The Ashen Rebellion

25 | A rude awakening

NYSSA'S CONSCIOUSNESS FLOATED BACK into her body like a reluctant spirit returning to its vessel. The pounding headache was her first real sensation, a throbbing pain that seemed to echo through her skull with every heartbeat. It was as if a hammer was rhythmically striking an anvil in her brain, each impact sending jagged bolts of agony through her nerves. Her body felt like it was stitched together with thorns, every muscle protesting as she tried to move.

"You're awake!"

The voice was bright and cheery, yet...familiar. Nyssa squinted, trying to see through the haze that clouded her vision, but the light assaulted her eyes, making her wince and shut them tight.

"The... candle," She croaked, her voice a rasping whisper.

She heard the soft whoosh as the candle was blown out. Slowly, cautiously, she opened her eyes again. The dim lighting was kinder to her senses now. Her eyes adjusted, and she was met with the sight of Finn's face, hovering close. He looked different from the last time she had seen him. His face, once round with genuine happiness, now looked hollow and drawn, a thin scar running from under an eye patch on his right eye.

His smile, forced and strained, lacked the warmth it once held. The boy she remembered seemed to have aged years in the span of a few days.

"Where are we?" She asked, her voice still weak.

"My parents' old house," Finn replied.

The room was small and sparsely furnished. The walls were lined with wooden panels, worn and splintered in places. A threadbare rug covered part of the wooden floor, its colors faded with time. An old wardrobe stood in the corner, its doors slightly ajar, revealing clothes that hadn't been worn in years. The bed she lay on was narrow, with a thin mattress that did little to cushion her aching body.

"Careful," Finn said, gently pressing a hand to her chest to stop her from getting up. "You're still recovering."

Her muscles screamed in protest, and she let herself fall back onto the mattress, her body sinking into its meager support. The room was cool, and she shivered slightly, feeling the chill through her thin clothes.

"How long was I out for?" She eventually asked, breaking the silence.

Finn wiped her forehead with a damp cloth. "Around thirty days..."

"A month?" She yelled, pushing herself up despite the pain. She began to pace the small room, her thoughts overwhelming her. Everyone, everything she cared about flashed through her mind.

"How'd you find me?" She asked, needing to understand.

Finn looked down, his expression somber. "I got separated from the others during the attack on our home. I was looking for survivors when I found you. You were barely alive."

"Did anyone else survive?" She asked, her stomach clenching in anticipation.

Finn shook his head. "Not that I know of."

Nyssa tried to hide her disappointment, but it was a heavy weight in her chest. Finn pushed a bowl of porridge towards her.

"You need to eat. You've gotten skinny."

She looked at the bowl, her appetite nonexistent. "How have you been getting food?"

"I've been sneaking into camps," The ten-year-old answered casually.

"Finn, that's dangerous! You could have died!" She snapped, concern lacing her voice.

"I could have also died of starvation if I didn't get food," He retorted cheekily.

Nyssa didn't know what to say, so she changed the subject. "Where's the bathroom?"

"Second door on the left."

She walked to the bathroom, her steps unsteady. Locking the door behind her, she faced her reflection in the mirror. The sight that greeted her was a stranger. Her green eyes were dull and lifeless, her hair a tangled, knotted mess. Dirt and grime covered her skin, and she had lost so much weight that her ribs jutted out sharply beneath her shirt. She lifted her left pant leg, revealing an ugly bruise in the shape of a demonic dog's teeth, a grim reminder of her recent ordeal.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she let them fall freely. She was ugly, beyond unrecognizable, a shadow of her former self. She hated the reflection staring back at her, the broken girl who had been through so much and was still here, still fighting.

Her tears fell like rain, streaking her dirty face. Her body was a battlefield, every bruise and cut a testament to the horrors she had endured. Her skin, once smooth and unblemished, was now marred with scars and scratches. Her hair, once a source of pride, was now a matted tangle. She couldn't stand the sight of herself, the weak, broken girl who had survived but at what cost?

A knock on the door jolted her from her thoughts.

"Nyssa?" Finn's voice called softly.

She cleared her throat, wiping away the tears, before she let out a him. 

"Can you teach me to spar?"

There was a pause, then he continued, "I was always too young to spar with the others, but I always hid and watched. I think I'd be more useful if I knew how to fight."

Nyssa took a deep breath, steadying herself. She needed to be strong, for both of them. "Sure, kid."

She unlocked the door and stepped out, her resolve hardening. Finn looked up at her with determination in his eyes, and she knew they had a long road ahead of them. But they would face it together, no matter how difficult it got. They were survivors, and they would keep fighting, one step at a time.