no matter how hard I try to push it down, the horror of the single syllable sinks through the Bond.
Don't fear Cynder, I'm here. We're all here for you.
No, I mutter, brain whining, No, that's not it, this prince, he's sick?
—Falling apart—
A reserved heaviness extends into me, and like my fear, no matter how hard he buries it with blackened soil, I can still sense the slick draw of hesitation through the current of his tightly-wound self.
Trust me, please. Sol. Otherwise, one day, you might condemn me like I did Jacques.
A coffee sized pause. The homely walls of the apartment nearly take over the useless space. Her body may be that of this world's, but her soul is fabricated from that world. When she had a child with the Lord Mal, the prince's soul was formed raggedly, a half piece from that world, a piece from this world. To cure it, they needed the Zweo twins. The Otherworld attributes of his soul could be siphoned to the twins, whereas the Endora element could be transferred back.
My throat tightens, and the breath expanding my body flattens and stales. Pink hair and lilac eyes float into irritating clarity before the blur and re-focus of my lens. She must be only 9, 10, at most. At most. That year the Woman left me. He knew this. He knew what they were doing to the children.
It wasn't safe was it?
No one no longer has any words. The flowers are deflowered.
"Your Uhyls is in agony because of you. Your Uhyls cries for you."
She could see. He could see. Both, back and front, back and front, Earth and here. Earth.
Where? The lines tumble from my mouth, Where did she come from before, before this stage?
I can't stop.
The toll of a bell has begun ringing in my ears again. Hear, hear, this is the final declaration before the sun.
She came from E—
Fizzle. Crack. G o n e.
My fingers creak, digging into the hardened plates of my knees. Sol. SOl. SOL. Where did you say? Where?
But I heard it, A PLACE beginning with 'E' - Endora.
No, be rational.
The sunless brightness grates to a grey, slow, slower. Creak, I release my hands from my legs and rub my eyes. The greying space does not change. I'm not hallucinating. The lights truly are growing duller like a dying plain.
Clack. The resounding sound of shoes against ground clicks closer and closer towards me. Holding onto the floor, I stumble to my feet, eyes wandering over the barren emptiness (Still no boundaries). I can't be hallucinating this sound too? The 'E— has penetrated the vortex of my brain.
Clack.
A metre before me, the Grey wavers like a blank TV screen, and a vertical rip forces the boundless extension to crack. A booted foot stretches out, bodiless, a temporary ghost, then the entirety blinks into existence - a lion-headed woman.
Her starched black uniform hangs off her athletic frame with a careless exaction, and her amber eyes flicker a shifting recognition deep within. We've met before, at the Board, what's her name again? Erga? Erza? I've forgotten.
Her sharp gaze travels over my figure, and mixed within the steel apathy is a carefully measured and displayed frustration.
"I will be taking you to your trial. You do not have the right to call a lawyer, but you do have the right to remain silent." Her deep caramel voice lulls my bare wrists towards her, and before I can realise what my limbs are doing, two magic spells bind my arms together with a smarting sting.
Air spills from my half-open mouth. No more time, strange.
"I thought I had longer."
The shrug in her shoulders in barely perceivable.
I laugh under my breath, guts writhing in rebellion against my god damned skin, "So, I'm guilty before proven innocent?"
Her hand wavers over my shoulder, "They don't believe there's a need to prove you innocent."
My eyes snap towards her, but her gaze has already flown away.
"We've never had to judge an Otherworlder at the Academy, this will be a first." Her firm hold guides my sullen feet forwards towards the sizzling slit burning through space, "It'll be quick."
What'll be quick? The judgement? The death?
But just before the tip of my toe is forced through the whirling black hole of crackling dots and twitching air, I muster out, "And what about Sol, Lilith?"
Her strength diminishes, but she makes no answer.
My mouth sours, but I know better to struggle. Nothing's going as he said it would. But, then, I didn't think it would.
And we push through.
No sound. No sight. No smell. No sense. This passage not a passage, it a state non-being. Not like the others, not a swirl addled orientation
I gasp, air squeezing in, out, not enough. Each crack and whorl in the dark wood leaps up into me from beneath my shaking feet, and when finally, the cold rush of air crushes the squeeze of my chest, my head swings upwards. Hundreds of moons, pale moons, dark moons, furred moons light my eyes. So many, too many, more than I've ever seen. I can't distinguish one from the other, they all look the same. Is Jacques, is Eirwen and Asier sitting amongst this monster entity too? All made into one unit.
Arms pull me backwards on the stage. A woman and a man in all white, faces masked, and they're small, but god, how strong their fingers are, crunching into my bone. I'm dragged to the centre, turned around from the moon faces, and forced down onto my knees against the harsh floor. My eyes crash around the platform, men in white, women in white, no Sol, where is Sol? Why is he not here?
"Otherworlder." A monotone, but devouring voice like the darkened maw of a beast falls from above.
I can't do anything but look up.
Before a towering statue in bronze of an undefined being carrying a balanced scale, wings unfurled either side, is a throne. Red hair, darker than blood, darker than fire, darker than even wine spills from the man's head, and his eyes - pale eyes, so cool and alarming, I can't tell the colour from this distance, the high nose, the thin lips, and even with the middle-age creases cutting through his honeyed skin, there's no doubt, he's the highest power. A spear of splendid vengeance.
I wonder what I ever did to him, he - so tall on his high chair, and I - so low on my bruised knees.
"Representative." His lips barely move, but that sound - such an incredible, sonorous sound.
A mass of purple takes the open point below the elevation. This glowing, rose kissed face is one I know well. My teeth grit. Tessia. Oh, Tessia.
She raises her arms, a poor imitation of the winged humanoid, violet curls tumbling before and behind as if she was made of two detachments separate in nature, "As a representative of the Order, I hereby announce towards the Emperor, that this man is guilty as charged!"
My mind trips. What is this? This so-called 'trial', this procession of words that sway the balance down and up past the tender line of existence, is already over like this?
"I am not—
"Silence." He says, not even looking at me, "What evidence do you have, representative?"
Her lips curve like a sickle.
"It is known that the eldest son of Voight, Elijah Voight has deceased upon giving birth to an Elfen child fathered by Eirwen Salaben. And yet before us here, we see Elijah Voight again, alive. No magic in any form can bring the dead back to life, so I ask you, how can this man be here, alive when he should be dead? He is an Otherworlder. He has committed the cruel and inhumane crime of taking control of the precious body of our deceased, against the will of Uhyls and the people! He therefore should be appropriately disposed of by the granted power o—
"Not so fast."
أنت تقرأ
Ruin Maketh Me
الخيال (فانتازيا)"Sit on my lap." He commands, sliding the chair back a fraction. My mind tangles into a mess of thoughts and astonishment, "Pardon me?" He pats his knee and looks at me domineeringly, "Sit on my lap." ...
