5. The Girl
Chapter 5
The Girl
T he girl was growing tired of walking through random doors and finding herself encased in darkness. For what felt like the thousandth time today, the girl turned a knob, only to have found herself surrounded by complete blackness. However, this time, instead of an absence of noise, she heard a distinct yet muted buzzing that sounded like a thousand voices talking at once. The words were indecipherable, but the girl somehow inherently understood what was being said.
Slowly, as the voices continued to speak, small specks of light illuminated all around her. The girl lifted her hands but found that she had none. In fact, she had no body, but was instead an incorporeal form; a simple soul that existed in this vast infinity of black and floating lights. There were thousands upon thousands of lights, all sparkling with the intensity of the sun. The girl was drawn in and completely mesmerized by the beauty surrounding her. Each of the specks radiated a warmth that wrapped around her soul and elicited a feeling akin to love or comfort.
The girl was still, simply watching the lights sparkle and dance. But, as she watched, she saw huge groups of them dim and die out. Some dimmed slowly before becoming fully extinguished; others were bright one minute and gone the next. As each light flickered out, the girl felt an incomparable sadness and pain wash over her soul. It was as if each spark took a piece of her as it dimmed and died. Her soul ached as more of the lights rapidly faded from existence.
She was suddenly overcome with the need to touch them. Maybe, if she could hold them, she could protect the light from dying. To her left she saw a light start to flicker and wane. Not wasting time to think, the girl lunged and floated her soul form over to the waning light. She reached out and brushed her ghostly fingers over it, only for her soul to be sucked into the light.
The feeling was entirely disorienting. She felt as if she were being compressed into the smallest size the universe would allow. Just when the girl felt like she would cease to exist if this feeling continued any longer, she felt a pop and the compression released all at once.
The girl expected to be in another room at Solace, but she found herself floating somewhere above her village. The girl tried to move her body around, but something was anchoring her here to this exact moment and place. She found that she couldn’t turn away and couldn’t leave. The light had brought her here, and now it demanded that she see.
The girl watched, helplessly, as a Fire Mage expelled an enormous wall of fire from his hands, the flames engulfing three houses that stood nearby. The girl heard cries of pain and terror and could smell the acrid stench of burning flesh and wood as the flames consumed the structures faster than should have been possible.
Suddenly, a door to one of the houses opened and a young woman fell onto the grass just outside the entryway. The girl lifted her head to take in her surroundings, and sucked in a pained breath at the macabre sight that greeted her. The woman’s skin was burnt and falling off, and one eye had burst, causing blood and fluid to drain down the side of the woman’s face. The other eye was bloodshot and searching sluggishly for something. The woman’s hair had burned down to her scalp, and her clothes were completely gone. The girl knew everyone in her village, but this woman was burned beyond recognition.
The girl stared in horror at the woman, or what was left of her. At that moment, the Fire Mage looked to his right and noticed the woman crawling on the grass toward where the girl’s incorporeal form was anchored. There was a maniacal grin on his face, his pupils blown, and he quickly made his way toward the woman on the ground .
The girl tried to shout, she tried to help, but she was unable to move from the spot where the light placed her. The woman’s face suddenly shot up and her one eye made contact with the girl’s soul.
“See me. Remember me ,” she said, though her lips never moved.
Then, the Fire Mage was looming overtop of the woman. He raised his hands, and fire encased the woman once more, burning her alive.
The girl tried to scream, but she was ripped from the vision and thrown back into the room with the fading balls of light. She tried to reach back for that light. Maybe if she went back she could do something . Warn the woman, fight the Fire Mage, anything but sit and watch. But as she stretched for the ball of light, it flicked out of existence.
The girl let out a cry as her shadowed fingers passed through empty space. She quickly spun and reached for another orb that was flickering near the one that the girl just touched. As her hand made contact with the new orb, she was met again with the feeling of compression and disorientation before being spat out at another place in her village.
She was in front of different homes this time, but the sounds and smells were the same. Everywhere around her, people— her people—were dying and her village was burning. Again, she could do nothing to stop it. Her soul was anchored to one spot, and she was forced to watch the scene play out.
Unlike last time, she knew the girl in front of her. Layla lay in a heap on the ground, her body wracked with sobs. Under her was Mato—Layla’s husband. His eyes were glassy and unseeing, his white hair a bloodied mess as it stuck to his forehead. Blood and grey brain matter still oozed from the side of his head, near his left ear, where part of his skull was caved in.
Layla’s body shook as her fingers clawed at Mato’s still form, coming away bloody every time she touched his face or head. Her belly, thick with child, pressed against his chest.
“ Please .” Her cry was pained and guttural. “Come back to me. Take me instead! Take me instead.” The girl felt Layla’s sorrow down to her marrow, a tight feeling taking root in her chest as Layla’s cries turned more fevered and less intelligible, until all the girl could hear was Layla’s sounds of despair.
Lost in her pain and grief, Layla was unaware of the soldier approaching from the side of the house. The girl tried to scream at Layla, tried to force her to look, but her voice was silent and her position cemented. The soldier towed a dark-skinned woman, braided beads clicking with every step, with him—she was chained to his belt, her hands pressed to the soldier’s side, a slight gap between his tunic and pants allowing for direct skin contact. He had a slightly manic look about him; his black eyes were wild and his grin was feral. Even without the wild look in his eye, the man would have sent shivers down the girl’s spine. He was lithe but strong, and he walked with the air of a predator. His dirty-blond hair was thick with blood, and it dripped onto his collar and shoulders with every step. He took in the sight of Layla and Mato, inhaling a deep breath through his nose as if scenting the scene.
A Pain Mage . The girl thought.
His eyes rolled in the back of his head as he drew power from Layla’s pain and suffering. The girl attached to the Pain Mage shuddered as the Essence he drew from the anguish coursed through him and emptied into her.
His Vessel .
He opened his eyes and took purposeful steps toward Layla, unsheathing his short sword as he walked. His black tunic, pants, and boots were wet with blood and other matter that the girl didn’t want to identify. The blade of his sword matched the state of his clothing, already the blood from his previous victims congealed along the sharp edge.
Layla, caught in her immense grief, neither heard nor saw the soldier as he approached where she lay prostrate over her husband. The soldier’s approach reminded the girl of a predator stalking its prey—he knew that Layla had no place to run, knew the kill was guaranteed, so he didn’t rush the approach, but reveled in it.
As he reached Layla, he grabbed her roughly by the back of her long hair and yanked her away from Mato’s body. She shrieked in renewed pain, her hands reaching to the back of her head in an attempt to rid the pressure at the base of her skull.
“Shut up, witch bitch,” the soldier growled in Layla’s ear, but the girl heard the words echo throughout the entirety of her being. Layla did not heed his words and continued to scream, whether from the pain of the soldier’s rough handling, or the death of her husband, the girl wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure it mattered.
The soldier dragged Layla by the hair through the blood of her husband, just out of reach of his corpse, his Vessel dutifully trailing behind as he continually channeled his magic into her. The girl could see the Vessel visibly shaking as she absorbed the magic, hatred clear in her eyes, and the girl couldn’t help but feel a pang of kinship with the Vessel.
The soldier palmed the back of Layla’s head and thrust her to the ground. Layla landed, belly down, with an audible smack against the cobblestones that led toward the front of her home. She let out a deeper groan of pain as she rolled to her side, clutching her belly.
“My baby, my baby, my baby . . .” She brokenly whispered the mantra over and over as she folded in on herself in a desperate attempt to protect her unborn child. The soldier reared his foot back and aimed a kick directly at Layla’s spine, his booted foot making her scream in pain.
The soldier’s face radiated savagery as he raised his boot again and again, repeatedly kicking Layla anywhere that he could reach—her back, her face, her belly. The girl gazed at the soldier and felt nothing but utter contempt and pure hate, it coursed hotly through her body, lighting every nerve ending. She committed his face to memory—everything from the slight frown lines on his forehead to his thin nose—he would pay for what he was doing to Layla, the girl would ensure it.
Eventually, Layla’s body went slack, and the girl wasn’t sure if she had given up or the soldier had knocked her unconscious. Unsatisfied with her reaction, the soldier ceased his kicking and stared at Layla’s battered and still body. He let out a growl that didn’t sound quite human and drew from his Vessel, the Essence coursed through the woman attached to the soldier’s side and into the soldier’s outstretched hand. A dark purple, almost black, viscous liquid-like substance pooled in his palm and shot into Layla’s body when he squeezed his hand.
Layla’s body bent nearly in half, her back bowed toward the sky, shoulders and heels pressed to the ground as she opened her mouth in a silent scream. The soldier watched in pure ecstasy as Layla’s body continued to convulse in front of him. Abruptly, he opened his fist and the black liquid retreated into the Vessel, and Layla’s body slumped to the ground.
He stalked toward her and used the toe of his boot to nudge her body. She let out a soft groan as her head lolled from side to side. The soldier lightly pressed the tip of his sword to her chin, lifting her head so she could see his face .
“Open your eyes, Deceiver,” he said in a chillingly calm tone. When Layla didn’t immediately comply, he dug the tip of the sword into the soft skin beneath her chin, just hard enough to draw blood.
“Kill me, please,” Layla’s broken voice begged as tears tracked from the sides of her eyes and down her face. “ Please ,” she begged and tried to nuzzle her chin onto the tip of the sword. The soldier removed the sword, not letting her impale herself before he was ready.
“No need to beg, Deceiver, I will give you what you ask for,” he said. Layla whimpered and her lips wobbled as more tears found their way down her marred and bloody face. “But not until I take everything from you, first.”
Layla’s eyes flew open at his comment. “ No ,” she whispered. “ Please , no!” It was a broken keening sound that came from her and was something the girl would never forget.
The soldier’s evil grin was back as he slowly traced the tip of his sword down her neck and between her breasts as it came to a halting stop at the apex of her belly.
“Leave her alone, let her die with me.” Her shaking hands came to rest protectively over her swollen stomach, trying in vain to protect her unborn child from whatever the soldier had planned.
The soldier clicked his tongue in admonishment.
“I’m sorry, but my orders are to leave none alive.” He didn’t sound sorry, he sounded almost gleeful.
Layla began to struggle against the ground, desperate to get away from the soldier standing over her. In one swift movement, he viciously brought down his boots onto each of her arms. The girl heard the snap of the bones, even over Layla’s screaming. She rolled side to side, trying desperately to find some relief from the pain.
The soldier stood over Layla’s writhing form, straddling her hips and clutching his short sword in both hands. “The more you move, the more it hurts.”
Layla was beyond comprehension at this point and the girl figured that the words meant nothing to her anyway. The soldier prodded her eyes with the tip of his sword.
“Watch. Watch as I take everything from you, just as you took everything from my Master,” he said in a tone laced with hatred.
Layla’s eyes fluttered open and all the girl saw in them was resignation and pure, undiluted hatred. She offered no more words to the soldier, simply tilted her chin in defiance as tears flowed freely down her face.
The soldier moved the tip of his sword reverently across her belly before scoring a deep incision from the bottom of her ribcage to the top of her pelvis. Blood gushed from the wound, coating the cobblestones and creating a river between them. Layla’s scream pierced the air, drowning out all other sounds. Even the crackle of nearby fire and other screams of pain were nothing in comparison to the sound that was wrenched from her body.
The soldier dug his sword deeper, piercing through every layer of muscle, skin, and organ. He wrenched the blade free before tossing it to the ground, just within reach. He knelt on either side of Layla and placed one hand on each side of the deep wound on her belly. The soldier grasped the open sides of the incision and pulled .
The girl thought Layla’s screams before were loud, but they were nothing compared to the new sound exploding from her throat. Layla screamed until her voice broke and she could no longer make any noise. Even still, her mouth was open in pure agony as the soldier reached his hands into her belly and pulled out her unborn child.
The babe was no longer in its protective sack and was covered in blood and fluid. She was small in the soldier’s hands, and Layla looked at her with pure adoration and love even through the immeasurable pain.
The baby didn’t move, didn’t wail. She was lifeless before being removed, which the girl felt was a small blessing. The soldier slapped the baby’s butt, attempting to check for signs of life. When none presented, he tossed the baby’s corpse on top of Layla’s chest. Instantly, Layla’s broken arms came around the body of her lifeless child, cradling her to her breast. She pressed reverent kisses across the baby’s crown, muttering words that were private between mother and child.
The soldier stood over them, apparently content to watch Layla’s slow death take her, showing no mercy and giving her a quick end to her pain.
Layla’s eyes snapped open and focused on the spot where the girl’s soul was cemented. Her lips didn’t move, but the girl heard her voice clearly in her mind.
“ Remember this. Remember us.”
The girl blinked, and Layla’s eyes were closed again, her lips continually muttering silent words and promises to the baby in her arms. In a matter of minutes, Layla’s kisses and words slowed and her arms became slack. The baby dropped to rest fully on Layla’s chest as she took one, then two shuddering last breaths, and was still.
The girl saw the soldier reach for and sheath his short sword before she was whisked away, back to the black room filled with infinite lights. The girl was numb. There were no words to describe the sheer cruelty and brutality that she witnessed from that soldier. The girl searched within herself to find some other emotion to attach to, and felt nothing but utter hatred. It was the hatred of an entire people—her people, coalescing into one feeling inside the girl. It coursed through her, lighting her very soul on fire and causing her blood to run hot.
The girl reached a shaky, shadowed hand to another flickering star, simultaneously dreading what she would see and resolved to see it through.
Time passed in a blur—it felt altogether too long and not long enough for the number of atrocities the girl witnessed. Each flickering star brought her to the moment of death of one of her people. She saw friends and families burned alive, women and girls raped repeatedly before their used and destroyed bodies were put to the sword, men castrated and their bodies placed on pikes in the center of the village. No house was left untouched, no area left unsearched.
The girl watched the systematic and brutal genocide of her people. Mages of all types relished in the destruction and the emotions wrenched from the dying Keepers, using them to fill their Vessels and crystals.
And each vision that the girl saw hardened her heart. Each time one of her people held her stare and reminded her to watch and to remember caused another soft piece of her to die and be replaced with pure malice and promise of retribution.
The person the girl entered the Seeing Room as was no more. In her place stood a woman hardened by grief and hate, the broken pieces of her soul stitched together with a song of despair and revenge.
The girl had seen thousands of deaths, watched thousands of souls flicker and die until only a handful remained in the cavernous black space. As each soul fled this plane, their corresponding life light flickered and died, leaving the space in a darkness that now matched the girl’s soul. She listened for the voices that originally accompanied her in this place, but found that only whispers remained of the original cacophony of sound .
The girl gazed about the space, noticing a few life lights pure and bright in the distance. Only two remained close to her, each beginning to flicker with an intensity that she couldn’t ignore. As she reached for one of the lights, they merged before her eyes and formed one larger light that flickered in time with the pulse of the girl’s heart.
Somewhere deep in the recesses of the person the girl used to be, she knew who those two life lights belonged to. With an iron resolve and a hardened heart, the girl reached out to grasp the final flickering light, knowing without any doubt whose deaths would greet her on the other side.