Soul Lines (Completed)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Five
Elle's POV

It was cold in the cell made of stone. 

I'd always thought Hell was engulfed with flames. A place where anger and rage ran rampant, where sinners felt uncontrollable pain and wished death upon themselves over and over, deserved the connotation that came with unbearable heat.

I didn't think it was hot in Hell anymore. A cold sinner's sentence where those who did wrong lived in eternal silence, emotionless to their surroundings. That's what Hell had to be like. Emotions are the core of human functionality. Without them, we were merely atoms forced together with no purpose or reason for living.

It was cold in the cell made of stone.

The silence clenched the air, a suffocating quiet that saturated the cell, and I'd long since stopped screaming for Kendra, my voice hoarse and crackling.

A rodent had scurried across the stone pathway, but that had been the only sign of life since I'd arrived, and only the sharp pangs of hunger could tell me that time had passed.

At first, there had been fear, the consuming kind that froze in my bloodstream as an icy hand pumped my heart faster and faster. 

Then I'd been angry, so angry that I'd shaken the bars between my fists. I could still feel the cold metal's angry welts on my hands. 

After the anger had wilted away, I'd been stuck thinking the same words again and again, 'why me', looping until I'd screamed in agony, clutching my head in my hands. 

Until finally, I sat in the corner of the cell, close to where I'd woken up, where Kendra's bag was filled with minimal supplies, the thoughts from my mind were slowly drowned by a numbness that took hold of me. 

The scattered bones of the dead slept at my feet, and the chains which once held them captive creaked hauntingly upon the walls.

It was cold in the cell made of stone, where time had no meaning, and the darkness held no truths.

It was cold.

***

My eyelids drooped, and exhaustion claimed the last of my energy. My limbs felt heavy, and my throat was dry. The last drops of water had been spilled hours ago. My eyes felt scratched raw, and my head fell to my chest. 

I jerked upright, peeling my eyes open to see a room of white.

My head rested upon the goddess's lap from my dreams, and she caressed my hair, threading her fingers through the matted tangles. She leaned closer to my face, and her warm breath, like honey, melted over my skin. 'My sweet child, you will be okay.'

She had not aged or wanned since I'd last seen her, like a picture frozen in time to see out the years in her immortal state. Her hair was white as the snow that tipped the mountains behind Aucteraden, and she'd pinned some of her tendrils back to show the sharp features of her face while the rest tumbled down her back, kissing the sand where she sat. Her skin was dark, caressed by the sun's flames, and her white satin dress shimmered like rippling water. 

She was just as I remembered her, except she was transparent like she struggled to be here in this form.

'What is happening?'

I felt groggy, my head was tight, and the room's white was too bright.

Her hands slowed, stopping atop my head, and she sighed. 'You have been caught in the silent war between packs and hunters. He is looking for you but will not find you like this. It would be best if you did not give up hope. Only you and your determination will free you from this servitude.'