Devoured Destiny (Completed, but being rewritten and edited.)

Thought Fourteen. - A State of Shock.

"My child." I deeply inhale, whispering to myself. 

Well, there's the reason I keep leaving.  

There's the reason that Neven wants me to stay. 

What sort of God would put this upon someone? 

I find myself deeply reconsidering my faith in any sort of God. This isn't right. I have to have a child with Neven, in order to save thousands of souls. 

Say I do. 

Say I do go through with it, and maybe I learn to love Neven, love our child, but what happens next? Won't we have to wait years before our child would even be old enough to understand the words, key, destiny, souls...? Would it be too late? 

And does Neven really love me, does he really want this? Or is it just to fulfill the destiny that has been laid out for us?

And what about Jones? 

For some reason, I find myself getting closer to him. Breaking through his thick layer of ice, and finding a warm, beating heart, beneath his facade. Sure, he's an asshole eighty percent of the time, but when he is kind, it's almost worth all of it. He doesn't pretend to know everything about me.

Or he just doesn't know everything. 

Maybe that's what intrigues me.

Jones is still trying to get to know me, figure me out. 

Neven knows me, and he acts as if we are lost lovers. 

Even though I have always had a soft spot for romance, it just doesn't feel as legitimate, or as tempting as the alternative. 

I don't remember either of them, and of course I'm willing to figure them both out. But is there even any point? I'm not sure what I feel. 

I am sure that I'm not ready to have any children yet, though. I'm only eighteen! 

I eat souls! 

Surely, that can't be a healthy diet for a baby. 

Putting all of this aside, regaining my ability to actually snap out of my daze, I look up. 

Up at the cave ceiling, of a fairly sized bedroom. I'm sprawled out on a bed, that has a velvet red comforter with a bunch of tiny golden embroideries. There isn't much furniture in here, just the bed and a few chairs, one in each dark corner. Once again, the light is sparse, only a few lit candles that are hung from the walls. 

I welcome the dim lighting, it eases me.

"J-jo-jones?" I weakly mumble. 

I just want someone to hold me. Someone to lay beside me and whisper to me, that everything is going to be okay. I want to be able to imagine myself happy again, not a worry in the world. 

Silence answers me. 

I close my eyes, challenging myself to fall into a deep, devouring sleep. 

It doesn't come. 

Instead, I hear the familiar clinking of chains. 

Sibbul.

"Sibbul?" I lift my neck up a bit, and look around the room. I can't even see where the door is, but the sounds of the chains came from the right of me. She then, slowly,  steps out of the shadows.

Her face so childlike, so innocent. 

Grief strikes me. 

She walks up to the bed where I lay, and puts her tiny hands on top of the bed. Her bright blue eyes look into mine.