The unlikely union of light and darkness.
"My soul is ruined; made of dead stars, and darkness. And yet, you managed to find light in my hollow heart. Beauty in my unholiness. You mended the fissures of my being. And for that, I shall worship you fo...
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In wisp-like threads, her consciousness slowly streamed back into the basin of her mind. The river that swarmed with her thoughts and memories had dulled, but as she regained herself, the river turned azure, and suddenly, it moved again.Lilith stirred from her stupor. She left the realm of darkness and awoke in a brightly lit room. The light above her, white and blinding and a great contrast from the black void that had confined her, felt like a hot needle driving into her cornea. The witch winced and quickly covered her eyes.
"It's alright Lilith," a muffled voice crooned. The girl stilled, allowing a moment to pass before reality settled in and she realized the voice belonged to a corporeal being- not a figment born from her thoughts. The witch pursued the echo of the voice, but before she could register it- hold it and inspect it- it slipped from her fingers like a kite and lost itself to the swarm of her mind.
You're in the infirmary, the voice came again a minute later, stronger, but fickle, like a burning wick. Bracing herself, Lilith ripped her eyes open and forced her vision to focus on the silhouettes above her. Faces. Four of them. Their features were pulled away, as though a brush had stroked their flesh and distorted their human nature. Their eyes, mouths, and noses were dragged from their face, held by ligaments and tendons. "What-," she began, horrified, but stopped short. Her throat felt as though it was lined with charcoal. With a single vowel, a fire ignited within her and her throat was set ablaze.
"Shh. Do not force it," a different voice urged. "Do not strain yourself." Despite the tone of concern and warmth, the witch felt her body turn with wariness. She blinked rapidly, forcibly shifting the features back into the silhouette's faces. When their eyes were back into their sockets, and their skin threaded into their flesh, Lilith exhaled.
Dawn. Ulrich. Hiya. Abel.
They gathered above her, faces embedded with concern. All too familiar concern, the witch realized with a sudden heaviness clinging to her breast.
Somehow, her past always found a way to re-open her scars. It crawled inside her wounds and bled into her present. Lilith sank into the bed. She suddenly felt angry with herself, for putting them in such a position once more. When will it end, she thought, looking away from the group and fighting the tears in her eyes.
"Lilith," came Abel's voice, softer than his usual deep timbre. "Are you alright? Do you need anything?" The witch could not bring herself to reply. She nodded and grabbed Abel's hand with such force, the boy's eyes widened. Mallor quickly got over his surprise, however, and helped her up. "Easy, now. Nurse Heileen said too much motion will make you sick. Please, for my sake, do not throw up."
Lilith managed a small smile and like a flimsy doll, allowed her body to sit up on the stiff bed. Her eyes hardly adjusted to the brightness of the room. Everywhere she turned, white everything stared back at her, blinding her. The beds lining the chamber- all white and uniformly sterile- seeped into the marble floor, becoming one. And the women, who Lilith had mistaken for ghosts, could scarcely be seen as they walked about in their white dresses and aprons. She was in the infirmary; that much she knew. The root of her concern, however, was as to why.
