Oblivion, A Timeless Void

Prologue: Hymne des Flammenmeeres

Carmine skies, the tell of lost souls. Dyed a bloodred colour long before the setting of the golden sun, boding a present bathed in regrets and loathing. With the world stumbling in the haze of an overwhelming hatred, the smell of burning flesh invaded her small nostrils.

The lands sung their elegies to the bygone; the winds howled their grief to the world beyond. In the heavens above, light did not shine nor look upon them with its tender kindness, for the martyrdom of the people did not sway those mighty clouds as they sailed on through the endless skies.

The branches of the golden tree withered and burned up into ash, yet no keeper stood by its side through the harsh bombardment. The flames of decimation blazed true in her wisteria eyes, their corrosive green hue blinding for all.

A small child... one that wondered on and on what she'd done to witness their bottomless pit of hell. Had this world not deprived her of enough already? Why was everything burning now?

...Why did this sea of flames chant its hymn in her powerless ears?

A searing pain emanated from her back, bringing her small, round eyes to tears. Why?

Why, why, why, why, why?

Why me? Why was I born? Why do I have to live through this agony?

Then her vision faded to black.

~

Sirens. Their loudness was irritating, their news harrowing. Where the sirens screeched their song of tragedy, the cries of the people always followed. And for a child no older than nine, there was certainly not a sound more terrifying.

The ends of her caramel brown hair had been caught in the flame. Beneath her wisteria eyes, black circles loomed as a reminder of what she'd seen. Of the sanguine skies in her memory, of the destruction and the castigation.

They had been obscured with an emotion akin to resignation, believing with a heavy heart that there was nothing left to fight for. Nothing spurred her to stand up for herself as the serpent-like complaints of a child echoed in the vicinity.

"I saw her! Ashwood snuck matches into the school and set the library on fire!"

She clutched the thin blanket around her tighter. Looking up with tired eyes, she stared that child straight in the eye. That same child who had tormented her for many years of her childhood, the one she had never been able to push back due to his status as the principal's son.

Every adult present turned their gaze towards her. Her eyes were cast downward as whispers rose among the onlookers. Of course, her grandparents did not come to check if she was alive. Even when her school burned to the ground. They only came at the behest of the accusations lined against her.

"That child... she needs to be locked up in an asylum..."

"How could they allow her at the school...?"

She felt her eyes waver as she silently listened to the whispering. No, she had not done a thing. However, with the newly manifested memories resounding in her mind, the child could not move an inch. Her grandfather's voice then boomed in her ears.

"We apologize for her actions...! She is receiving treatment for Schizophrenia."

I am perfectly fine, you senile old man.

The child was taken aback by her own thoughts. She then clicked her tongue, turning to walk away as she pushed their yells after her to the back of her mind.

~

"You... worthless... child!"

His voice echoed off the walls of the basement between each crack of the whip that carved ravines on her small back, overflowing with anger and hatred.

"Do you have any idea how much you cost us?! Answer me, you bastardly child!"

She did not talk – she could not talk. Her lip bled with the anguish of holding back her screams as the whip cracked again and again, over and over until she fainted from the loss of blood.

Please... please kill me already. Have mercy. Relieve me.

The pleas in her heart, extended to the highest of heavens, clouded her thoughts in a cruel veil that shrouded her rationality. They repeated on and on like a mantra, a desperate prayer from a pained soul, yet they went unheard.

Her body lied limp on the ground, her hearing finally free from the agonizing crack of the whip. Her vision was hazy, objects blurring together in the darkness. The only thing she could hear were the aggressive footsteps that marched up the stairs to the door of the basement.

"You insolent, utterly despicable child... had it not been for my daughter, I would have killed you long ago."

The door was then slammed shut, leaving her alone in the imposing darkness. A few tears uncontrollably spilled from her eyes. The sorrow that constricted her heart was unbearable, yet there was naught she could do except lie on the ground helplessly as her mind raged on like angry flames lit over the azure sea.

With the resonant agony of the discrimination, the abuse, the hatred directed at her, the pitying gazes and gossiping whispers... the memories of the sword piercing her throat, of that cold, crimson gaze of the devil that drove it down with vigour.

The memories did not belong to her, that much she was sure of. Why did they plague her mind? What had she done to deserve so much pain?

"Alcestis."

Her head snapped at the honeyed voice that called her name. It was a voice she'd never heard before – a haven in her sea of flames. Who...?

"The owner of those memories..."

She looked around for the source of the voice. Her eyes then fell on a beautiful woman. Her features were soft and loving, her eyes were a bewitching hazel colour. Her hair, extending to her waist in beautiful golden curls, swayed in the vernal winds.

Hold on. Wind?

The child, bearing the name of Alcestis Ashwood, then realized she was no longer bleeding out on the floor of the basement, but was sitting down in a field of flowers. Flowers that beautifully bloomed against the morning sun.

The woman looked upon her with a kind gaze, plucking a forget-me-not from the field of flowers and placing it in the girl's mid-length caramel brown hair.

"That person... is me."