Page 4 of Returned to the Vissigroth
I lay back, breathing shallowly, my heart hammering against a cage I didn’t remember building. The wordcoffintried once again to invade my mind, but I pushed it away. I was afraid that once I let it in, whatever sanity I was still holding onto would dissolve like the condensation on the glass.
A deep melancholy settled over me, inside me, so deep I felt like crying. A loss? I had no recollection; all I felt was a deep ache of something missing. Something irrevocably gone.
Something above me moved. Grateful, I latched on to the distraction, unwilling to analyze my position or my state of mind any further. A shadow passed by, and my body froze with it. There was no distinct sound. Just a whisper, like a page turning.I strained my ears to listen, but there was nothing. Not a voice. Not footsteps. Just the faint, aching press of silence.
Then it came again.
Silently and dry, something pressed against my chest. A shimmer caught my eye, and a slight pulse. I arched my neck to see; the effort left me nearly breathless, but my curiosity was greater. I looked down, breathing hard now, with a taste in my mouth that resembled swallowed dust and stale air.
A golden tear glowed and pulsed where it touched my skin, just below my collarbone. It sank in slowly, the warmth moving like breath through bone, coiling into my ribs, my spine, my skull.
And something inside me whispered,Remember.
But I didn’t. I couldn't. I didn’t know my name. I didn’t know why I was here. Or where here even was. I didn’t know who built the glass or who had laid me in it.
But I knew with absolute certainty that I wasn’t supposed to stay.
One more time, I tried to sit.
This time, my body obeyed, trembling as I pushed up onto one elbow. The glass above me had split. A clean line down the center, as if it had been waiting for me to open it. My hands and arms trembled when I reached out.
The crack widened beneath my fingers with a soft hiss, and fresh air rushed in like it had been holding its breath longer than I had.
The lid lifted. With a shattering sound, the walls to my side fell away and to the ground, splintering into thousands of shards.So loud, it hurt my ears and sparked a dull headache. One that thankfully didn't stand much of a chance after the initial crash, because the touch of cool stone and mountain air flooded me. Soothed my aching body.
Carefully, I readjusted myself until my legs dangled weakly over the edge of whatever I was lying on.
Curiously, I took in my surroundings. The stony walls led me to think I was inside a cave. Ornate torches hung in regular intervals, illuminating the spacious area. A chair stood close to where I sat, as if someone… my heart picked up speed… had sat there, staring at me inside the… coffin. Now that I was out, I was able to think the word without feeling like I was spiraling down a deep abyss. The dent in the upholstery made me think that whoever had sat in that chair wasn't only heavy, but had sat there a lot. An image tried to form in my mind, but it was too hazy to take on any shape. It was there, though, and a yearning for whoever it was hit me like a lightning bolt.
To escape the ache in my mind and chest and the deep melancholy that hung over me like a too-heavy cloak, I put my feet tentatively on the ground. I wore black leather shoes. Finely made and soft, but sturdy enough that I could feel the shards underneath my feet while still being protected from them. When I looked down, I found the ground filled with the remnants of illis flowers. Some so old they had turned back to dirt, others just wilted and dry. So many. My hand flew to my chest, where I still felt the pulsing, golden tear, distracting me from any memories that might have tried to surface at the sight of the flowers. The tear felt like liquid mercury. Not wet, not hard, but solid. A pliable solid, if that made any sense.
Slowly, it absorbed into my skin, forcing me to take a gasping breath at the intrusion. It wasn't revolting, but felt like a violation nevertheless.
Myccael, shot through my head.
Myccael.
Find Myccael, and make him stop the magrail.
The name Myccael raised my already lying in wait just under my skin anxiety. I knew the name meant something to me, but I couldn't give it any connection. Other than the weeping melancholia—already holding hands with the anxiety, both waiting to break through and overwhelm me—gaining more territory inside me. Something about the name triggered a feeling of loss in me that threatened to drown me in my own, so far, unshed tears. I didn't know why I wanted to curl up on that chair and weep. But the urge to do so was so great, I nearly succumbed.
The need to get going andfind Myccael, however, won out. Using one hand for support against the wall, I made my way first through the chamber I had inhabited for… I had no idea… however long, through a long, narrow tunnel, which was thankfully also generously lit.
With every step I took, I felt my strength returning. The air took on a cooler, fresher consistency, telling me that I was on my way out of the cave.
"Halt, who goes there?" A deep voice startled me.
Two dragoons—how did I know all that when I didn't even know my own name?—stood on either side of the entrance. Their long,wicked swords were drawn and aimed at me. Both males looked young, and at the sight of me, they blanched.
"I beg your pardon, Vissy Thalia. I didn't know you were inside," the younger-looking guard said, sheathing his sword, but he still looked utterly confused.
The other followed, but slower, looking at me like he'd seen a ghost. "Nobody told us you were in there, Vissy Thalia."
"The day shift was supposed to warn us," the first added.
They were so young, I thought, wondering how I knew and how old I was. But I was sidetracked by the name they had given me.Vissy Thalia. Was that me?
The first guard scratched his head, "I didn't even… I thought…" confused, he looked at the other, "our orders are to not allow anybody in or out."
