Risen: Darklight

Memories' Pain

Uhhhh, . . like what the hell.  Why was my head pounding?  And why did I feel like a sack of hammered monkey shit?

I blinked and my vision slowly cleared.  As it did, I could see the outlines of a face appear before me.

"Abby?"  I croaked, my voice sounding shredded and alien in my own ears.  Had my reckless attempt to save my undead existence fail?  Had I finally been released to join my sweet Abby on the other side, in that beautiful garden where only the truly passed on could experience?

"Abby, is that you, sweetheart?"  I asked, my voice not improving with additional usage.  And I heard a giggle in reply.

Blinking furiously, I tried to focus my eyes.  And felt my heart sink with disappointment to find myself looking into the pixie face of an all too living young girl.

"Morning, papa."  She said, her expression immediately brightening at seeing my attention on her.  "You must be still dreaming if you're saying such funny things."

"Funny, . . .things?"  I stammered, trying hard to cudgel my brain into action.  Who the hell was this little girl?  And what was she doing here, in Legion's storage pod??  The girl, who couldn't be more than four or five, giggled again before becoming serious.

"Oh, I almost forgot.  Mama says breakfast is ready and wants you to come and eat."

What?  Breakfast?  Wait, . . Mama?  Daughter?

I opened my mouth to ask this little thing who she was, and what was happening.  But she bounded away with another giggle, leaving me to flop back onto the hard surface beneath me and stare at the ceiling above, head still pounding and confusion swirling through my mind.  But my head wasn't pounding so bad that I didn't notice the strange and colorful designs on that ceiling, which curved dome-like over me instead of flat, like it should've been. 

A design created by no human hand.

"I don't think I'm in the storage pod."  I hoarsely whispered to myself.  With confusion clouding my mind even further, I tore my eyes off the alien geometry on the ceiling and laboriously rolled off the surface.  A quick glance back revealed what I had been laying on: some sort of wooden platform barely covered by a mat of fibrous material.  Loose and tumbled coverings were thrown haphazardly over it, making me wonder if it was supposed to be a bed.

Regardless of what the platform was supposed to be, it was tall enough that sitting on the edge my feet barely reached the floor.  Which made me frown.  It didn't look that big.  My frown only grew when I looked at my feet.  What the hell was wrong with them?  Why did they, . . .?

The high-pitched whine of jet turbines screaming by overhead interrupted my thought process and claimed my attention.  Shooting to my feet, I quickly strode to what appeared to be a door out to a balcony, covered with a thin curtain.  Pushing the curtain aside, I stepped out onto the balcony and looked up into a purplish-blue sky, bright with the light from a sun that burned blue-white instead of the familiar golden yellow.

But if those turbines belonged to some sort of aircraft, they had already passed by.  The sky was empty outside of a few scudding clouds.  Sighing, I let my gaze drop.  And found my heart leaping into my throat from what they fell on.

It was a city of trees.  Giant trees like skyscrapers as they clawed into the sky with limbs that looked like they were hundreds of metres in diameter, each branch heavily festooned with dark blue and purple leaves.  With a trunk that had to be five hundred metres in diameter itself, the branches spanned a good two kilometres at the bottom and shrinking only slightly as they rounded towards the tree's crown.  Visible between the leaves and smaller branches were buildings, sitting on or in the wood of the branch, appearing to be grown rather than built there.