Chương 70: Fragments of Lives Gone (II)

The walk toward and over the bridge was unsettling, to say the least. I could feel the pessimistically apologetic eyes of an old man uncertain of his choices on my back and could barely feel my finger anymore, as Light had squeezed all the blood out of it. Dammit, you two! I have enough demons of my own to face without you two saddling me with yours! The closer we got to the center of the 'island,' the colder the air became. No, that's not quite right; it wasn't so much colder as it was cooler.

It was sort of like going from a city to a mountain and suddenly learning what it actually means to 'breathe fully'. Except this one went even beyond that. It wasn't just that I could breathe more easily; it was even my Qi--the gunk-addled monstrosity that cruised through my meridians—loosened up ever so slightly, and I felt that if I stayed here, I could do one circulation in approximately 4 minutes, a full two minutes quicker than I can elsewhere in the sect. Here, I am almost... average.

And yet, the terror would not go away. We paused for a moment at the very edge; it was... odd to bear witness to it from up close. The way the world almost bent alongside the rotating twirls of Qi was enlightening. It was sort of like imagining how a black hole warps space around itself, though not to such an extent, of course. I glanced down and saw a young, scared girl gnashing her teeth together in a bid to muster courage, and felt all the cowardice of my own fade.

Squeezing her hand, we took a leap of faith inward. Darkness swelled as all light vanished. I tried mustering Qi into a similar bulb of light to Elder Qin's but found it impossible to conjure up even a strand.

"Elder Lu...?" she whimpered.

"I'm here. Don't be scared." The silence and the darkness lasted for a moment longer before I could hear the distant hums churning. Like deep-bellowing drums being pounded by something immeasurably tall, the sound carried over and under, yet I could not feel any vibrations. It grew neither louder nor quieter, perfectly static in its pitch.

About thirty seconds later, I noted a mote of light emerge from the endless darkness; at first it was murky, like a globe of swamp water being rolled, but as it grew larger--no, as it grew closer —the image became clear: it was of the two of us, her tiny hand squeezing my finger, staring off into nothingness. It didn't move toward me but rather toward her; before I could react in any capacity, it drilled between her brows, and the darkness around was interrupted by a sudden burst of light.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Her skin began to glow in a rather spectacular fashion as her fingers loosened the grip on mine. In the same breath, her body began to hover, lifting up as her eyes widened and beams of light shot out of them. Holy shit! What the hell am I even seeing?! My jaw must be kissing the floor right now 'cause... well, goddamn. All the endless Jesus imagery that the movies just love being subtle about? Well, I get to live it out!...

not quite, actually. She spun and rolled forward a few times before remaining suspended midair at the seeming center of the room, limbs splayed out, head craned slightly back, her hair rather magically moving as though in water, strands trouncing about like tendrils. At the same time, hundreds of motes of light emerged from every which corner of the place, all converging toward her in arcing streaks.

I caught brief glimpses of some of them--she was riding on the top of someone's shoulders, laughing; in another, she was half-asleep, being carried to her bed; in yet another, she was crying while a torn-up arm was gently patting the top of her head... it was like I was catching fragments of her life captured in still images, telling the story of a life gone. And then, I caught a glimpse of something... else. It was a teenage boy, backpack slung across his back, hands in pockets.

Then there was another, that of a young man singing at the top of his lungs, surrounded by a sea of people coated in shadows. It was me. My life. That time I fell off the bike and scraped my knee so bad I had to go get stitches. And that time I kissed Yas for the first time and hiccupped in the middle of it, causing her to laugh harder than I had ever heard anyone laugh before or since.

And then that time we went to Barbados after saving for almost four years, and I got food poisoning the very first day there, so she spent the next five sitting by my bedside, taking care of me. Fading fragments of a life were festering into motes of light that curved slightly toward me before being pulled elsewhere. And with each one of them, I felt my heart lightening. It was as though the young girl lying suspended midair was taking away the things that used to devour me.

They weren't memories, not really--it was just still images, and if someone were to see them, they would probably have no idea what is happening. Why is that guy sitting on a couch, late at night, with no lights on, staring at the TV that wasn't on? Maybe he's sleeping with his eyes open? Or maybe he's easily entertained? That was actually about fourteen seconds after the hospital called and told me she was gone. I stared at that TV for almost an hour before Yas' mom called me to ask me where the hell I was.

All that I can remember of that night is precisely that moment--sinking into the just-recently reupholstered couch, feeling as though an invisible hand had reached into the depths of my soul and yanked whatever was in it out. Everything else... is a blank. The entire ordeal lasted for about a minute, give or take, before the motes of light subsided. At the same time, shadowed tendrils began to pour out of the pores of her skin, wiggling about like corals in the faint current.

They were leaning towards her as though begging to come back in, yet some counteracting force pushed them further and further out... until she shed them like the snakes shed their skin. Darkness surged yet again, and all I could hear was the soft sound of the beating heart. Before long, I braved the step forward and then another, quickly reaching the center just in time to see her open her eyes. They were exactly the same, if slightly lighter in hue, as was her expression.

It was as though nothing changed, and taking a peek at her status told the same story: there was literally no difference. No, wait, there is one. [Boon of Blood (???) -- an untold force remade the ancient festering curse in a manner unknown; now, dormant in the depths of the living shell, resides a force capable of forging and annihilating the worlds. Seek '????' for answers]