Death is immortality.
Death is your second chance.
Velian Terrashine belongs to a classless society of equality, art and democracy; a land full of creativity and mindfulness. It is in that perfect political system that one wrong movement, one carele...
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MY MUD-SPLATTERED BOOTS broke the silence of the empty streets.
The more I examined the place, the more mystified I ended up getting. Some houses looked old and ready to crumble to pieces just by some sudden gust of wind, while others stood imposing, fresh-painted and totally able to be compared to the Castle of Sunlight. The gray city wasn't in utter poverty, as I'd first thought it would have been. Some gardens were embellished with blooming flowers and chirping birds flying from one tree branch to another, while others were like a haunted graveyard.
As the fresh and cold air filled my nostrils, I played back each step of the plan I was about to act upon today.
I'd spent most of my morning playing in my head every word I needed to say, every movement my body needed to make. Now that the time to put my plan into action had come—to learn about Denfer and this place as well—I fought back the urge to crawl back in bed until I was finally better. I had to work with what I had, I reminded myself. Let it be fear or determination, exhaustion combined with self-discipline. I didn't care. I just had to do something.
So I hid the umbrella I'd been using all that time behind some bushes I found outside an abandoned house—at least it looked that way.
Some reckless raindrops had already found retreat in my braided hair and I hoped my eyes looked weary enough to make everyone believe I'd just arrived here, to make them see what I needed them to see: a helpless girl that had just died and ended up lost in a world she knew nothing about.
I walked and walked and walked. Passing house after house, I surveyed the contradictions, while getting caught up in the destruction and the welfare, the melancholy and the bliss. I dared a closer look at a tower on the left side of the road that seemed impressing from a distance, standing amidst tall trees, painted green by an ancient ivy. If I hadn't slowed down, I wouldn't have noticed the wooden cartouche hanging from the front door.
You left us in winter. We'll find you in spring.
"No one lives here." A voice came from behind me, and I instantly turned around to find to whom it belonged.
The sight of a woman in her late twenties, holding the hand of another woman who looked old and wrinkled, had my blood frozen in a heartbeat. The old woman was short and that cruel stoop made her look even shorter. Dressed in total blue, her eyes were focused on the mud-filled road, as if there was no reason to look up anymore. A mourning widow, I figured.
I made myself look away from that ghost of a human. I turned to the young woman that had talked to me.
"I-I'm new here," I managed to say, willing my voice to sound trembling, my face to be soaked up in terror. It wasn't that difficult.
Not when she gave me a wistful smile, pitiful even, and gripped the older woman's wrist harder. I readied myself for the impeding storm, the earthquake, the tornado. I'd caught that glimpse of pity in her dark eyes the moment I'd declared that I'd just arrived here. I didn't want to know what she'd experienced here that had made her form that opinion for the Gap World.
