Blizzard Preordainment

Zulema’s eye fluttered open. She awoke on the same fluffy bed of snow back inside the lonesome prison room she had just escaped from. The light filtering inside the room had gotten stronger and more vibrant. She gazed out the window and couldn't believe the sight before her. How long had it been since she'd seen the beautiful azure colors that paint the sky at dusk? Her hometown skies had always been a drab gray and were never much to talk about. It was such an uncommon sight that it felt like she had been blessed by some sort of miracle. But she knew better. The divine ray of sunshine piercing through the barred window of the door was nothing but a cruel mockery to her. Did that man do this? There's been something about him since he first emerged from the shadows that had felt off to her. Was he some sort of deity? No. There are no other gods before Macha. What if…? No. It's impossible for him to be an E-class. Those monsters are incapable of human speech. Alma mentioned someone like this once, didn't she? The last time they spoke face-to-face. Was this the same type of unnatural figure that lived out in the forest? It seemed odd to her that the Church seemingly had no knowledge of these beings. What should she do then? Play along? It seemed to be her only recourse at the moment.

As the priestess stood up, the memory that she had almost just died again suddenly hit her. That was twice now in as many days. Should she be traumatized at the ordeals she she suffered or proud that she'd survived them? It all felt like a living nightmare inflicted by malign fate. Despite her resignation, her feet once again pressed comfortably into the snow—the burning sensation completely absent as if it had never been. She looked herself over, firmly believing that her skin now looked an entire tone paler. If she were a spirit now, it would be the least of the day's surprises. The young priestess sighed, wondering of ways to reassure herself. Jokingly, Zulema placed a hand over her chest, searching for that undeniable certainty. An absolute thumping that should make anyone feel confident of their own mortality.

Panic arose in her mind. No matter how much she focused, the sound and feel of her heartbeat through her breast was absent. There was a twisting knot quickly building in her stomach. A sudden growing anxiety in her mind that she tried forcing back with all her willpower.

Don't be an idiot, she berated herself for letting such a feeling of doom cloud her judgment. It's just the cold. Your senses are dulled from the damned freezing snow. You wouldn't be alive without your fucking heart! … But how is it I haven't frozen to death yet?

The fear having died down just a bit, she sat down and hugged her knees. She continually pushed herself to be strong, for her own sake as well as her sister's. She hoped to find her way back to her eventually. And what of the church? Surely they think her frozen into an ice sculpture by now.

Oh Goddess, what if they've told Alma I'm dead? She would never forgive me. And what of Lucy? Did they save her? One can only pray for such miracles.

As she lamented over her guilty regrets, the sound of Zulema's stomach shook her out of her thoughts. She chuckled half-heartedly to herself, feeling silly over the fact that hunger meant there was still a part of her that was alive and functioning as it should. There was no longer any choice over what to do next. She jumped back up and rushed to the door, her hands wrapping around the bars in the window.

"Hey! You!" she yelled before quickly mumbling to herself. "—Shit! What was his name? It was like seven sentences long… D-Derleth! Let's talk!"

The priestess looked around the outside, wondering if he hadn't up and abandoned her there. Beyond the trees, she could now actually witness the sun setting beneath the horizon. For a second, it had left her speechless. The breathlessly celestial view was quickly blocked by the massive body of her captor.

"Has reason finally found its way to you?" he asked her.

Zulema's face pressed out between the bars. She narrowed her eyes at him and swallowed. "The only thing that found its way to me is hunger. But I might be inclined to listen to what you have to say on a full stomach."

He pondered for a moment. "Very well. Allow me to bring you something to consume."

"Not so fast. I do not take too kindly to being locked up," the priestess declared. "I would prefer to be out there, where I can see you."

The inhuman stranger looked directly into her eyes, silently threatening her with the knowledge of what will happen if she tries to escape again. He then nodded in response and unlocked the door to her icy prison.

Zulema stepped out into the light once again and looked around. "Is that your doing?" she asked, pointing to the rare twilight phenomenon.

"Does it put you more at ease?"

"It's just not something one really ever sees around here. It's beautiful—the sun especially. It is a fiery burst of madness that enraptures the sky and blinds anyone who dares cast its gaze upon it. But, is it a blessing or a warning? We're taught to revere the moons and to fear the sun. Some say it is the pure, unadulterated essence of Macha’s madness and that is why it is kept hidden from us. Common folk wouldn’t understand, but for a priestess, this is close to blasphemy. About now, I would be donning my blinder if I had it, until it had finished setting. So, no. It does not put me at ease. Far from it. And the possibility that this is your doing only diminishes my already sour opinion of you.”

Derleth uttered a grunt in response, raising a sharp, long-nailed finger and slashing the air in front of him. Enormous gray clouds converged on the horizon, shutting off the peeking azure lights and plunging the snowy forest into glittering night.

Zulema continued staring into the dark of the horizon, deep in contemplation. “But I understand it was not a gesture done in malice. Don’t assume it’s meaningless. I didn’t forget you saved my life.” She looked over to him and clapped her hands, smiling. “Well then, about that food?”