Chapter 34

It is a strange feeling to be half dead.

I can feel life brushing at my fingertips, beckoning for me to rejoin it. At the very same time, a darkness is reaching for me, trying to drag me down with it. I want to live and I yearn to die.

I will never die.

This in-between stop between life and death is strange. It is dark and light and everything I am and will never be. This place is the largest contradiction of itself I have ever known. I feel so light. There is no war or Galen here. I do not have to feel my power trying to break free.

I want to die because I imagine death to be much like this; light.

My soul is unburdened here and I have no responsibility, but the pull back to life wins out over the darkness that seeks to ruin me and save me simultaneously. I take a moment to myself before giving into the pull, once I go back I imagine that I won't be coming back here for some time.

I smile and it's not for show or to lure someone into my trap ladened with a sweet honey. This is a smile for me. At this moment, it is only for me. There is no other here.

The smile falls from my red stained lips as I feel myself being dragged back into life and into the body that is torn and beaten and bruised and so much effort to maintain.

The first thought that comes to mind is pain. Unadulterated, unending torment. I can feel every cut and mark of the knife acutely.

It is pain to feel it and it is a raw feeling inside of me as the deep gashes start to close and heal and stitch themselves back together. Every cell in my body is alive with adrenaline and a distant memory of what fear feels like. It is all consuming.

Slowly, ever so painfully slowly, I start to regain movement. My fingers twitch. I am alone in this dark room. The torches are out and I am swallowed whole by the sensation of being back in that dark cell under Moonstone.

I am not alone.

I cannot be alone.

I will always be alone.

I breathe my first breath of air when my lungs un-collapse themselves. Something salty with tangs of metallic, maybe, enter me. I realise that while my injuries may be healing, my blood still coats every inch of my skin. A groan escapes my battered and abused lips as my head arches up and my eyes try to open.

I lay on the ground, devoid of sight, for what feels like an eternity as I wait for my body to heal itself. If I were a human I would be dead twenty times over.

This suffocating feel is exactly like how it feels to die buried under a thousand feet of compact dirt and stone. That kind of death isn't kind and if you're me, then you die a thousand times trying to dig your way out. You suffocate over and over and over again, feeling the pain tenfold.

I will never forget the ache in my chest, the collapsing of my lungs, the fear in my heart. I wish- no, wishing gets me nowhere. I hope to someday be able to let it all go, but that day is not today.

When I am able to get up and regain both my movement and eyesight, I head to the room Gislee had reserved for me. I don't know exactly how long I was in the in-between, so I'm not sure if the room is still saved for me.

Time in the in-between is odd and ever changing. Sometimes I can be in there for minutes and sometimes I am there for months. It's always different.

I open the door, careful not to make noise and I sigh in relief as I am met with the exact accommodations I had requested Gislee set up for me. There is water in the gigantic bath tub, but it's cold, so I flick a flame to life and heat it quickly.

The nausea and black bile is gone, so I suspect that the surge of power I gave off and was able to direct through the ley lines worked. I can feel that my reserves of power have expanded and filled themselves up just as quickly.

I quickly undress and burn my pile of clothing, stepping into the welcoming water. As I wash the blood off me, my muscles slowly relax and the tension seeps out of my body.

When I step out, I look new and fresh. I look like I've suffered a day in my life.

My fighting leathers are still in one of the drawers and I pull a pair out and begin the slow process of getting dressed. I strab on a few daggers and I go to leave, but my door bangs open.

Leander strides in with a glass bowl of water mixed with some herbs. He doesn't see me yet, but when he turns in my direction, there is no stopping it.

He drops the bowl and his face goes stark white. His hands shake and he closes his eyes, blinking and looking back at me, as if in a daze. "You are not real. You are not real. You are not real. You are not real." he mutters. He saw my dead figure and probably thinks he's losing his flame damned mind.

He turns to leave, to walk out the door and try to forget my image, but I stop him with a hand. "Leander, I'm fine."

His face twists up into a contorted expression of what resembles pain, "I saw you die. I saw your dead body. I know you're dead."

My face bunches up, my eyes reflecting ill-founded pains as I am forced to express my own personal torture, "Leander, I can't die."

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