Deborah of the Forsaken

To Hell and Beyond

I'm slipping away fast.

The Mother Supreme keeps vigil by my bedside, holding my hand when the pain becomes unbearable, praying when my lungs collapse again and the fever resumes in ernest, making me scalding hot to the touch.

The power inside me struggles against the decay of my body, ensuring my survival a lot longer than I've a right to.

We're so close, that other, seductive voice murmurs in my ear sweetly. There is much to do, yet. Our Silas is almost here.

I fight to keep my eyes open, but eventually let them shut, welcoming sleep and giving in to the pure exhaustion my body can't combat any longer.

"That's it, child," the Mother Supreme cooes, stroking my hair back from my sweat slick face, "rest until he arrives. I'll make sure he knows where you are. I won't leave your side."

Thank God this time around no nightmares plague my sleep. My waking hours are the worst. I wish I could stop reliving the cell and what had been done to me there. I wish I had waited for Silas before running off to face an unknown threat alone. I wish to forget the scars my mind bears from wounds that can't be found on my skin.

Loud whispers in the hallway outside my door wake me. A heavy knock sounds, then two. I try to choke out the words to call them in, but they get stuck in my parched throat and instead brings on a coughing fit.

The Mother Supreme rises gracefully from her seat by my bed, striding across the stone floor to the door, yanking it open in irritation when a fourth knock comes.

She listens intently for a few seconds as the messenger speaks in hushed tones. "Someone is waiting to see you. He says you're expecting him?" she asks, opening the door further and stepping aside.

Apparently my visitor doesn't want to wait for my reply. The heavy boots thump against the floor as he walks in, causing a broken sob to bubble up in my chest. I had never before experienced relief so all consuming just by laying eyes on another human being.

Silas's entire body is rigid, his fists balled tightly at his sides. I can't think of a single instance where I'd seen him so wound up, his beautiful green eyes ablaze with emotions flaring through them in quick succession. Emotions he could not, or would not hide from me in their intensity.

Relief. Distress. Sorrow. Determination. Rage.

Recollection barrels into me, memories of what he used to look like. When my power had pulled me back to our old Second Reality, I had not fully taken in the man stood before me, but I did so now, marvelling at the changes I could so easily detect about his person.

He had been a young man when I'd been taken, too young to have fully grown into the broad bone structure he possesses. The years since then have made him visibly more hardened for combat, his back wider, arms and legs thickly muscled. His features, too, have evolved ever so slightly from boyishly charming, to striking in their pure masculinity.

I'm sure that he had even grown slightly taller, dominating the room in an instant. His very presence envelops me in a sense of ultimate safety, the first sort of fleeting peace I experience in days.

You found me, I speak into his mind, knowing I no longer have use of my voice. God, I'm so glad to see you.

Silas kneels at the side of the bed and takes my hand, placing it tenderly between both of his. He's trembling, unable to hide how affected he is by our second reunion and my sickly appearance.

"I must admit, I left the second you disappeared again. Now I'm glad I had done so," he replies aloud, reaching forward with his free hand and resting it against my forehead. "How long have you been like this?"