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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DARK, CRUSTED BLOOD COATED her eyelashes, sealing her eyes in a crypt of rank, oppressive darkness. Lilith's eyes felt heavy, as though coins had been placed atop, rendering her lifeless, and moored to a cold, lonely, abyss. The witch tamed her growing panic, reassuring herself over, and over again that she was not dead. She couldn't possibly be. Winters had promised her, had vowed to follow her to the depths of life, and death, to pull her and revive her. To be her salvation, if only to damn her afterwards.
She was not dead.
She could not be.
The utter confidence in the thought soothed her. The witch tamed her panic, counted her breaths. She laid still, straining to hear, forcing herself to sense movement. But there was nothing. Only the sound of her own heartbeat, the thrum of her pulse, and the phantom shift of her optics, scouring through shadow, and umbrae for light. Though fear threatened to imprison her, Lilith unrooted its seed, and thought of Regulus. His promise. His fury...
Lilith shivered.She could not forget his eyes. Could not shake away the resentment in them as he screamed at her to leave. The desperation, and regret, and sorrow, the violence, brutality, and hunger...
What had he seen? What had she made him see? It must have been horrible. Agony had ruled above all. Had taken claim over the land of his soul, and twisted it until it bled with sorrow. She remembered his face, corrupted with pale, and agonizing despair as he witnessed his worst nightmare unfold.
Yet, the witch could not bring herself to regret it. To find herself guilty, even if his agony would certainly haunt her. She had returned the same side of the coin, after all, and for that, she was not sorry. Not after witnessing her mother's death. Not after beholding a sight ot torture, and barbarity; after ear splitting screams punctured through her skull; after pools of blood, organs and torn limbs laid at her feer; after tasting burned flesh, and blood in her lungs.... And certainly, not after she had tried to assemble ash, and teeth like a God with ruined clay...
Oh gods...
The feel of charred skin-
The smell of it-
Bile, and metal stabbed at her tongue, pinching her throat tight. Lilith tore her eyes open. For a moment, her vision was saturated a deep, terrifying red. The witch gasped, and jolted from the cot she laid in, eyes wildly looking around.
The gigantic tree in the midst of the cave demanded her attention, first. It stood menacingly, surrounded by blistering stars, and cold, open darkness, spreading far and wide into the shadows. Lilith's eyes ran along its thick, gnarled base, and past it, taking in the clay walls, the dim fire, the murky jars, and swords- possessions she remembered vaguely, from a distant memory.
