Lacuna

Prologue: Why did you try?

Is it cold?
Is it dark?
I can't tell.
I'm in a state of rest,
Undisturbed.
I know I'm in a situation I'm not supposed to be in.
Snarling.
Why do I hear snarling?
I open my eyes.
My hearing is stuffy, but it's starting to clear up.
There's a crack.
Rubble and debris fall above me.
Everything sounds louder, and is getting louder every second.
Then, something starts ringing.
Louder and louder; a screeching, ear-piercing noise rises above every other sound.
It fades, and then rises again. And there are even more faded screams.
I'm sitting straight up.
My face is going pale and my heart is beating faster.
More rubble.
More debris.
I throw my legs off my bed and a quill from around my ankle flies off.
The feather skims the ground and glides toward my door.
It stops.
More uprising screams.
Then cracking.
Then silence.
The silence is deafening.
...
I hate the silence.
The blood rushing through my ears could be heard from miles away.
Why are you scared? They would ask.
There is no correct reply.
That's why everything happened at once, isn't it?

I scream and the roof to my room splits open, falling right atop the quill. I cover my mouth and inch back towards the far corner of my room.
There are no doors.
I'm too scared to move, frozen with fear in my own nightmare.
Am I crying?
Is crying allowed? They speak in imperative tones.
I made up my mind.
But is your mind what you want to follow?
I run to the damaged roof as fast as I can.
More screaming.
It's that same scream again.
Over and over.
Like a repeated process.
A banshee claiming the first death as its own.
A banshee or a Siren?

Bran.
Branwen.
I climb.
Left foot, right hand. Right foot, left hand.
Is this a game to you?
I slip.
I get back up.
Why are you even attempting?
I don't have any protection, but I'm fine with running barefoot.
What'd they ever do for you?

Branwen.
The name only pushes me forward.
Pounding- running- fire- snarling.
Branwen.
Pounding- running- fire- snarling.
Pounding- tripping- fire- screaming.
Cryptic darkness follows me.
Throbbing- clawing- fire- shrieking.
Do you even know what you're doing?
A cry for your mother. Your father. A sibling.
A cry that blocks everything else out.
Why are you trying?
A safe house in the apocalypse.
Why do you care?
A beacon in the night.
Why do you need them?
Take it away, you take me away.
Why are they worth it?
The name calls out to me.
Branwen.

But I can't make it.