Whispers of Nowhere

Chapter Eight: Part Two

For a long time, there was nothing. Only the cold, unforgiving darkness. It surrounded her, penetrating every pore, replacing everything that made her who she was until finally, Gwenyth Lamelle was no more; only this twisted, shadowy perception of her remained. Unthinking, unfeeling—simply existing.

Then something broke through the darkness, slowly at first. Just the faintest glimmer of golden light, far beyond her reach, a mere pinprick in the ever-darkening void. The speck of light began to grow, and as it grew, the blackness surrounding it began to melt. It started from the farthest corners—if there were indeed corners surrounding her at all—and steadily moved closer, until only a pale silhouette remained; like a wispy, grey cocoon around her. In what seemed to be no time at all, that too had yielded to the radiant, golden light, thawing her from the inside out until she was brimming with its comforting warmth.

Am I dead? Is this the afterlife?

The warmth flowed into her, blossoming at her centre and pouring into each finger and toe. She became aware of a dull aching in her right shoulder, the pain pulsating up and down her arm until it was no more than an uncomfortable tingling—not unlike the kind she'd get from sleeping on one side for too long. No, she couldn't be dead. Once you were dead, you wouldn't be able to feel anything.

Right?

When she felt a feather-light touch on her collarbone, Gwen opened her eyes. Taking in the familiar tawny eyes staring back at her, she gasped. "P-Phenex...!" She jolted upward, biting back a groan as a wave of nausea roiled in her stomach, a firm hand gently pushing her back down.

"Lie still," Phenex ordered, cupping both hands over her shoulder.

Dazed, Gwen did as she was told, not understanding what was going on at first; her thoughts hazy, muddled. Slowly, her mind began to clear, glimpses of what had happened coming back to her in fragments. Her arrival in Thessaly, Forneus beside her. The monstrous horde that had ambushed them, led by the Akuma trio. Gwen running, stumbling, nearly getting trampled, the bird-like creature attacking her. And then, suffocating agony.

With an effort—and despite the warning glance Phenex shot her way—she craned her neck just enough to peer at him through the fringe of hair that had fallen across her field of vision, taking notice of the golden glow coming from his fingertips. It was then that she realized the light touch she'd felt before had been from an actual feather. A fluffy golden one, sitting just beneath his hands.

Phenex must have seen her confusion for he spoke, his tone far gentler than she'd ever heard it. "Phoenix feathers are imbibed with magical properties," he explained, returning his attention to the task at hand. "By placing them on a wound, I can heal pretty much anything, no matter how severe. The feathers act as conduits between me and whoever I'm treating, helping to focus my powers in more concentrated doses."

Settling back with her eyes half closed, Gwen surrendered to the warmth, letting the soothing, tingling sensation saturate her from head to toe. Phenex's gaze remained on her shoulder, both hands gently resting over it, golden-white light peeking between the cracks in his fingers.

The longer she stared, noticing everything from the subtle clenching of his jaw to the way he narrowed his eyes in concentration, the more surreal the whole situation became. To think that someone like him, a being capable of great feats of strength, capable of creating flames within the palms of his hands that incinerated his enemies in the blink of an eye—could also use those very same hands to do something as gentle and selfless as heal the injuries of a human like her.