Shattered Legacies: Book 1, Holo Change

💠Chapter 11: A breaking point💠

Here she was once again, this time sitting upon the checker pattern path that stretched out over the emptiness. Like a bridge from the forest to the tower she could now better make out. The familiarity she was starting to find within the holo open density of nothingness singing to her with what felt nearly like a breeze. Causing her skin to prickle with goosebumps as she breathed slowly, head an empty storm that kept her grounded and allowed each breath she took to crystalize against the song. She could hear the voice, however, she couldn't bring herself to move. Instead, simply sitting in place with her legs dangling over the ledge, hands on her lap as she stared. Eyes searching deep into the void, like a silent plea, or more accurately, a scream. Desperation soaking through each fiber of her being as though it were her voice. Hoping to see something, anything, within the black. Her hands curled tighter until they shook. Fighting against the voice that was singing to her, and the raging whirlpool that was holding her back. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't move.

Her nose and eyes started to sting, and soon, she could feel the hot water rolling down her face. Letting go of the rope that kept her from allowing her emotions to flow. And as she did, the burning within her arms stationed itself someplace else. Lowering, and creating a tingling sensation around her wrists that hardened by the tiny frightened sob. Putting a pressure upon her skin. Something started to steam from her chest, like ribbons of deep magenta velvet in a breeze, they seeped through her skin and wafted up. Dancing with two larger streams, one on each side, that brushed and tickled her skin as she sobbed. They ached. Hurting not from the substance, but from what made it pour. What built the shackles forming around her. She was scared. She was miserable. She was confused. Her arms wrapped around herself holding her forearms. Gritting her teeth as huffed for air and shook, feeling the urge to curl up and just lay here, regardless of what the calling of her siren was saying.

Why was she here? Why couldn't she remember anything before the Château? What was she?

All she wanted was to understand. She just wanted to know what was going on. Why she had no soul. Why everyone seemed to be perfectly fine even though they too were souless.
But more than anything, she wanted it to not be true.
She knew what being souless meant. It meant you weren't alive. It meant you couldn't be alive. You weren't you. And that was terrifying. And she didn't know why it scared her.
Your soul was more than just the thing that tied your spirit to your body. It was a part of you. Built throughout the years you lived, growing as you did, from your experiences and who you were. It was you. It was a major piece of you. Your personality, your power, your compasity to feel, your ability to judge right from wrong based on your own morality. The ventricles grew from the time you were a baby and got stronger as you aged, and then got weaker as you were nearing the end of your life naturally. So.. it was like someone had taken a piece of her. Stripped away who she was, her entire sense of self, and she couldn't even remember who she was before. She didn't know how she knew any of this either. This knowledge of how souls worked wasn't in the book, and it wasn't told to her by doctor Jefferson either.

She didn't know how she knew this. She didn't know what she was, if she was alive or dead. She didn't know if her name was really "Royanna". All she knew, was that it hurt. That she wanted to rip her hair out and scream until something bled.
She wanted someone, but she didn't understand what the word begging her to cry it out meant.

She couldn't take this. "What am I..?!" Enclosed in her shaky misery the girl's cry broke out, echoing through the emptiness with the ring of shattering glass. Causing the air to go dead. The song of a voice disappearing from her senses as she held her head between her hands nearing the climax of her stress. Her face soaked from tears, her wrists feeling heavy, and her chest going cold. The ribbons flowing beginning to fade away. She hated this. She felt like she was at her wits end. Like she was being strangled, too weak to fight off the hands that violated her sense of hope. Of self. She didn't know what to think about anything happening. It all made her confused and sick. Causing her to fold into herself. Bringing her knees up to her chest and holding them as her eyes begged the void still. Not even her guiding voice was with her now.