Spurned Queen

Chapter 59: Loss

Lexi

Darkness.

There was so much darkness, thick and palpable. It was so thick it could be touched. So palpable it could be tasted.

But it wasn't oppressive. Oh no. In fact, it was the kind of darkness which felt like... an embrace. Like a soft caress. It felt like a lullaby, one that promised peace as long as you remained in it. It incurred a sense of quiet. A sense of calm. It was the eye of the storm. I knew that something was coming, and that I would eventually have to come out and meet it, but not yet.

Please, not yet.

I didn't know what was wrong yet. I didn't want to know. The little pinprick of light at the end of the tunnel promised a world of pain and misery and regret. I didn't want to see it; I didn't want to know. Something horrible had happened, but as long as I floated here in this darkness, I would never know what it was. I could avoid the heartbreak altogether. I didn't want to find out anything. I found bliss in my ignorance.

Somehow, I didn't know who or even what I was. I didn't know what I had done. I didn't know what had been done to me. But somehow, I knew that I was tired.

Tired of wishing, of longing for things, of begging; tired of responsibility, of the weight of the things going on around me; tired of lying and hiding, of juggling lies and truth. I was simply exhausted.

I didn't want to return to whatever life I had before this dark. It was all so dull and blurry and so sad.

Was it really worth it to go back?

***

Sound trickled through the darkness. It began as a dull hum, until it grew clearer into something I could understand. The hum took shape and rhythm. It wasn't an invasion of my peace; on the contrary. It was a sweet, remembered touch of wind, soft enough that it lulled me into a deeper sense of familiar warmth.

"...Float like a feather on high,
Let go of care and slumber deep,
With a rumble and a sigh.

Dream of warmth, of tender care,
Of the wind in grooves of poplars,
Rise and touch the silver moon
Or dream among the stars.

Tell me what the river says
When it laughs over the rocks
Bring me the rose that Persephone
Has woven among her locks.

Sleep deeply, my love, I am here
Sleep till up comes the sun
Sleep till daybreak calls your name
O my sweet, my treasured one!"

At least, that's what it sounded like. I didn't understand half of it, but then I didn't have to. I was being told to go to sleep by a soft voice. I couldn't help but oblige.

The voice came again, singing the same song. Once again, I listened. With nothing in my world but endless black, I soon fell in love with that song. I found myself listening for it. Nothing but that song ever filtered down to me.

I let it wrap around me. I let it hold me and rock me gently. I wanted to touch the moon or catch a drifting feather. I wanted to know what a poplar was. I wanted to know what the water was saying. I didn't know who Persephone was, but I didn't mind just listening.

I gradually became aware of the strange cool on my hand. I felt the need to investigate what it was.

That was when I noticed that the little light had gotten brighter. It beckoned to me, but I knew it was a bad thing. I knew that once I touched it, I would be accosted by all the problems I was hiding from.