The Dark Grows.
Darkness has a taste, a bitterness.
A loneliness that comes from stifling your senses, one by one.
First, your vision goes. Everything is gone, black, nil.
At first, you think,
'This is okay. I remember what the light looked like.'
Until you forget what light is.
When you forget, that's when panic sets in.
What do I look like? Where is everyone? Why am I here, in darkness, alone?
What if
there's
no
way
out
ever?
And then, at once, you lose your mind. Your hearing plays tricks on you.
Was that a sound?
Is someone there?
No, no, nobody's there. I'd know if someone was here.
I'd feel their presence.
But then you remember, if you can't trust your sight or your ears, what can you trust?
Everything feels numb.
The stone floor may not be a stone floor, it may be a box, or a coffin.
Am I dead?
Is that why no one has returned for me?
Is that what happened?
That little tiger killed me.
The little brat didn't capture me. I must have died, and this is some sort of hell.
All I have to live on is the memory of the fires that day, the smell of the smoke in the air.
The screaming of those sycophants.
Nothing to smell here but damp and mildew, the occasional frost.
Gods, I should have killed that child.
She will grow to be the spawn of those mages, a leader of death and ignorance.
I taste the bitterness of darkness as it settles on my tongue, before shivering and curling up further.
I have no idea what time it is, what day it is, what month. What year.
How long have I been here?
How long will I have to wait?
YOU ARE READING
The Spark That Ignites the Dawn
FantasyIn a fictional world of Russia and magic, a young woman is captured by an immortal god. Marya is the last koldunya, a powerful sorceress lineage that was decimated by the hatred in her land towards magic. With most of her family killed in the mage...
