The rain poured without care for the world. It drummed against branches and stone as sound itself blurred into a single note. The air that was once was thick with smells of copper. Now washed away, dulled, and spread thin, leaving only a petrichor earthy scent.
The sky was devoured by dark clouds as the woman moved through the forest. Dragging behind her, a child whose face was hidden beneath the wet strands of hair. At her side the pain took ahold of her; she leaned forward and winced in pain, gripping her abdomen as blood seeped through her clothes.
"Almost there…," she whispered.
Hearing a faint whisper, Arinia woke to a lurch. What had greeted him instead of the tranquil and peaceful warmth of his bed. He was met with sharp pain all over his body and the cold element of the weather all over his flesh.
His eyes opened, blurred and unsteady. He was being carried to somewhere, and again, he could only observe and let the story unfold itself.
The forest opened around him, and awaited them was an old ruin made of pale stone and many broken pillars. Moss crept over a faded carving and murky water that ran down through the cracks of the wall. At its center was an altar made of fine marble. Slick with rain, glowing faintly whenever lightning crawled across the sky.
She stumbled at the threshold and fell to her knees. He slipped from her grasp: with a dull sound, his body struck the stone.
He felt the pain, wanting to speak out, but he could not muster up a single word as if a great weight were pressing down on his chest.
She forced herself upright and pulled him closer to the altar. But action cost her.
With blood dripping at her side of the abdomen, her breath came ragged against the cold air.
"Please," she murmured. "Just a little more." She reached out, pulling him to the altar and laid him down.
Her skin was cold and nearly translucent. The stillness of her barely moving chest can be seen. As if taking another breath can cause her to collapse.
For a moment she looked at him as if she were trying to burn images of him into her memories.
He too looked at her, wanting to figure out her intention.
But all he could see was only a small, delicate curve of her lips. It was a smile. A ridiculous smile—out of place for such an occasion.
He wanted to know who she was and ask, "Why? Why is she doing all of this?" But again, no words came out.
"You weren't made for this cruel world," the woman spoke.
"So… let another take you."
He felt a sharp throbbing pain on his palm as the woman sliced the knife across his hand. She then placed his hand on the faintly glowing runes.
It hurt. It really does. But there was a greater pain in his chest. As if he's losing something important.
The ruin listened, and a low vibration moved beneath the marble.
The carved lines in the floor started shimmering, and soon a thread of light began weaving itself and spilled outward from where his blood had touched the stone.
She placed her hand on his chest. "This is all I can do for you, my dear." She spoke softly with a smile on her face.
Looking at her warm smiles, he wanted to speak out and say something to her.
But again, his voice failed him.
There was a soft radiance surrounding the altar. The wind began to blow around them. Through the cracks and into the storm outside, the radiant light engulfed the area. The scent of rain and metal began to fade away as the light that spilled outward began to move toward them.
By my order.
"May the old world grant a new fate to you."
"That is kinder," she whispered.
Her breath grew weaker, but she held her palm steady against him. Soon the glow of the rune within the altar climbed to his arm, reaching his shoulder, and finally began wrapping him whole into a fragile cocoon of white light.
"Live, my child…" she breathed, her voice breaking. "Even should you forget."
This is my promise to you.
"My Hope."
"My Dawn."
"My End."
The words were foreign and beyond his knowing. He could not understand what she had said. But he could understand that he's leaving to somewhere beyond the light.
The world swallowed him whole. Only the woman remained.
She slumped down next to the altar, her drenched veil falling onto the wet floor as her hand outstretched toward the empty space.
After a brief stillness, the droplet fell across her face, and the rain returned—heavy and unrelenting—but after a while it steadied down as the world itself seemed to have forgiven the woman. She opened her mouth half-heartedly, wanting to say one more word, but not a single impression of it came.
Silence was the only thing that remained.
A thin rain fell, hesitant… almost kind. It washed the blood from her and from the stone. She lay beside the altar, her body drawn in upon itself.
A quiet smile lingered as her eyes slowly dimmed.
In lieu of the boy,
She claimed the end meant for him.
_____________________________________________________________
The light vanished.
The altar was gone.
The forest.
The rain.
Even the woman's voice.
When Arinia opened his eyes, he felt the moisture in his eyes followed by a warmth sliding down the side of his face.
Tears.
His vision was blurred. He wanted to recall the memories, but they quickly began to fade away.
For a moment he did not understand why.
"What…?" he murmured in confusion.
But the dream was already gone.
All of it dissolved like mist beneath the morning sun.
_____________________________________________________________
He could feel the lingering discomfort of not being able to remember the remnant of his dream. His hands were trembling. He tries to move it toward his face to wipe the tears but fails to do so, confused. Arinia tried to get up but struggled greatly to push himself off the bed.
He then heard a creaking noise that broke the silence of the room. The door opened without urgency. The light slipped in a pale and gentle glow. Then a figure, she stepped inside as if she already belonged in the space. Not hesitant nor hurried, her presence did not disturb him or the room. Just settling into it.
"You're awake." Her voice was quiet.
Arinia looked at her for a moment; he said nothing. He thinks it would be rude, as his memories are still in a daze, and he cannot remember who she is.
She crossed the room toward him. When she reached him, she paused for a brief moment examining his state before helping him up slowly, one hand supporting his back, the other steadying his arm.
His breath faltered, and his gaze drifted—unfocused, searching for something to say.
'''I—''
The word broke apart before it could form.
"It will pass," she said quietly. You will remember soon; dreams tend to leave things… scattered.
It took quite some time for his mind to loosen.
"Naria," he muttered.
The name felt familiar as if it always had been there.