Mortance: A Miscarriage of Hope

Lily Ⅴ

"Winter is coming," the spider tells me.

"Winter is here," I say back. I can still feel its cold in my bones, even in the afterlife. Everything is cold.

"In a sense," the spider says. "The season is here, but a true and horrible winter is on its way. Or maybe I'm referencing your friend Winter, the white elf who loved your sister. That is her name, yes?"

"Why are you telling me this?" I ask. "Why are you here?"

"I'd tell you if I knew."

"Where's Rose?"

"You left her body back in Espar," the spider says.

"I'm not looking for her body," I say. "This is the afterlife. She should be here."

The spider laughs.

I step towards her and reach for my sister's bow. My hand finds nothing. "What did you do with her bow?" I demand.

"Nothing. It's still in the same river you're in. Do you know where you are?"

"I'm dead. I failed. This is the afterlife," the admission nearly brings forth tears, and I would not have the strength to withhold them if they came.

"Not yet it isn't," the spider says. "Look around you."

Then I see what I couldn't see before. We are in the forest, the burnt part of it where the graves were, the part where the trail began. It is exactly as we left it, exactly as I remember it. The spider stands on one of the mounds of dirt, above one of the bodies. The river runs behind her, as cold and frozen as the one I died in. I stand opposite to her, naked, wet, and freezing.

"Where are we?" I ask. "And where are my clothes?"

"You weren't wearing any. Have you forgotten?" the spider says. Her tone is condescending, strange to hear from a bug. She is right, though. I died naked and freezing.

"Are there no clothes in the afterlife?" I ask. "It's not a warm place."

"Perhaps there are, I never cared to know," the spider tells me. "But we are not in the afterlife."

"Then where are we?"

"I cannot answer that question, for I do not know the answer. Only you can know that."

"How am I not dead?" I ask after a moment of silence.

"This is not where you die," the spider says. "As I said, Winter is coming."

"I heard you the first time," I tell her. "Do you have anything useful to offer me, insect?"

"Arachnid," she corrects me.

"And?" I ask, annoyed.

"Stop your quest," the spider says. "You will gain nothing."

"I will gain justice for my sister," I tell the spider. "Stop lying."

"I am not-" the spider suddenly stops and stands attentively. "Winter is here."

The real world was even colder than my dream. It was cold and dark, like a night with no stars or moons. So this is the afterlife, I thought. It was total darkness, cold and unfeeling. There was a dull pain in my leg, but otherwise I was numb. The afterlife was pure darkness. There was no sound, no light, no feeling... there was always some grand land that souls went to after death in the stories. I knew there was little truth to most religious tales, but I'd hoped for at least something after I died. Brave knights of Sacreon went to the Land Beyond to feast forever when they fell in battle. Elves were supposed to become a part of Elsinct's voice after they died. I saw none of that. There was only darkness. A dull, unfeeling darkness.