Tainted Wings

Chapter Eight

There was a brush of something across her cheek. Hekate tried reached up to flick whatever it was away, but as she tried to lift her arm she found it was trapped. Something tight was holding her wrist. The grip only tightened as she attempted to struggle. Her chest began to burn as whatever it was continued to brush along her face and neck.

She realized her eyes were sealed shut, not allowing her to see what was touching her. As she tried to gasp for air, she realized something was covering her mouth - or had taken her mouth away. She could no longer feel her lips or her eyes. It was as if they had never existed in the first place. As the feelings of isolation and entrapment swallowed her, Hekate began to panic.

Her restrained arm was lifted into the air and she felt a cold iron that was placed in her hand. Forcefully, she began to fight through the layer of skin. She pulled so hard, the skin began to rip away, peeling away the blockage, but covering her vision with red. The newly ripped skin dangled over her cheeks, causing blood to drip down her face and over her eyes. Her blurred vision only caused her panic to increase.

Fighting, she repeated this gruesome process with her mouth. A loud scream erupted as she pulled and ripped away the skin that had grown over her lips. The pain was enough to almost make her pass out. The taste of copper filled her mouth as she attempted to take a deep breath. Each one felt like it would drown her. Hekate spit, attempting to rid herself of the nauseating flavor.

Her vision began to clear as she blinked away the rivulets of blood. Her eyes glanced up, realizing the cold iron was a sword held firm in her hand and ready to strike. There was nothing holding onto her wrist, but she still felt something holding her nonetheless. Taking a deep breath, she moved her eyes down to see what was on the ground.

At her feet was a person. Someone was kneeling in front of her, hands bound behind their back. Although she couldn't hear it before, now she could hear the person whimpering. Their shoulders shook underneath the black sweatshirt, the hood pulled over to cover their head. Hekate tried to pull her arm away from the sword, but it wouldn't budge.

"Move!" she rasped in an attempt to scream.

The figure kneeling before her froze, only to tilt her head to the side. On the ground in front of her was her best friend. Marcia. Her black curls were matted onto her forehead from sweat, and tears continued to fall down her cheeks. She only shook her head before looking down again, waiting.

"Move!" Hekate tried to yell again.

This time, the figure looked up with another face. Her face. Hekate met her own eyes in horror. The face matching her own was bruised, with cuts lining her cheeks and neck. Hekate attempted to jerk the sword again to no avail.

Behind her, lips brushed her ear. "Death is a gift."

As soon as it finished the words, Hekate's arm fell. Two things happened. The head rolled away. And black wings sprouted from the body's back.

Hekate jerked forward, her body covered in sweat. The brand on her chest burned as she blinked furiously attempting to see her surroundings. She was in her bed with Moro at the foot of it, asleep.

Her hand reached up subconsciously touch the brand that continued to burn into her chest. The indention was deeper now. She could easily feel the shape of the symbol left by Death. In an attempt to calm herself, Hekate took a deep breath, only releasing it after a few seconds had passed.

The alarm on the nightstand next to the bed began to beep causing Moro to stir. As she opened her eyes, she carefully took in the energy surrounding Hekate. She quickly stood and looked over the room, attempting to find whatever had Hekate on alert.