บท 8: Her Demise
The whispers had always been soft, gentle. Their tone had always been subdued and placid like a bubbling brook.
The continuous flow of information, snippets of chatter, around Aisling never stopped. She had never had peace and quietness even when she was alone. Not since that time… However, the noise did not bother her because the whispers had become a part of her life.
But this was different.
The voices were no longer gentle. They were loud and authoritative, unrelenting. The noise was like the roaring ocean in the middle of a rough storm.
Aisling felt overwhelmed as the voices washed over her, taking over her mind, causing chaos in her very soul.
She could not think.
The voices were tearing her head apart. She wanted to cover her ears, even though she knew that it would not help. She just wanted any form of reprieve, even a useless comfort like placing her hands over her ears like a child.
But she could not move.
She was paralysed.
All she could feel were waves and waves of fire flowing into her mind, body and soul, triggering every nerve and setting it aflame. Her senses heightened, making her feel every touch of pain as her body began burning from the inside out.
The voices around her became louder and louder and louder.
And then, she heard a thumping sound like a drum, or perhaps a heart, join the cacophony of voices. The beat was rhythmic, persistent and getting louder, louder, louder
Ba-dump, Ba-dump, ba-dump…
Aisling felt a strange cold sensation around her as she laid entrapped in a prison of sounds and heat. The chill did nothing to dispel the fire burning her up. Instead, it was like ice touched her soul. The pain which had seemed unbearable rose exponentially.
And at that moment, she knew.
Her death approached. She could feel it.
The woman, who had laid on the surgical table lifelessly, suddenly rose, opened her mouth and let out a chilling scream.
The doctors, who were using extraordinary measures to cool down the unusual patient, could not believe that the woman who had seemed all but dead could open her eyes, let alone sit up and scream. They had been on the verge of giving up on her.
The doctors looked at each other in silent accord, wanting to question her about her condition while she seemed lucid.
However, before they could move or speak, their bodies lost strength, and they collapsed and fell unconscious. The curdling scream continued uninterrupted, and one by one, all the people within the military hospital collapsed.
The lights in the building flickered before the entire power system shut down.
In the distance, a tall man standing on a black tower looked in the direction of the hospital. His golden eyes glowed with a brilliant light before he stepped off the skyscraper.
Behind him, Ammon who was informing him about the progress of their investigations looked at his liege with exasperation. At the very least, he should have given a warning before leaping. He could not help thinking that Rex was becoming harder to understand.
That exit was a tad too dramatic.
Within moments, there was a streak of black and gold disappearing in the distance.
Ammon sighed. It was hard to serve the king.
For now, he needed to assemble the Cadre and discuss the case further. The Order was doing its best to handle the murder investigations. However, the centuries of peace had probably dulled the investigative senses of the soldiers.
Perhaps, the Cadre could also discuss the identity of the woman who had been spoken about in the Prophecies.
Rex had not been forthcoming about her since he had returned from the Temple of Oracles.
Aisling felt trapped in her mind even though she was conscious and screaming. She wanted to be free from the shackles of her body, but she could not.
As someone sensitive to life and death, she had always imagined her demise. She would be peaceful and walk across the veil to whatever waited for her without a fight. However, she had not imagined that it would be so painful to die.
She had also thought that she would see her death coming from afar and be prepared for it.
How foolish!
The gifts of a banshee were fickle indeed.
When her soul was stretched to the last point and about to be torn from her body, the loud whispers stopped. The sounds in her head calmed down.
And she just stopped screaming.
She sensed him before she saw him.
And she did not need the whispers to tell her.
The man who had been looking for her for months was here.
Her consumed body wanted to give out, but in an uncharacteristic manner that did not match her usual attitude of acceptance, she refused to collapse and lay down. She remained seated on that bed, her eyes fixed to the door as she waited for him.
When he stepped through the door, Aisling seemed to see black wings with a shimmer of gold disappear behind him.
But that could not be right.
The man approached her like a phantom as if he could cover the expanse of the entire room in a single step. She looked at him with shocked awe, even forgetting her pain and weariness.
The first thing that she saw was his magnetic eyes. Those orbs seemed to draw her in with their lava-like colour. The eyes seemed to lack expression, but the red flecks in the fiery irises made him seem more alive, more powerful than anyone she had seen.
She wanted to keep looking at the man, but her eyes closed of their own volition. She was exhausted and had no strength to hold on, even for another second.
Still, she had never been happier that she fought her death so hard just for a glance at the person she had felt calling her for so long.
She wondered if things would have been different if she had answered him sooner.
She laughed in her head as she collapsed back to the hospital bed. She had never questioned her decisions before because she had more than intuition. She could see the patterns of life, the threads of destiny, the flow of energy…
She always made the right call.
And the right call had been to come to Panthalassa on this day.
But why did it feel like she had lost something before she even had it?
And why did this man matter?
She did not know. But as she laid down on the bed and lost consciousness, there was a fierce unwillingness, anger and even sorrow in her.
A single tear of blood flowed out of her left eye.
Rex lifted his hand, and the lone tear rose like a blood pearl into the air. He waved a finger and the tear disappeared into an unknown place.
He stepped closer to her and looked at her skin with countless burns marring what he could imagine had been fine like silk. She did not look like she had been weather-beaten even for a single day in her life. With her silver eyes and platinum hair, she looked like some royal faerie creature, lost in the world of commoners.
He lifted a hand and touched her forehead with his index finger.
The energy which had accumulated in Aisling's body rushed to her forehead. Within a few moments, her damaged skin began healing at a visible rate. The trapped magic which had been eating her from the inside dispersed.
Before long, she was breathing evenly.
Rex looked at the sleeping face with the pouting pink lips, and a desire to smile rose within him. He wanted to smile, but it seemed that he had forgotten how.
He traced the centre of Aisling's forehead before raising his finger from her forehead.
"That should bring you more luck." The amusement in his deep voice was obvious.
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