THAT ILLUSION || Chasing the call of the chasm.
Earth is haunted, and they have come to save the earthlings before it's too late.
The Narngon school of magic is the only source of remedy for this silently perishing world. The trio of infamous queens...
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━─━─━━─━「₪」━━─━─━─━ ..ESPIAL..
(noun) The act of detecting or catching sight of something. ━─━─━━─━「₪」━━─━─━─━
"Am I supposed to call he- Nah! Ahem! Call the dem-."
Saints and sages may I be strong, his mincing mind messed his will and wants. He exhaled his tumults and cleared his grumpy throat itching with concealed words. But it wasn't convincing.
"Argh! Should I be the one to do this?"
His strutting voice shrieked for his tensed senses. He kneaded his temples while wetting his lips to gulp down his apparent unevenness. His clamouring lids and dilated iris told his turmoil.
Galene noded to Aaron, hurling his residual courage into the lurking abyss. He looked at her with his panic perching pale stares akin to the rodents caught in the cage to be insinuated with uncertain fluids. Maybe they have a chance to live at the jingles of letdowns. But here, be it victory or a fall, the fate was uncertain, and he wasn't foolish enough to believe in rare chances.
Skimming through his odds, Mordana held his clammy wrist, seeping her vigour. He lifted his eyes, oozing the perceptible strains.
"We can do this, Aaron." Her resuscitating ravens ignited a new ray of hope. With a whip of sharp breath, he spoke.
"Arva won't you come in? See everyone are here!" Before he could hush and recoup, she entered the water walled room.
Adorned in the pale, knee-length frock that caressed her petite frame, she walked towards them. The pleated lacey frills exposed the gauze dressing that was done to mend her wounds. Some specks of blood and morning dust were caught between their knotted pores.
Her weak stature took slow and careful steps towards them, cautious enough to not disturb the dire specks of dust. The serpiginous shimmers that surrounded the earthly elements hurriedly crept near her shadow wafting on the floors. Their vigorous doodling earned her infantile smile.
With her sweet smile emerged the whiffs of dews and honey, mounting a refreshing stroke on the lamenting faces. Some tender white gushy curls massive as stray clouds and fragile as flakes of snow fenced the walls. With time, they settled in the floors that had been frozen with emptiness, warning the feet resting on them of the impending pitfall.
Amidst the solid silence, the grasses and bushes grew upon the floors without cracking nor piercing anything. Strange were they to every eye who saw them. Strangest was the black pigment that shrouded everything akin to the portrait painted at a new dawn.
Words were bereft of their rhythms, letting the tides of silence prevail. Yet again she smiled. Perhaps she could guess everything between the grains of stillness.
