Waking

Sleep came and went but rest stayed hidden like a thief in the night. No matter how much Sayane drifted through dreams, she never awoke feeling nourished or ready to move. In her heart, she knew it was because every time she woke, there was a brief prayer that a different view would greet her. When it was the same room in Azag’s safe house, her heart would then pivot to wishing she would simply stop waking.

Death felt more desirable than this new reality she had been flung into. Mornings brought mourning. Mourning for the life she lost. For the life she never had. For the goodbyes to the handful of people she’d ever managed to cherish. For the unmended wounds with her family. For the failure of her career and the cruel end it led to.

Mourning became her default emotional state. After existing in this new world for a week, Sayane finally felt a shift into acceptance. Try as she might, she was not waking from this dream.

As she lay in bed and let the grief and acceptance enfold her, she would occasionally feel the soft fur of Fuzzy beside her.

His name was Attis. It took a few days, but she did eventually remember that.

Feeling his fur rise and fall as he slept in a ball beside her did manage to give her a bit of peace. Still, between Azag’s silent watching from the shadows and Attis’s quiet slumber at her side, Sayane found herself wondering if she was being guarded or watched.

She hoped it was guarded.

Strange is this place and its crowds of mystical creatures was, Sayane did not feel in danger in their midst. Outside, in the open world at the mercy of whatever The Silence was, that felt dangerous. Here in Azag’s safe house, she believed she was safe.

Perhaps that was the other reason her body was forcing her to rest. Her bed was moderately comfortable, strange yet nourishing food was brought to her twice a day along with drinks, and she had privacy when needed. In the absence of anything needed of her, perhaps her body was finally accepting that it could take a few days off after years of struggle.

So she slept.

Sayane slept and slept until it finally began to feel unpleasant. Nearly two weeks after arriving in the safe house, Sayane’s throbbing knee pain had reached a level that made it impossible to lay still for any longer. The enormous beast’s simple squeeze on her leg had damaged something that was not mending.

As Sayane sat up and dared to finally leave her bed, she felt a flutter of nervous curiosity. This room had thus far been the only aspect of Azag’s safe house that Sayane had seen. Now, as bare feet stepped forward on cold stone, Sayane was ready to see what was beyond her walls.

Sliding the opaque curtain away revealed a low lit hallway that was currently devoid of any populace. Sayane had no way of knowing what time of day or night it was, but she wondered if the rest of the world was asleep.

Thinking so made it easier to move forward in silence. Limping steps led Sayane down the hall and towards a large, round opening. It was a doorway. Stepping through revealed a large, cavernous room lit with ethereal pulsing beams of dingy light. Neon-like glows shined down from around the rounded space, revealing the workings of something similar to a pub.

Snaking cables hung from the ceiling, drifting between strange banners like arteries. They fed their way up to enormous tanks that hung from the ceiling scaffolding. Walls of signage and vials and pumps told Sayane that this was the tavern space.

As Sayane limped through the space, she noticed a single open door along the back of the tavern wall. Upon getting closer to the opening, Sayane felt a slight breeze against her ankles. She wanted to call out if anyone was there, but her raw throat kept her from speaking at any audible volume.

Beyond the whispers of a draft grazing along her legs, Sayane felt as though she heard something else in the near darkness that awaited beyond the door.

Though it was hard to see, faint glows of ambient light told Sayane that she had stepped outside. Even though they were subterranean, she could feel natural moisture in the air and scents of moss on stone. Metal steps led down from the building and further into the darkness.

Now Sayane could fully hear the waterfall. That was the other sound. Faint flickers of cascading water were visible as the flow caught stray beams of light. It was a small waterfall, but Sayane could feel its cool even from several meters away.

It was still quite dark, so Sayane did not notice the clothing, mask, or two strange walking sticks that were on a nearby rock. She mistakenly thought she was alone until the waterfall’s pool began to ripple.

Just as she was nearing the water’s edge, the figure rose from the ripples. Its back was to Sayane, and the noise of the water had hidden her approach. The figure was bony, angular, lean, and intimidatingly foreign. Bends of bony protrusions jutted out from glistening skin. Folds of scarred flesh curved along joints and sockets.

It wouldn’t have known it was no longer alone in its bath had it not been for Sayane’s shocked screech as she realized someone had risen before her.

Azag flinched in surprise and immediately held his arms and hands to shield his unseen face.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry. Please, look away, songstress,” he said.

Sayane turned away and began to rush back towards the steps she had come from, but just as she reached the damp steps, her wounded knee betrayed her, and she slipped down onto the stone with a painful cry.

It sent hysteria coursing through her veins. This place was strange. This creature was strange. None of this felt right. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t be here.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been here. I shouldn’t be here,” she cried.

Behind her, the figure that was Azag had lifted himself from the bathing pool and was scraping his uncovered body dry with haste.

“Are you hurt?” Azag nervously asked between what sounded like strained breaths.

“Yes. My leg. My leg got hurt and never got better…” she cried once more.

There was a clicking noise as Azag returned the mask to its place over his face.

“I’m very sorry. I’m sorry to have frightened you, songstress. I’m very sorry if you saw anything,” he said softly.

Sayane misunderstood in the moment and thought he was speaking of modesty.

She shook her head and grimaced as she tried to stand. Then his large, gloved hand was there, offering aid.

“Here, let me help you,” he said.

There was a pause. Looking up at his large silhouette, Sayane could see nothing of detail in the low light beyond his glowing eyes. It was intimidating and imposing, but once more, he still felt safe to her. Taking his hand, Sayane felt a slight pulse of calm drift through her body. Neither of them said anything else as he slowly escorted her back to the tavern.