52. Astraea #3
The blade draws the first line of blood as it presses harder into her skin.
She looks down as she feels the warmth of it spreading.
Swallowing hard, her eyes lift to meet mine.
Even though chaos surrounds us, it feels like the world slows at that moment.
I can't feel anything. The edges of the world are washed away with tears.
That’s when the heat starts.
Liquid fire fills my veins. It starts in the center of my chest and wraps itself around the center of my body like a lasso of fire.
I look down at the hand wrapped around my wrist pinning me in place.
Rage like none that a six year old should ever harbor fills me.
In the moment, all I can feel is how I want her to let go of the hold.
That desperation continues to intensify, and suddenly, fire begins to burst from the hand she holds tightly in her grip.
It flares and rages like a cannon of dark fire scorching the ground and bubbling her skin.
She screams a piercing wail into the silence as the fire rapidly spreads faster than any I’ve ever seen until eventually everything around us is set ablaze.
My eyes feel heavy in the dream state, but I keep them open as I am lifted from the ground.
My mother’s arms wrap around me. She presses my face to her chest. Blood stains my cheek as she soothes me by running her fingers over the back of my head.
Smoothing the strands of my long dark hair.
I feel so tired. She runs as hard and as fast as she can, trying to get away from the hellish landscape.
She can't hide her emotion any longer, though, and I can see the pain in her blue eyes when I look up to meet them under her hood.
She manages to get us to a particularly thick corpse of trees, but the fire behind us is rapidly drawing closer.
The smoke from the burning woods is making it that much harder for both of us to breathe.
She coughs as she crouches down, resting for only a moment.
She sits me on a downed log, searching the night around us, frantically looking down at her hands.
I know that look. Her magick is depleted.
“I need you to listen to me, Astraea. You’re different.
They think you are a weapon. A key to a world they wish to unlock, but I know your soul as well as I know my own.
You will not become the darkness they wish to create of you.
Always remember who you are. Your fire will always light your path, but remember that shadows are a part of that light.
You cannot have one without the other.” She kisses my forehead, tears streaking across her reddened cheeks.
“I know you don't understand. I’m so sorry, my sweet girl. Divine, please protect her.” Hot tears fill my eyes and clog my nose as I watch her steadily lose her remaining strength.
“Concede to the shadows, only when you are ready to let your fire burn—” My mother’s eyes, pale blue just as mine, burrow into me.
A wrinkle of pain creases her brow as she takes my tiny hand in hers.
“You are everything they wish they could harness. Don’t let them.
Burn as bright as the fires that guide us to Runerth, and when it's time, let them feel the flames.” She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes, and gathers as much strength as she can and lifts me into her arms again.
She lets out a small gasp as the horse comes thundering up.
“Thank the divine,” she breathes as she grabs the reins in one hand and pushes me into the saddle, with a grunt she follows behind.
“Momma, it burns.” My small voice says, but my mother doesn't respond. She only looks behind us, urging the horse swiftly to carry us away from the wailing scream that echoes from where I’ve caught the forest on fire.
The hold she has on me tightens as her head jerks to look behind us.
She slumps forward, my body becoming smaller with the movement as I curl into myself, and she pushes the horse to speed their gallop.
A shadow casts over us, and I try to focus my eyes as I look up.
The clouds split, just like in my dreams, beyond the ash that rains down on us like a deadly veil.
The silhouette of the beast I’ve become more familiar with breaks through the haze.
His dark leathery wings cut through the gray like black blades.
The deep umber and rust coloring is immediately familiar.
The manticore swoops down through the cloud of smoke, coasting through the air right above us.
It banks right, hard, and the horse follows.
It guides us through the dense forest and eases our breathing by dissipating some of the smoke with each downward thrust of its wings.
“I’m so sorry, my love. It was never meant to come to this.
” She says mournfully, her voice brushing the top of my head.
I remember the moment from my dreams. Her hold around my waist becomes looser.
Her grip on me lets up the further we get to where the trees turn to darkness.
Just as we reach the thickest area, the manticore banks again, breaking away from us.
Its roar vibrates through the air as my mother’s hold on me continues to weaken.
I try to twist in her arms, and that's when I see it. I look down at the blade that is protruding from my mother’s side.
A vicious flower of death blooming on the fabric of her dress.
The lasso of heat still burns at my ribs, but it's my heart that hurts the worst as realization dawns on me.
This is the last time I ever saw my mother.
As we reach the tall grasses at the edge of a thicket, she looks down at me with the grief that can only be given when you know this is the final goodbye.
“Concede to the shadows—" She whispers as we both fall.