Beneath The Surface

Act 25 - Who else could she possibly miss?

Normal text
Thinking
Onomatopoeia

Astaroth's POV
Crack. Pop. Sizzle.

The foreboding crackle of fire startled Astaroth awake. Only to be hit with a faceful of black smoke. The smell of ashes and burning wood made her cough uncontrollably. With eyes watering from the stinging smog, she quickly scanned her surroundings. It was dark, save for the vertical gap of blue light in front of her. A very familiar scene.

Blue light?

The accursed memory of that blazing night came to mind. She was also trapped in a stuffy and cramp place like this, with only a small gap to peek out of. Her pupils constricted as her breathing hitched. Unlike last time, she instantly burst out of the bloody cabinet without a second thought.

"SISTER!"

Astaroth was well aware that this was probably another nightmare. It's impossible for her goddess to come back from hell. It's just her delusional mind hallucinating everything. It's replaying the same sequence of trauma to torture her with the regret of being selfish to a fault. However, despite all these, Astaroth couldn't help but fall for this cruel illusion. Because deep down, she also secretly hoped that this same event would happen again. So that she has the chance to right her wrongs. Just once. She only needed time to rewind itself back to this very moment. If it's too much to hope for a different outcome other than a ghastly one for her sister, then at least allow her to change her decision. Let her dream of a reality where she wasn't so self-centred. Might be a little sick and depraved but that's all she could hope for from this agonising world. Even if it's just wishful thinking, at least let her enjoy the impossible future where she actually came out to save her sister.

But what greeted her was the same bloody scene of her goddess lying motionlessly on the floor. Fate did not change whatsoever. She was still too late to make a difference. Because her mistake has lasting, permanent effects. And nothing was going to change the inevitable outcome. Not even hallucinations. Aside from the ghostly-blue flames crackling in the background, swallowing the building inch by inch, the place was eerily quiet. Not a single living soul could be seen. The orphanage was completely deserted. Ominous long shadows flickered on the walls. And lying at the centre of this blazing hell was her sister. A pool of crimson-red blood gathered beneath her.

"SISTER!"

She scrambled forward and knelt down, cradling the weakened goddess in her arms.

"No, no, no..." she muttered deliriously while madly shaking the corpse, "please don't do this to me... Please..."

Even with the scorching temperature of the surrounding hellfire, her sister's limp body was still shockingly cold. Which only made Astaroth panic even more. She hates the fucking cold! Nothing good ever comes out of it!

While carding her tousled hair, Astaroth was apologising profusely in a somewhat hysterical manner, "Sorry... I... I didn't mean to... I didn't mean to betray you... I will change! I won't be selfish anymore! I will protect you! No one's going to bully us ever again. I will make sure of it! So please... open your eyes..."

She was hugging her sister as tightly as she could in an attempt to protect her from the chill, but the hope in her eyes was undeniably dimming by the second. She didn't expect her goddess to forgive a heretic. Her sister had done everything to protect her. And what did she do in return? Throw her behind to save her own skin. Who would want their last sight to be a remorseless backstabber? If her sister's life wasn't hanging by a thin thread, she'd likely strangle Astaroth herself.

Squeezing the still hand, she tried again, now full-on begging, "Sister... please... I'm scared..."

This time, she felt the girl stir lightly in her arms. Her lashes trembled before her eyes fluttered open, revealing a pair of beautiful blood-red irises. Immense relief washed over Astaroth's regretful heart as she tried to cover up the disturbing wound on her sister's belly.