In a realm where Hellfire rains down from the sky as a means of intimidation, punishment and control, Deleria is the ripple of change in the waters of time. After losing everyone she ever had the opportunity to love to the hellfire, she embarks on a...
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The long hours after my rescue - or capture - I wasn't entirely sure, was probably the most peaceful rest I had gotten in years. I had no dreams while I slept, no nightmares, no visions, no screaming, no death. Nothing... and nothing had never felt so good. I had no idea how long I actually slept for. Time felt like it didn't even exist in these moments as I faded in and out of consciousness.
"I wish the elders had come with us," a soft, high pitched voice muttered somewhere in the darkness. I didn't recognize her voice, but it was filled with concern and compassion. "My gifts aren't as strong as theirs. I hate watching her go on like this, but I can only keep her comfortable right now." The voice sounded defeated, and almost just as exhausted as I felt.
"Comfort is a pretty decent improvement over death," another voice snickered lightly. The warrior. "It's her own fault for taking on those scouts like a primate. Swinging from those trees with a rock as her only weapon? Come on, she had a death wish." I mean, she was right about that, I absolutely had a death wish. A death wish that was apparently denied by the Gods. How could they even do that? I seethed. The confusion and anger made my head hurt as I gripped onto the voices trying to keep myself aware of what was happening around me.
"Those soldiers burned everything and everyone in Obiscon, and yet she lives. They had to have discovered The Road to Sitara. Why else would they attack such a small village of Plainfolk with such force? If she survived that type of wrath, it's nothing short of a gift from the Mother Moon herself. It's a miracle, and it has to be for a reason." The Mother Moon! Was that who had kissed my forehead and sent me back? The soft moonlight glow that lit up the dark nothingness would make sense if that was the case, but there was no way I was greeted in death by The Great Mother herself. To even consider that felt wrong.
"Don't get ahead of yourself Bryar, she still has to survive those skull fractures and that wicked infection. That's a lot, even for the elders and it would require her to fight to be here. I don't want you to get attached again just for her not to pull through." Her voice felt like chips of ice hitting my skin. I let out a low groan as my head began to ache and throb, pain tightening the muscles around my eyes with every pulse.
"It's okay," Bryar's voice cooed as she placed a light hand to my temple. Her touch tingled and a tiny shiver rippled through me. "You're safe with us, and we are going to get you help." Soft light danced around the backs of eyelids as sleep began to relax my muscles. The pain began fading into a distant memory as her soft fingertips touched my cheek, the peaceful nothingness washing over me once more.
I wasn't sure exactly how much time had passed before the voices began again. There were many mumbling sounds just quiet enough that I couldn't hear exactly what was being said. I tried to open my eyes, but my eyelids were so heavy they felt like they might be glued shut. My head still throbbed each time I felt myself take a breath, my eyes squeezing slightly in a weak wince.
"Why have you brought her here," a deep voice rumbled with slow disappointment. The harmony of whispers and mumbling hushed as the intensity of the voice pricked my skin.
