The first breath burns. His lungs won't open. He is drowning, air pulling away, instead of in. What is probably only seconds lasts an impossible length. Finally in a gasping heave, something shifts. Air returns in a painful, rushing gush. An ill-set relief. Wrongness bleeds deep, looms close, a horror gnashing, crashing his internal self to pieces.
I died.
He remembers the feeling of being consumed. Singed paralysis, melting heat, pain aching to his bones, a white blindness, a muted shackle. Dying sucks, nothing new about that.
His mind trips back on itself in small steps. "My fucked-up God-father." He mutters.
The "Fucked-up...fucked-up" echo of his voice plays on a great many open empty walls, until it sounds more like "Fuck-up" and fades to nothing at all.
His mind trips back further.
Waves that crash, the blast of icy wind.
Salt sprays.
Her.
The feel of her curled close into his chest, the horror in her eyes as she looks to their future. "Don't" Her face, her eyes looking up at him, eyes he'd been more obsessed with in the last week than he knew how to handle. A gaze that had unhinged the bear trap of his soul.
"Mina." The 'ah' at the end of her name echoes in whispers about him. Nothing stirs in reply. He is alone as he feels. A cool slide of wetness trails down his face, down his ear, neck.
"Don't." She says again.
His heart beats unsteadily within him, As if she didn't already have the devil at her throat. He grimaces remembering the wound at her neck.
The world has become a thing of black-night dreams, and I alive within them.
He opens his eyes.
YOU ARE READING
Silver Stranded Stars
Science FictionMina has been reduced to her blades, her heart singed to ash. She is shadowed by two giants, each offering their protection. They form a reluctant truce in the face of the god-hunt after Mina; her cursed genetics a blessing, and their undoing. Ka...
