DELPHIA
She had not slept a minute. The Daughter of Death, as calm and collected as she usually was, had been shaken to her resurrected soul but the word and feelings imparted by the spirit of the Ascended she had stolen from the Voice. She had seen and helped tortured souls before, addled and shaken by their lives or deaths or Cat Sith, she had felt a great number of dead at once before too. But this? It had been beyond anything she had ever known. This spirit had been more than tortured, they had been nearly snuffed out like an ember, smothered over the centuries, pulled to her only through luck and grit alone. And behind them? The sheer mass of souls, so crammed together they nearly melded into one?
She had not walked to the shrine, she ran.
As she skidded to a halt in front of the statue meant to depict her father, her lungs burned as her breath came short, the lingering scent of spices and cedar clinging to her clothes. ”Father! I must speak with you at once, please!” she called, a slight tremble in her voice as her legs and arms trembled from exhaustion.
She had not walked to the shrine, she ran.
As she skidded to a halt in front of the statue meant to depict her father, her lungs burned as her breath came short, the lingering scent of spices and cedar clinging to her clothes. ”Father! I must speak with you at once, please!” she called, a slight tremble in her voice as her legs and arms trembled from exhaustion.
Here in the forest dark and deep
I offer you
Eternal Sleep
