Page 23 of As Above, So Below

The first week, I never left my bed.

That’s a lie.

I did, once.

In a desperate attempt to incapacitate myself, anything to stopfeeling, I discovered the windows warded shut and the glass reinforced. Shimmering blue-silver runes created a streaming curtain over the glass and obsidian, preventing me from plunging to the rocky ground leagues below.

The rest of the week, I remained in bed, see-sawing between sobbing and sleeping. The thought of not being able to see theliving realm sent me into a dark tailspin and Iwallowed. Hopelessness smothered me. It grew in my chest, wrapped itself around my still heart, and fogged my mind.

With the second week, my despair transformed into cold fear and hot anger. I volleyed erratically between the two volatile emotions. It left me drained mentally, emotionally, and physically. Netharis’ plan of finding a position for me within the hells isn’t meant as a kindness. I’m being punished for something I have no control over.

By the third week, I became apathetic.

All those messy emotions and thoughts were swept away. Tucked into the darkest pockets of my mind where my shadows could feast upon them—where I could forget. My innate strangled them, smothered them, and left them as lifeless as I felt.

It was the end of the third week when I finally attempted to leave my room.

I’d been surprised to find my door lacking the same ward as the windows. Though it was a short-lived surprise when upon opening the door, two guards turn to stare at me. Giant, bat-like demons in black steel drew their weapons—a clear sign I was not welcome to leave.

Killing them would have been simple enough.

Answering to Netharis for their deaths would not have been.

The days and nights continued to blur together as I passed time sleeping, staring out the north facing window, or re-reading one of the few books I’d stolen from the library. I squirreled away a few titles, nothing I’d consider heavy reading, just books I simply enjoyed and didn’t want to lose.

The Elder Mythosprovided a touch of escape.

Legends and folklore on primordials, the powers before the gods who’d abandoned our realms. Some of the stories talked about lost languages, depicted runes I’ve never seen in any other title in the library, and explained in fantastical ways how the realms were created.

Eight primordials, each with an opposing force, coming together to create the living realm, the hells, the heavens, and the veil. Darkness and Light, Chaos and Order, Life and Death, and Aetherand Nether.

These entities birthed the current pantheon of gods and shaped a few of the species of the living realm. Chaos designed humans, Order contrived fae, Nether devised demons, and Aether formed nyraphim.

What I would give to see one of these primordials awake from their slumber and crush Netharis—to wipe him from existence with little effort. When I wasn’t losing myself in imaginary worlds where the primordial gods existed, my mind circled back to the events at the Moon Temple.

It’s been a month.

And I’veburnedeach moment of that night with a magnified scrutiny borne of desperation trying to understand what happened. I searched for clues, hints, signs—anything to help me leave the hells. In the end, leaving this realm would be impossible on my own.

There’s no spell strong enough, no ritual robust enough, no sacrifice sacred enough to pierce the veil against the natural flow of the realms. A god would need to intervene.

Celesta has turned my entire pitiful world upside down.

Until her meddling, existing within the living realm was nothing more than a foolish dream I kept close to my lifeless heart. An illusion I clung to when alone in the middle of the night—but now…

Now, I know it’s possible to walk among the living.

And I can’t pretend it isn’t.

Hope has taken root in my chest and, despite the darkness and shadows, begins to bloom. Whether it fractures me further or becomes the bright shining glue holding all the pieces of me together remains to be seen.

What had once felt eternally out of reach, now feels attainable—almost.

Despite the hurdles, I can’t help but dream ofliving.

No more list of names.

No more waiting for the final moments of mortals to pass.