37 Four Hearts Bea

'Six pale fingers around her ankle,

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Twisted white strands for each finger.

They whispered as they watched.

A single eye, hidden within, seeing all.

They hungered for flesh.

They thirsted for innocence.

Ah, to drink of her blood. Lovingly. Explicitly.

See how she squirms.

See how she rejects.

'Cry out, Child of Heaven.

No Angel can hear you in this place.'

Pale ignored the sound of his own voice, whispering words he did not will.

"Pale... Please tell me what's going on. You're scaring me." Taree's voice quivered as she spoke. She stared ahead into the darkness, petrified in fear.

"Just don't move. It'll be okay. I'll get it off you."

"G-get what-- O-okay?" Taree grew quiet, strangely obedient. "Please hurry."

Pale knelt down, placing the Ivory Stone in his mouth to see. A humanoid arm made of dozens of twisted off-white tendrils had ensnared Taree's bruising ankle, rising impossibly out of flattened rock. He pried at the cold fingers but they were as immovable as tree roots.

The cave suddenly roared, like a hammer that had fallen upon a heavy stone, and a web of cracks bleeding a harsh, white light spread from below the girl's foot. Quickening his pace, Pale had placed his spear-blade against the foreign hand-- it bled a warm, transparent-gold sap.

"Pale! Do something! It hurts!" Taree whined in pain. Pale was at an impasse, realizing that injuring the hand made its grip tighten.

Before he could decide, the ground gave way. Not content with sinking the pair into the earth, the ground instead, shattered like glass, sending them tumbling through endless white.

The feeling of weightlessness overcame Pale's senses. Six white, smooth-stoned walls surrounded them, illuminated by an unseen source as they fell into the abyss. Red cracks in the walls disrupted the eerie white, carved as violent strikes of lightning, pulsating with a scarlet glow.

The falling had stopped at the cost of Pale nearly dislocating his entire shoulder. He looked up to see that Taree had grabbed onto one of the protruding red roots and also onto his wrist.

"Taree? Taree! Are you okay!?" Pale yelled, his voice echoing and distorting. .

The girl stared at nothing, her pupils dilated and unfocused, as she began to babble.

"Four hearts beat desperately for the body, flesh remaining, with rotting soul. The Child? The Ancient. The Missing? The Dead. Praise--"

"Taree! Let go of the branch!"

Pale grit his teeth in frustration, seeing the girl continue to mumble incoherently. He slung his spear over his shoulder and he began to climb the little girl.

'Ow! Pale?" Pale's touch snapped her out of her daze, "What the heck?! That hurts! Wh-WHERE are you touching?!"

"Let go of the branch, Taree!"

"Wait, what? No!"

Pale raised his voice, "You have to let go of the branch!"

Taree shook her head wildly, grabbing onto the crimson lifeline with both of her hands.

"I can't! I need to go back! My brother's in that cave! I have to make sure he's okay!"

Pale climbed up the lithe girl, hooking his arm over her shoulder. Reaching up, he began prying her fingers off of the branch.

"Why are you doing this Pale?! Pale, stop! We need to go back!"

Pale shook his head as he freed and held tightly onto her right hand. She stared at their intertwined fingers with wide eyes and warmed cheeks.

"You have to trust me. We have to keep moving until the voices stop."

"Pale... No! I don't want to fall! I need to-- I need to KNOW! WHY does the Child grow old?! WHY does the Ancient yearn to be free? Why does the--"

Pale reached up to unhook the girl's pinky from the branch, and with that, she unwittingly let go. Not a second had passed when the opposite white wall opened up, a brilliant white blinding their eyes. Waxy, half-melted flesh upon bony fingers-- a gigantic hand, larger than the two of them together, reached out of the light. As they fell, the pale hand and arm shot forward, bloodying itself on the red roots, its smooth surface tearing apart its flesh like sandpaper.

...

Pale never let go of her hand.

Taree was so scared, she had run out of tears. She embraced Pale as they fell and buried her face in his warm chest. She didn't want to see anything anymore. She didn't want to hear anything anymore. She wanted to hear Pale's one heartbeat, not four. Not four.

The voices in her head fell to whispers. The sensation of falling grew distant. She curled her body up and Pale was carrying her in his arms. He was running, bobbing her up and down as he ran, making it difficult for her to sleep. She just wanted to lie on his chest and sleep until it was all over. She wanted to punch him until he stopped running. He needed to rest. But he wouldn't listen to her pleading. She wriggled angrily in his arms to show her dissatisfaction but not enough to disrupt his gait.

...

Pale walked amidst a forest of crystalline trees, their branches clear like refined glass, and their trunks ancient like thick mountain ice. He walked upon anywhere there wasn't water, ten hundred trees and ten thousand pools before him, his spear slung on his back, and a sleeping brat held in his arms. He couldn't see through the water, gently lapping against the dirt and sand. Each a perfect mirror, the pools reflected a green and salmon-pink sky.

Time blurred in this place. Countless bells passed as he walked, watching the waters rise and fall. Binary suns cut across the strange sky, watching their world in silence.

He found a spot to place the sleeping Taree, upon a gently sloping crook at the base of a crystal tree. He ran his hand along its bark, finding it smooth and comfortable, then laid her down gently.

"Come out," Pale called out. He unslung his spear and spun it with a flourish.

Within two spears' distance, a dark shadow dropped down from a tree, landing as softly as the ring of a bell. When it drew its sword, its metallic ring sent soft ripples across all the mirrors in their small world.