Promise of Dusk (Endings #1)

Chapter 4

I don’t remember ever feeling this alive. Floating through nothingness. Nothing but a bodiless soul. Dying is more peaceful than I had ever imagined. So quick. More painless than I deserved. I don’t know how long I sit in this peaceful space between realms, but I could stay here forever. In this chasm of endless life and death. A place of choice.

Whispers pull at the edge of my consciousness, caressing my soul, pulling me towards some understanding—some place that feels impossibly far, a journey of a lifetime away, but so familiar. The place calls to me, knowing my name, my heart. A mother, a lover, a sister, a friend. All four voices asking me to stay.

Visions flash in the emptiness. A river of fire—red and white iridescent scales against a smoke-filled sky—red ink moving within tan skin—trees, endless, ageless, locked in a timeless dance with the winds—red stone—

The peace is shattered. I’m pulled viciously back into my body. The grass, wet with dew, tickles my arms, legs, and the left side of my face. A shiver races down my spine and makes my eyes burst open. My body feels so oppressively heavy, like I’m being pulled into the ground by some force.

The world is sideways. I lift my head where it lies against the cold, damp grass, my hair sticking to the side of my head and face. My vision spins, making the world shift and turn. My head is the weight of a boulder. I let it fall to the ground again, closing my eyes to keep the bile in my throat from coming up.

How did I get here? There’s a throbbing pain behind my eyes. I wiggle my toes, fearing paralysis. Did I fall? My fingers and toes move; I can feel them. I start to bend my knee, my joints protesting greatly. My muscles are useless, exhausted in a way I have never experienced before. Am I ill? I take a deep breath, sending shooting pains through my ribs and sternum. Did I get trampled by a horse?

I risk opening my eyes once more and see light start to peek over the hill, the road to my house down the hill barely visible. It’s either the start of the light or the ending of it. I never realized how the beginnings and endings of the day look so indiscernible.

Taking a deep breath I try to remember. Where was I last? I remember dandelions, yellow even in the mist and fog. Walking into Diana’s darkened house. A handsome, golden-eyed stranger. Rage and fear. Hissed accusation—words I’ll never be able to take back. I remember waking up the morning after, going to work… Mariana nearly knocking me over, pushing me into the woods… The memory stops my heart in my chest.

My whole body screams as I roll over onto my front. I push myself onto my hands and knees, panting through searing pain in my chest. I distantly take note of my whole body being wet and chilled, but my mind is reeling, looking for the threat. Looking for something to defend myself with. My gaze darts around as remnants of terror crawl out of my stomach. Trembling starts in my shoulders and radiates from my spine. I look up, still unable to get to my feet. My house is many paces away. Darkened forms are scattered near the front walkway, many of them. They do not seem big enough to be men—not the hulking Crows that accosted me.

I haul myself onto two feet, my body and vision swaying. I have no idea how much time has passed. Hours or days, it could be either.

Stumbling towards the shapeless forms, I search for clarity. I approach slowly. There’s no sound or movement. Not even the frogs croak from the river. Bile rises in my throat as pieces click together. The forms are… parts of them. Parts of the Crows.

My hand flies over my mouth, and whooshing begins in my ears. The first one is just a torso, lumpy and mangled. One armored arm, a glove removed, reaches away from the torso, reaching for something it will never touch. The skin is almost purple in death. The armor provided no aid to this male. The torso looks like it has been roughly torn off of the bottom half of the body, innards broken off as if made of stone.

I walk amongst the destroyed. An omen of death in a graveyard. Did I do this? I was the only person here, in my memory, of their final moments. How could I have done this? Even in my fear-addled state, thrashing and desperate, I have the muscle tone of a malnourished child. Who helped me?

I reach for more memories, grasping at wisps of smoke. Nothing.

None of the other Crows are in better shape than the first one. I see the one who first grabbed me. The hand covered in a leather glove is curled, the flesh underneath blackened. The plates of his armor, once shined silver, are now coated in ash, black as night. His corpse is pieces of shattered marble.

I should feel remorse for a life lost. But I stare into the fractured face of a monster who inflicts pain and suffering upon innocents. One who would have hurt me in ways he had probably hurt many other women.

Some people don’t deserve to live.

Would he have re-dressed me before he hung my violated body off of the parapet? Would he have continued polluting the world with his greed? Terrorizing people? Turning neighbors against one another? Stealing food from the mouths of starving children for sport?

Nothing would have changed for him. If I would have died as he intended, it would have been just another day for him.

I have to go.

The others will come looking for their comrades.

I rest my eyes upon my house.

Whatever life I have ahead, I can’t continue to sit in this ache. This loss. Holding onto the phantom of my mother’s hand. Holding onto… what else exactly? The absence of something?

My hand moves from over my mouth to check I still have my bracelet. Even in the dim lighting, the green gem glistens in its silver inset, untarnished, more perfectly crafted than any piece I’ve ever laid eyes on. It grounds me. Reminds me that this is real: the mourning doves cooing in the distance, the ground beneath my feet, the Crow corpses strewn around me.

Maybe I will catch a barge across the salt sea, get away from this hopeless realm. Sheer my hair to my scalp, steal some clothes. It can’t be that hard. I just have to get there. I look towards the woods, as if my eyes can see through it all the way to the port towns on the western coast. I look back down at my bracelet. This may be worth enough to get me there. But even as I think it, my whole being rejects the idea. Maybe this is why my father never suggested it, even in the worst of our poverty.

Sell this treasure, this one last line of attachment? She would want me to, to live—to get away from this place. There are many things my mother would have wanted for me. I have disappointed her in pretty much every way anyways.

I’ll find a way. But not this way.

I walk up to the lump in the ground. My father’s grave. I take it in for a long time—longer than I have been able to since that day Diana found me. Crouching down, I smooth my fingers over the damp grass crawling over the dirt. My flat, calm hand turns to a claw, tearing at the ground, ripping up clumps of dirt and grass, rocks bloodying my fingertips. Once I have a hole the size of my fist, I lay the bracelet down, gently, as if handling a delicate corpse. I cover it with the clumps I tore out.

Now we are all together. My mother in the rose petals and thorns, my father’s body in the ground, and the last beautiful part of me. All in the ground together, in this empty place that was once full of strawberry pies, quiet giggles, and love.

God, I hope I never see it again.

Standing is easy. It’s as if that bracelet carried the weight of a boulder in my pocket and I had never realized it. I turn away, not looking at the other corpses desecrating this holy ground.

Numbly, I take note of the ground where I awoke, as the light of dawn begins to reveal truth. The grass that blanketed the ground is now dead. It is browned in a circle radiating out a house-length from where I arose. The corpse of a rabbit lies amidst the destruction. My steps are steadier than they should be as I make my escape over the footbridge, disregarding the dead frogs piling up on its lapping, shallow shores. I can feel the shroud of darkness hide me from seeking eyes as I step into the wood.