The TwiceBorn

She Overshadows The Moon

"There is strong shadow where there is much light."--Goethe

She was losing her mind.

Islinn paused as she gathered wood for a fire. She'd thought that many times before. Been deathly afraid it would happen and had prayed fervently each time the thought had appeared. She'd believed prayers could keep madness at bay.

The thought had always sailed in on a waft of panicky feelings and an overwhelming disconnection between her and everything around her but this time was different.

It had slowly wrapped itself around her like a spider spinning a web and the graying of everything was a comfort as it slipped and slid about her bones and whispered in her ear of things nonsensical which had never mattered anyway.

The wood she'd gathered slipped from her arms unnoticed as she held her hands out in front of her and studied them. Cuts and scrapes adorned and she saw the nail on her middle finger was peeled half away. She didn't remember it happening or the pain that had surely followed. Because everything was now pain, just in varying degrees. There had been a time...once...when there wasn't but when she tried to think about it, it caused a different pain. Deeper. Not just on the surface.

Like the storytellers she'd heard when she was younger.

Once upon a time...

And it had truly only been once. And now it was gone.

"Islinn?"

Gre's soft voice caused her to jump. She watched him as he took a step towards her then stopped.

"I dropped the wood." She stated and looked blankly down at the scattered kindling.

"I'll help you pick it up." He said gently as he leaned over and began to gather the scattered branches. Islinn bent down as well and methodically worked, her face expressionless. Gre was nothing but a testimony to her madness. He crept, and tip-toed around her and spoke barely above a whisper as though she might start screaming and ripping her hair out if he raised his voice.

She could feel his sideways glances as he helped her but she ignored him. He was useless. The wood she held in her hands had more purpose than Gre.

"Islinn..." He started.

"Don't. Just...don't."

She quickly cut him off. The only words he was capable of lately were "are you all right?" and if he had to ask, then it was nothing but wasted time when it came to an answer.

"Don't what?" He asked. He straightened up and frowned, perplexed.

"Just give me the wood. Don't ask me if I'm all right."