The Nightscape

A Mother's Duty

His eyes swirled the seven colours as he blinked, looking about him with confusion that soon gave way to relief and happiness. Slowly, movements stiff and clearly painful, he climbed to his feet, each twitch of his limbs sending cracks spider webbing across the temple walls, letting cracks of light beginning to shine through. He looked around, taking in each and every one of the souls who had helped free him, and he smiled. 

"Thank you, my council. Now we can begin." He said with a rusty and hoarse voice that overflowed with happiness. Suddenly, the world itself began to shake as the temple fell apart, turning to dust the second the pieces hit the ground. Around them, the world itself was shifting, grass sprouting from the dust, rivers appearing from nowhere, animals being pulled into the Dayscape as the Nightscape collided with it and became bound. Bit by bit, the Scapes healed, the people scrambling to get out of the way of the appearing flora and fauna. A few of them tried to flicker on instinct, only to find that they could summon the powers but not move anywhere, let alone between the worlds. The rift had been healed and it could not be taken back. 

Lyra felt a tug in her gut, and suddenly she was flying back along the disintegrating marble path, through the healing world, back to the alter where the stone was crumbling and her body was slowly falling. Her soul crashed back into her flesh and she gasped for air, sight blurry as she scrambled to get away from the marble, as though she could make everything go away if she stopped touching it. 

The fighting had stopped; everyone had either realised it was too late, or were too busy trying to get to safety to continue their campaign. Lyra ran from them all, into the forest that was still growing and twisting and living. She ran until her foot got tangled in a root and she fell to the ground, hard, the soil beginning to turn from dust into mud with moisture coming from the abyss. She tried to stand but found that she didn't have the energy to do it, crumpling among the growing vines and allowing them to begin to wrap around her. Air was no longer coming as easily to her, her ribs feeling like iron that weighed on her lungs until she couldn't breath anymore. 

She curled up and sobbed, holding herself close as she gasped for air and shook with adrenaline that had no other output. Lyra held her head in her hands as she tried to process what had just happened, what was currently happening. The boy had called them all his 'council' and said that they could begin, but begin with what? Why was he in there? Why had the remnants of her clan tried to kill her? There were too many questions, but she didn't dare to go back and find people who could answer them. 

Eventually, the panic attack subsided and she leaned against the trunk of the nearest tree, breathing deeply and hoping that the dizziness would pass. Absent mindedly, she lightly scratched an itch on her neck, only for her fingertips to come away bloody. Surprised, she touched the place, shocked at the ring of blood and pain that wrapped in a perfect ring around her throat. As she stood up, looking around for a river or a bit of glass or anything she could use to see her reflection, she noticed that the dirty cuffs of her sleeves were beginning to turn red with blood as well. Panicked, she pulled the cloth away and checked her skin in the dim light under the tree canopy. 

It was like someone had tattooed her as she was on the alter. A thin band of intertwined black, thorny lines that wrapped around her pale wrist, tracing over her pulse. Pin pricks of blood beaded around the ink, the itchiness almost unbearable. 

"What the hell?" She whispered, the quiet sound of her voice almost lost under the insects and birds in the trees around her. With a jolt, she realised that it was quickly growing darker, and that she needed to find somewhere to hide before the beasts of the Nightscape found her. Standing on shaky feet and wiping tears from her cheeks, she began to walk back the way she had come, or at least, she tried to. Lyra hadn't paid any attention to where she was going when she first fled, driven only by the overwhelming need to get away, and now the landscape was so different there was nothing she could see to guide her back.