Freedom. Such a simple word, yet so many took it for granted, a gift bestowed by the gods. How impactful one little word could be.
The joy of living life on one's own terms, the ability to shape one's own fate. The luxury of a full meal untainted by rot, of bathing without fear, of stepping outside without the shadow of punishment looming overhead. How much she had once taken for granted as a child.
The meadows called to her, their alluring scents dancing with the sunlight upon each blade of grass. The gentle lullaby of a flowing creek pulled at her, whispering of peace.
Yet life was cruel, uncaring. It could be taken as easily as it was given. And now, in her final moments, as the cold seeped into her bones and nature cradled her, Laverna knew she would die with a smile. Because in death, she would finally be free.
She welcomed the icy tendrils that wrapped around her frame. How she had yearned for the bitter taste of nothingness. She drifted in the empty void, the veil between life and death descending upon her. But then, something flickered.
A faint light.
Far off, from beneath a door, a soft glow called to her. It grew brighter as warmth crept over her flesh. A cloaked figure stood before her, gently pulling her forward. Bony fingers wrapped around her hand, leading her through the tunnel.
Stories spoke of death as a monster, but there was no malice in this presence. No anger. No hatred. Only love.
His black cloak flowed like water, strips of fabric drifting as if carried by an unseen wind. His skeletal face gleamed in the darkness, two empty black holes where his eyes should be. And yet, those hollow voids held neither terror nor judgment, only understanding.
"Hello," she whispered.
He nodded in acknowledgment before turning toward the door. Her ears twitched as familiar voices echoed from the other side. Her heart pounded. Could it be? Then, the sound came again, unmistakable. A gasp tore from her lips as she froze, ears straining.
"Mamma?" she choked, her voice small, fragile. She felt like a child again.
She moved forward, drawn by the laughter and warmth beyond the door. The closer she came, the more the void shifted. Stone walls took form, torches flickered to life. The cold intensified, but she didn't care. Her feet barely touched the ground as she rushed forward, desperate to reach them. To go home.
But then, she hesitated.
She had dreamed of death, but was there more for her back in the world of the living?
She had barely lived. Thrust into slavery, tormented by those who cared nothing for her. Her family was stolen. Their blood on the hands of monsters.
Pain and suffering clung to her like a second skin. And yet, she had done terrible things, too. She had taken lives. She had reveled in it. Did she deserve love? Did she deserve peace?
The thought sickened her.
Her family would want her to live. To build a life beyond suffering. To grow old, to be free. But she had never claimed vengeance on those who had destroyed her people. She had never seen the light leave their eyes, never watched them fall by her own hand. That was justice stolen from her.
Rage simmered beneath her skin.
Her mother's voice called to her.
A cold hand reached for the doorknob.
"...Fucking help me! Come on!"
The cry shattered through the corridor like a thunderclap. Panic and dread crashed into her, her fingers slipping through the handle as the wind roared from the tunnel behind her.
Heat surged through her lips.
The door was gone.
Her body was weightless, the world vanishing beneath her feet. Death caught her one last time, sorrow reflected in his empty gaze.
"I'm sorry, my child. It is not your time."
"What... What do you mean?" she gasped, but the words barely left her lips before pain consumed her.
Her body burned. Every nerve screamed. Her lungs filled with fire as her heart lurched back to life, the pounding in her chest unbearable.
Her organs, her muscles, every fiber of her being fought to reverse the grip of death. Oxygen flooded her, tearing through her like a storm.
She screamed. But no sound came.
She was trapped between the veil, suspended in agony. Floating, crying, cradled in warmth she could not see, shivering from the sheer force of it all.
Her mind swam with visions. Faces blurred, shifting between the dead and the living. She smelled blood, rotting corpses, and burning flesh.
The fear of Lichtenstein Manor clawed at her, then faded. She smelled wood, leather, something familiar. A deep, musky scent.
Him.
Panic rose, but his scent lulled her. Why?
The more her body healed, the more the images swirled. Voices echoed, but they were muffled, distant, like she was submerged underwater. The pull of both life and death tugged at her, and she no longer knew which she belonged to.
Then, silence.
She was reborn.
Awareness flooded her senses. Sounds, once distant, became deafening. The woods groaned with life. The floorboards whispered. The world was alive, and she felt every bit of it. Heat. Cold. Heat again. Her body fluctuated, unable to acclimate. Her wounds reopened, her body screaming its existence.
Then, a touch.
Soft. Gentle.
It seeped into her like light through cracks, sinking into her soul. Instead of recoiling, she leaned into it, a quiet mew escaping her lips. The warmth remained, carrying her back into sleep, allowing her body to mend. Her torn flesh stitched itself back together, leaving scars she would carry forever.
At some point, she became aware of movement. Hands tending to her wounds. Water sliding over her skin. Fresh clothes wrapped around her. She could not wake, but she felt it all. She explored the edges of her mind, watching, learning. Until she stood before herself.
She gasped, stepping back.
A soft snore reached her ears.
Turning, she saw him. The man. The strange but comforting scent. He was asleep, his body rising and falling in a steady rhythm. She moved closer, watching. He did not stir.
Sunlight peeked through the window. She reached for it.
The curtain swayed, as if reacting to her touch.
Her eyes widened.
She turned, catching a fleeting glimpse of herself, not the woman she was now, but the girl she had been. Small. Frail. Afraid. The vision flickered, her younger self reaching for her before vanishing like mist.
"What the fuck?" she whispered, looking down at her hands, sheer and ghostlike.
Instinctively, she touched her own arm.
A loud POP sent her reeling back into her body.
Her eyes flew open.
She was solid.
Relief washed over her, but as she turned toward the man, confusion settled in.
The sun was gone. The moon had risen in its place.
"What the…?" she muttered.
She had just seen the sun, hadn't she?
She slipped from the bed, her gaze locked onto him. Then, as if the world had sensed her awakening, a tidal wave of emotion crashed into her.
Overwhelming. Smothering. It buried her, sending her trembling back into the bed. Her hands clutched at her head, trying to shut it out.
She had been given another chance at life.
But at what cost?