Perzys Āeterña | Hope Mikaelson

Chapter 3

Rhysaenya was afraid.

She liked being perceived as a hero, as one of them, truly a new member of the family. When Raf and Landon had made their way back to the school, the first thing they learned was that Rhysaenya wanted to help them get rid of the threat that came from Malivore. It filled her with pride; her parents and grandparents would have loved it.

But if there was something Rhysaenya was afraid of, it was pain.

There were many things to fear in this world. Cars were more dangerous than carts— their high speeds could flatten her on the road if she didn't check properly. Giant metal tubes flew with people inside them and could fall. And apparently humans had evolved to destroy each other to unimaginable levels. She was traumatized by what she'd learned about World Wars and attacks that used nuclear bombs and hijacked machines to kill. Back in her day, the most dangerous threat was a Targaryen on a dragon— or in Tarragona's case, a dragon itself. Now, people alone were the threat. Them and their crazy machines.

Those things scared her. As did the dark, because it reminded her of Malivore. Small spaces (despite the pit having been large) because it gave her the sensation of being trapped against her will.

Pain had never been her friend. She hated it. Her father always taught her not to show she was hurting, not to give into fear, so that she might always have the upper hand on an enemy.

These people weren't enemies. They just wanted to help. But all the same, Hope's mind dive was searing into her and she couldn't help but whimper and grimace, just wanting it to end.

"I know, I'm sorry," said Hope sympathetically. "But I'm not getting anything, it's like your mind is blocked. All I see is darkness."

Rhysaenya's face was beaded with sweat, body aching so much that she was growing more and more afraid that she couldn't handle it, that it wasn't worth the pain. "You can keep going," she said weakly, not wanting to chicken out. But she hated it. She was scared she couldn't handle it for much longer. The more they tried, the more memories burst forth, making the room seem darker and smaller and reminding her more and more of Malivore...

"She needs a break," said MG, reaching out to offer her a glass of water.

"No," moaned Rhysaenya, holding her head in her hands. "I can go again. I feel it, that itch to run after Dorian because he has the knife. It has to yield something."

"You're not going to manage anything if you pass out," said MG, insisting that she drink. She relented, taking a sip, though she beckoned Hope to go again.

"Alright," said Hope hesitantly. "One more, but if I don't see anything... we're stopping."

Rhysaenya lifted the collar of her shirt to wipe her face. "Go again. I'll try harder."

She gritted her teeth, letting out a frustrated and muffled groan as Hope planted her hands back on her head. She tried to envision the pit, tried to remember every sensation of torment in her solitude, with the realization that her father was dead and that nothing she did was going to help her find her mother if the creature didn't wish for them to see one another.

"Bīñ," praised Rhȳs, guiding her shoulders and following her movement as she practiced throwing a knife. "Īsȳ, sīmt cōlū āst. Sūmhērca fūgrā." (T: Good. Yes, like that. Beautiful form.)

He kissed the top of her head, smiling when he saw Kaelena nearing. "Mēre tolī jēda? Syt aōha muña naejot ūndegon," he prompted. (T: One more time? For your mother to see.)

She threw the knife, lodging right into the target. Kaelena clapped as Rhȳs pumped his fist proudly. "Rōvēgrior. Sir kesā sagon ready naejot mīsagon aōla. Nyke jorepagon bona tubis gaomas daor māzigon aderī." (T: Excellent. Now you will be ready to defend yourself. I pray that day does not come soon.)