SUBMIT

33

"Sin. Sin. Sin. A sinner, she is, and a sinner she will be. Do not save the sinner. Do not kill the sinner. Let the sinner rot."

A chant, low and raspy, echoed through the pulsating black environment.

"Oh, but she is a child, please set her free!"

A cry, a plea of hope, shouted weakly in response.

"I am a sinner and a child who is weak of heart. Please leave me here where I can only yearn for death."

A whisper. A breath. A sigh of resignation.

Komote could not see where she was going because the sight was nothing. But it was something, she knew, because in brief flashes of light, she could see the wisps. She could see the dark clouds that lay upon her eyes and the faint outline of a being that cowered within. Komote could not see, but her ears were enough; she dared not to leave until she cleansed the toxin that she assisted in depositing inside the vessel of the masks.

The dark plumes that enveloped her swirled as she roamed. They attached themselves to her hinoki wooden face, dying her pure white painted face with their tainted hands. They whispered in her ears, frowned upon her, and teased her mercilessly. They struck her when she didn't respond, pulled her back when she looked away and pushed her when her lips twitched.

Komote internally frowned.

Did her Master find herself being relentlessly tortured here? Did she feel their malicious actions and words constantly in the depths of her mind and the bowels of her stomach? Did she ache as the darkness curled in and snapped at her nerves, pulling at her heart when they taunted and ridiculed her into nothing but dust?

"Oh sinner, you are lovely," The lazy, deep rasp purred. "You were of light, you were of purity, you were the Heavens! But it was temptation that brought you here to me, to the darkness, to Eternal Damnation!"

"Let them ascend! Let them be forgiven! Heaven begs for their child to return!"

There was no response from the whisperer. Just a tired sigh, a weak one that shuddered with little hope.

A flash of merciful light flashed before Komote, and the mask saw a figure kneeling not far from where she hovered. As swiftly as she could, the mask floated over. But ropes, thick cords of sticky and strong tar, wrapped around her. They lashed at her, nicked the white paint off of her and stained the surface of her face darker. They screamed, yelled at her to stop, and covered her mouth before she could even think of calling out to the figure before them. Their fingers crawled over every inch of her body, pulling her back and hindering her, but she refused to yield to their tugs.

Jagged light shot down from above, slashing the grasp the dark hands had on her. The venomous gloom dispersed at the touch with a screech. They cursed Komote's name, hissing at her with the promise to bring thousands of curses and slashes upon her. The mask of the young woman ignored their cries of vengeance as she rushed forward, eyes shifting every which was as she searched about. She hoped for the brief lights to flare yet again, to light her path, but she knew that the thickened cloud of darkness wouldn't permit such a thing to enter so easily.

Komote tried to create a path for herself, weaving through what she could as best as she could. She took advantage of the many yells that escaped the raspy voice that demanded for sin to be spoken, to let it fester and form. The mask of the young woman followed the hollering of the chanter, murmuring to herself of her mission, "Cleanse the Master. Cleanse my Master. Cleanse what ails her."

"Cleanse the Master?" The thick plumes questionably mocked. "You will do it? You, who cannot even go against her own brothers and sisters? You, who disappointed her creator? You, who disgusted him?"