I was floating in a pitiless void, and I was familiar with it.
This was the place not even my nightmares dared to explore. The one place I never wanted to see again, at any cost, no matter what I had to do.
And it had claimed me.
I wanted to scream. To cry and rage and beg or simply tear myself apart if all else failed. It was a far better fate than what awaited me here.
Worse, I was even more cognizant than the last time around. My soul felt... thicker, more condensed, weightier in a way I couldn’t define. This weight let me cling to my sense of self, as corrupted and twisted as it may be.
I knew it would only make what was coming all the more painful.
I tried to prepare myself for the pain, to force my mind to welcome the slow eradication of my sanity, since it meant an end would eventually come. Yet, when I felt that hungry presence loom over me, I still tried to hurl myself away from it, like a pig frantic to escape the butcher.
It was pointless, of course.
Just like that pig, I felt bonds close around me, holding me still and pulling me closer. I couldn’t even squeal as the proverbial knife drew near. I could only wait, helpless, for the first blow, the eventual chip against the very essence of my being.
It never came.
Amidst my panic and pointless thrashing, for the first time, I felt a glimpse of... warmth.
It’s an insufficient description for what I felt, yet I have no other word for it.
It was the warmth of a gentle summer afternoon. The warmth of a cup of hot chocolate, prepared by loving hands and pushed into your own after hours of playing in the snow. The warmth of a comfy bed or bath at the end of a horrible day, when you’re exhausted and resigned and just done. The warmth of a mother gently pulling you into her embrace so she can chase the nightmares away.
I couldn’t resist it. The pain that would surely follow didn’t matter. Gradually, reluctantly, I surrendered, even as my bonds inexorably dragged me closer to the presence that had once tried to consume me utterly.
Except, this time, it was no longer so hungry, nor so cruel.
Oh, even as I sank into it, I knew the hunger was still there. The presence longed to lash out, to consume, urged on by the ravenous void within itself. Yet, none of those vicious desires were directed towards me.
Instead, it cradled and held me close, secured against all that might try to snatch me away or devour me. It sent waves of soothing emotions into me, driving out all my fear and rage until they were nothing but an unpleasant memory.
I beheld it, then, in its entirety. A twisted spiral made of countless layers, big and small, complex and simple, linked and severed. A world, a hungry beast, a mother, and so much more. Its beauty startled me into awe. Its base nature shook me to my core.
And I loved it, because it loved me in turn. Possessively, protectively, with unfailing intensity that filled my being with conviction.
Not all was well, however.
For all the bonds the presence had woven around me, there was another harness attached to my core, stretching away into the distance. It was thick and powerful and just as insistent in its claim on me.
It fought hard to tug me away, to join my soul to itself. But it did so with all the dispassionate arrogance of a bored social worker, trying to wrest a child from the hands of a loving relative because of an estranged parent. A social worker who didn’t give an inch of care about where the child might end up, or what it wanted.
And yet, the tether’s claim was strong. Strong enough to make me whimper, caught as I was between the two forces.
My new parent wasn’t going to tolerate the tug-of-war for long, though. More bonds lashed out and secured me more tightly, and then other strands of the presence manifested. These new strands sank into the foreign tether attached to me, piercing, tugging, sawing.
Pain filled me, threatening to tear me apart from the inside. I panicked. Then, some ineffable sense gave me a perfect view of my current self.
A body that dragged me down, pulling me away from the one place I felt I truly belonged.
I regained my ability to cry, and tears unabashedly streamed down my cheeks. My mouth was open in a soundless wail that slowly became audible as my lungs formed. My heart, my core, were the last to form, almost simultaneously. Then mana was coursing through my veins, sealing my fate.
My back slammed against something cold and hard, followed almost instantly by my limbs. I barely noticed. I was too caught up in the agony of existing, too angry at my pathetic body that tied me down to life and all its suffering.
Not even the discomfort that speared through me a moment later could snap me out of it. The sensation of overwhelming heat and unbearable cold all at once, of every minor ache being amplified several times over, tugged at something in the back of my mind, but I dismissed it out of hand.
All my attention was fixed on the fading impressions of that perfect moment of existence, and the faint red glow far above me. It reminded me of the Presence, of its benevolence and love, and only made me more miserable.
Gradually, I became aware of the familiar discomfort, along with other sensations. I caught snippets of voices, of sounds I couldn’t interpret in my dazed state. I made no effort to understand or react, content to be lost to the world as I was.
Maybe someone is going to kill me, or maybe I’ll just die of the cold, or heat. Then I would get to go back...
Disapproval surged in my chest, jerking me away from the idle thoughts. Though the emotion was foreign, I could recognize its source. It came from a tether connected to the center of my being, tying me to the Presence I so longed for. The message was clear: if I tried to get back through self-neglect or self-harm, the Presence would not be pleased.
But I would be there again.
Hope bloomed in me, and for the first time, I tried to move my limbs.
They were a twitching, uncooperative mess, and I only barely managed to push myself onto my side. As I blinked my eyes rapidly to get rid of the tears, the world started to resolve itself into more than just vague blurs.
The first thing I saw was red stone, cut into precise squares and adorned with fanciful demonic engravings.
Then I saw the people.
Just like me, they lay collapsed face-down on the ground. They were barely sensate and utterly naked. I recognized plenty of them, on account of the fact that I’d had a front-row seat when Mercutio decided to shorten them all by a head.
An unpleasant jolt of worry snaked through me.
I groaned and tried to move, blushing furiously at the sight of my own naked body. Apparently, I was not an exception to the general state of undress. Twitching my limbs more insistently, I struggled to recover my control over them as quickly as I could.
The sudden sound of confident footsteps added fear to my embarrassment. None of us currently lying about seemed capable of recovering so quickly from our apparent resurrections, so whoever was approaching was probably not a recruit.
Then I thought of the mutated individual who had tried to kill me, most likely on Mercutio’s orders. He was probably up and running by now. Recruits could be a threat too.
As was typical of my luck, I wasn’t even close to forcing my body into submission when the steps paused just a short distance away from me.
"You look like a mess, kid," drawled a familiar voice. "Need some help?"
Exerting all my strength, I managed to push myself onto my back so I could look up at the speaker.
There, standing in all his pinkish glory, was Bronwynn.
I didn’t expect the flood of emotions that surged through me. Regret over not being able to warn him in time. Sorrow at losing him. Profound gratitude for helping me, for giving me the information I needed, for healing my arms when he didn’t have to...
So potent was the cocktail, it even banished the lingering cobwebs of my experience in the void, at least for a while.
In the end, I could only squeak out two words in response.
"Yes, please."