ELDRITCH NIGHT (Rough Draft)

Chapter 44: A Pound of Flesh

I expected to wake to the grey confines of a Peacekeeper prison. Instead, I found that I was still trapped under a sky filled with winding golden runes. Behind the runes, black clouds spun in a turbulent sky full of crackling flickers punctuated by booming thunder and the stabbing blades of crimson lightning. The wind had quieted into a cold but gentle breeze that caressed my face like silk and filled my nose with a scent reminiscent of freshly mowed grass.

I focused on the calming scent before turning my mind towards making sense of the situation. I closed my eyes and focused on what had happened.

My meditation was interrupted by a sharp pain that prevented me from taking deep breaths. My lungs burned, and my breathing was labored and uneven. I could feel my heart racing and sweat poured down my face despite the cool air and my own lack of exertion.

I swallowed and let out a gasp of agony. My throat burned and felt as if it were raw from gargling with shards of broken glass. I tried to push myself up, but the entire right half of my body was numb and unresponsive. My left arm was weak but I could move it. I sluggishly raised it above my face and stared at my own bruised knuckles for a second before letting the hand fall and come to a rest on my brow.

My arm slowly slid down my body to lay once more on the grass beside me, and I realized that nothing was covering me. My clothes, or at least my shirt, were gone. There was no translucent face mask, and the black armor no longer surrounded me.

The armor was not the only thing missing.

I remembered being surrounded by dirt after being forced into the ground by an overbearing pressure, yet I was somehow lying here on flat earth with nothing pressing down on me. Someone had helped me reach this point, but no one seemed to be around.

Had they just left me here to die?

I struggled to lift myself and cried out, but my voice was weak and hoarse. I only had the strength to grunt out a few short syllables, my words barely articulated and quickly swept away by the gentle susurrus of the calm spring breeze.

"Water, please..." I croaked. "Wa..." I struggled to push myself up with my left arm, but I lacked the strength to even roll over. I pushed up with my elbow and managed to lift my head and one shoulder for a moment. My strength was short lived, and I quickly fell flat on my back once more.

"Do not worry, Finn," said a voice that was my father's but also something more. "You are never alone. Not from now till end. Universes still unborn shall not outlive our song."

"Fisher," the word was nearly soundless and half-formed, but words were hardly needed. "Wa—" even as I began to ask two cupped hands parted my lips and a trickle of water flowed over my tongue. It was spectacular, like the sweetest thing I had ever tasted.

"You're broken, Finn," the Fisher said. "You gave too much for naught; the Devil, his due has taken." The creature paused for a moment while it fed me another mouthful of water. "Flesh has been rent. And we, cast off like detritus, foul and abandoned."

I held the water in my mouth for a moment, letting it seep into a parched tongue and cracked lips. I closed my eyes and swallowed the water. I took in a few slow and shallow breaths and I began to feel stronger and more lucid with each exhale.

It wasn't strength I was looking for, however, but courage.

I hesitated for a moment, but I finally commanded the Fisher to confirm my suspicions. I knew, but I had to see it for myself. "Show me," I said.

The creature did not share my hesitation and it quickly overwhelmed my senses with its own. The sensation was disorienting at first as conflicting images overlapped and overwhelmed my vision with hazy forms and blinding light. It was dizzying, but the feeling quickly passed.