6: Nothing

Dear Reader,

Please enter this chapter with the awareness that it addresses sensitive subjects. If you find that the content may be distressing, please take the time you need and consider skipping this section if necessary. If needed, I can provide you with a summary of this chapter so it does not hinder your progress in this book. Your well-being as a reader is of the utmost importance to me.

Thank you, and enjoy: Nothing.

-Luna Moon x

TW// Death, Acts of Violence, Vivid Descriptions

6

Stellina

The pillow beneath my head digs into my neck painfully. It is rough and bumpy, as though it is filled with rocks rather than feathers or cotton. So too is the mattress; which contains bumps and a slanted body. It is cold. There is a faint, persistent ringing noise coming from somewhere, accompanied by the faint crackle of fire, slowly burning out. Someone must have lit it for me.

I shift to turn over in my bed but a sharp pain blares through my skull. I gasp, eyes flying open, and try to breathe slowly as the room swings into view. As the image focuses into fruition, I come to the immediate realisation that I am not in my room. Somehow, I managed to find a staircase to sleep on, an interesting choice. 

My eyelids pull closer together, urging to be reunited. The tug of sleep is almost irresistible, I am about to succumb to it when I notice the gaping hole in front of me. Although I lay on a solid surface with tall, white walls rising around me to fight off the wind, there are a few crumbling stairs several steps from me where the walls are simply non-existent. They are like poorly made archways, constructed by a hammer and ill will. The night air pours through this gap and filters upwards to my thinly clothed body, causing me to shiver. This, in turn, produces an awful sensation of my brain hitting against the confines of my skull.

I attempt to lift myself from the white stone to see what lies beyond this curious abyss, but I am stopped by a flare of searing heat in my mind which flashes across my vision in bright white, leaving me dizzy. I fall back with a grunt. Maybe I should just sleep off the pain, let it heal. Then I can deal with the staircase. Xada or my parents would have an explanation if I could not find one.

I allow my eyes to finally close. The pain slowly ebbs away as it mixes with sleep, calm, tranquillity.

Xada.

The thought comes to mind like an arrow hitting its target; piercing the flesh and ramming inside. I shoot from the peace and solitude, my head burning, hurting, and empty the contents of my stomach onto the step below me.

It is hard to swallow and everything is muddled and hazy; chaotically swinging back and forth, too fast. Warm tears blur my vision further as they mix with the heat on my face. I touch my forehead, slowly and shakily. It comes away wet, warm. My fingers are covered in blood. I stare at the substance, my eyes like needles as I fight their unfocused blur. My breath shudders like a rattling of bones against skeletal ribs.

I am going to die here. Alive and conscious, aware of every little pain pounding through me. It is almost funny, I do not know how I came to be this way. I do not know what I did before I fell asleep on the stairs. Did I fall asleep on the stairs? Did I fall down them? It was kind of funny, but when I laugh it hurts so I sob instead and stare at the red liquid dripping off of my fingers.

My non-bloodied hand clutches at my necklace, rubbing against the sharp edges. Where did I get a necklace?

Xada.

Every part of me protests as I look up, frantically. The world shakes but my mentor is nowhere to be seen. I am alone on this broken staircase. Carefully, I try to stand up. My legs are almost fully extended when the pain returns with an unrelenting, furious force. I drop back to the floor, like a broken rag doll, and watch the still world pass as my tears mix with the blood trickling down my face.

The world is dead and I will be too.

“Stella!” The sound is a relief and a burden as it flashes through my senses. I rip my head around to see the origins of the cry, thinking that I may have imagined it. But there is someone there, my eyes cannot focus on their wavering white figure, dashing towards me. They come to a stop on the step above me and drop to their knees. Though the world spins and fazes, I know it is my mother’s hands that take my face in their hands.

A calming warmth spreads from where she rests her palms against my cheeks. Slowly, the pain pulses out of existence leaving only the barrenness of the night and the memories which flood over the barrier which had held them in place moments before. My mother’s face reveals itself in full detail; dirty and streaked with echoes of tears. Her hands are covered in dry blood but, with a quick glance, I can see it is not hers. She is not physically harmed, except for a bruise here and there, and she holds herself strongly, confidently, as she always does, but I can tell that something is off. I can not put my finger on it, but she seems exhausted. Or maybe it is my own, emitting from my bones. 

I collapse into her arms, washing the dirt from her dress with water from my eyes. Her chin rests against my hair, still wet from blood. She strokes my back and murmurs, ‘I am here.’ into the air above me. I wish I could apologise for snapping at her the day before, or explain what happened but I know that if I open my mouth, only cries will spill out. I wish I could never let go of her, but, of course, it must come to an end. As all things do. 

She pulls herself from me and wipes the blood from my face with a soiled sleeve. As she does, her gaze lands on my sigil in the middle of my forehead. She stares at it before catching sight of the necklace Xada gave to me.

Xada. Where is he?

She takes the necklace lightly in her hand. After a moment, she whispers,

“Baby, where is Xada?” I do not have a response for her. I know where he was; on the stairs in front of me, but I do not know where he is. 

She pulls me upright. I grasp onto her arm, scared to let her go. We begin to make our way down the stairs, to continue the journey Xada and I had undertaken. I am not sure how long ago. The night is just as dark as it was. However, there are no horns, no blasts of magic, no voices of people. 

Where is Xada? Now that my head is devoid of the flashes of painful heat, the question seems to fill my brain. He was there, and then he was not. Taken by a barrage of stone. 

An awful thought comes to mind just as I catch the slightest change in my mother’s breath; a small gasp before reverting to its original pattern. I look up at her and a shiver runs through me as my gaze lands on her pale cheeks. But, with a blink, the colour returns and I am almost convinced I imagined it. We are walking carefully over the broken part of the staircase, so, I follow the train of the awful thought and attempt to look over the edge, to see what lies below. My mother clutches my wrist as I scan past charred, broken trees and shattered buildings. Quietly, almost so that I can not hear her, she says,

“Do not look down there, Stellina. Please.” And, although her tone scares me, it only makes me want to see what she spotted even more. 

I am able to pinpoint the moment a terrible emptiness sinks into my soul. 

I look at the wreckage of buildings below, my hair fluttering around me with the wind. Ash falls into my open mouth. If I could shout, I would, but all I do is choke, over and over again as a nauseous feeling overtakes me. 

Xada’s broken body lies below, far below, draped over rubble and branches. His pristine white blouse is covered in blood which has long spread over the white ruins beneath him. The gleam of his brilliant blue eyes has been snuffed out like the flickering embers around him. He stares emptily at where I stand. His silver hair is splayed around his head like a halo, glowing in the night. The sigil on his forehead has faded into his skin, the ethereal light it once emitted extinguished. His limbs are bent unnaturally. His neck is at the wrong angle. Bark pierces through his arms and stomach. If only I could pull them out, fix his body. If only I could have stopped fate.

My mother pulls me away. Xada disappears behind white walls. My life closes behind me. In front of me is nothing. I feel nothing.

We are at the north-eastern sommelnium entrance. There are bodies littered everywhere, even though this is the most secluded entrance to the tunnels below. I do not take much notice of them, they are just shapes to me. I look past them to the entrance of the sommelnium. 

I did not think it possible, but my heart sinks further and my frown stretches tighter across my face. I hold my mother’s hand tightly.

The entrance to the sommelnium is positioned in front of us amidst the wreckage of shops and homes surrounding it. Its curving stone structure with elegant runes engraved into it has been tainted by shuddering red webs. Beyond this vibrating barrier, I glimpse bodies torn apart in the eerie red light. The stone street has been torn up like a rippling carpet and thrown about, creating hills in this space. I almost trip over one of these abnormal ripples when my mother stops. Her gaze has found our safety’s barred entrance. She mutters a curse under her breath.

She acts quickly by dropping to the floor to start drawing runes in a circle around us. Her finger etches shimmering white lines in the shattered pavement which fade into a dim grey glow as she passes them. I am fixated on her movements. It is rare that I see her practice magic but she is extraordinary. Each rune is carved with careful precision and expertise, even in the grey shade of our dark vision. At each quarter of the circle, she sends a prayer to our gods above, marked by their respective symbols. One to Zela for time, another to Uwaz for clarity, the third to Gaira for power. As her finger rushes to finish the circle, she pauses. Something is in the shadows. I hear it too. But I do not see the knife.

My mother lunges in front of me before I can comprehend the situation. She brings her arm curving through the air twice, in two quick and precise movements. Two slashes of pure energy rip through the air from her hand. The first bolt slices through a knife of pure shadow and creates a mark in the building across from us as it continues its path. The second disappears into the darkness. But it hits its target. A sharp hiss followed by a growl chills the air surrounding us.

Adrenaline rushes through my body, calling my muscles to action. I look into the darkness and see nothing but shadows and bodies. All I know is that we are in the presence of a necromancer who assisted in this mass slaughter and it wants to add us to its death count.

I inch closer to my mother’s side, continuing to squint in the direction of the sound. My mother wastes no time to finish the sigil, her finger closes the gap and she traces the last rune. The fourth, to Tawa, for protection.

It is almost unnoticeable, like a breath on the wind. A faint sound twists the air into whispery shapes. A sound like metal shivering in the wind. A flash of dim light flies through the air as my mother rises. The sigils beneath us glow. I stare into the darkness. Into nothing.

With a tingling, numbing sensation, the grim scene is changed to the forest outside Lumnia. I now squint at our toppled city walls. Then blink as I realise what just happened. My mother gasps beside me. I turn to face her.

Unwillingly, my feet stumble backward. With a horror that crawls all over my body, I stare at the hole in my mother’s chest.

She falls forward, her fingers shakily hover over the empty area where her heart used to be. No blood falls from the wound. It is as though it is a part of her. Like it always has been. She catches herself at the last moment with her other hand and leans backward in the grass, drawing hasty breaths into the sky. They cloud above her, rise, and disappear. I stand, rooted in place. My body trembles. For once, my mind is devoid of thought.

Tears fall from my mother’s face. She speaks, her mouth contorted in agony, each word is a step away from a cry of pain, each sentence is broken by a sharp intake of air,

“There is an entrance to a private sommelnium a couple of paces from here…Go to it…Press your hand to the rune…It will recognise you…It will destroy immediately once you are inside…Do this for me, baby…Please.” It must be a lifetime until the words register in my barren brain. I can see through her. I can see through her. The hole is an ugly window to the world behind her. My breath comes quickly, too quickly. The ground beneath me sways. I fall to my knees in front of her.

“I- I can not leave you.” My voice is a shivering whisper. I look into her deep blue eyes. An ocean roars within them.

“You must.” I shake my head, faster and faster, squeezing my eyes shut. “Stella, you must.” I refuse to move. I can not move. My hands are planted to the earth, unmoving like vines holding tight to my flesh. My mother’s hands move to rest on top of mine, her freckles flicker in the starless night. She sighs and a warmth absorbs into my skin. It rushes uncomfortably through my body. I snap my head back in place to look at her.

“You will go to the sommelnium, now. You will get there safely. Without turning. Without looking back. You will activate the sommelnium like you were taught. I will see you again, I promise.”

I will go to the sommelnium. I stand up. One foot leads the other. My body is not my own.

I will get there safely. I pick up speed. Duck under a hanging branch. Carefully step over a jutting root.

Without turning. Without looking back. The tree in front of me has a rune. I press my hand to it. The wood curls outwards, revealing a sharp decline into the earth. I enter. Walk down. Behind me, everything is silent. There is no longer any light to assist my vision. I walk forwards until a singular sommelnium is in front of me. Empty, alight in a purple-hued glow. My cheeks are wet. The air is cold.

I lay down in the centre of the sigil. Splay my body along the star-like shape of it. Drag my fingertips to the waypoints at each point of the star.

I activate the sommelnium like I was taught.

A burst of sound fills my hearing. A bright purple light is all I can see. My eyes roll upwards beneath their lids. My back arches.

I will see you again, I promise.

The energy rips me apart.

Bit by bit.

Piece by piece.

I open my eyes.