In memoriam
She dreamed that night.
It was the same place she remembered, that she had visited many nights before, but when she opened her eyes this time, she was alone. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself. She looked around, waiting for someone to rush forward and greet her. No one was there. The junkyard was still and even the guard's post by the gate was abandoned.
She reached out a hand and traced the grain in the wooden door. In all her visits, she had never returned to the city. She jumped back when the door gave way under her fingertips, soundlessly swinging open. Beyond, she could see the second set of gates already hanging open, a wide hole left where the colossus had once stood.
She carefully stepped forward through the doors, still shivering slightly. A sense of trepidation passed through her as she walked under the second gate. The city within was just as empty as the lands beyond. Her feet led her down deserted streets, doors left gaping open and blank windows watching on either side. The houses cast long shadows over the streets in the setting sun, and the darkness was still. The air was cold, colder than she could remember. A harsh wind blew down the street, straight through her thin nightgown, and she huddled further into herself. Shutters banged back and forth and doors slammed into walls. The sounds echoed hollowly around her.
The castle at the center of the city guided her steps, looming grimly. As she dragged her way towards it, a sick, twisting feeling filled the pit of her stomach, growing worse as she approached. Too soon, she stood at the bottom of the steps, her feet covered in the dust of the streets. She slowly ascended and entered the castle, past the heavy chained doors that hung open for her.
The years since she had been there had reduced the corridors leading to the throne room to a blur in her mind, but her feet knew which way to go. Faster now, her bare feet collided with the cold stone floor, stirring up dirt and straw and feathers. The halls were narrow and her breaths were short and shallow, squeezing past the tightness in her throat. Over the harsh sounds she made, she heard faint whispers echoing off the stone.
The hallway ended and she stopped abruptly outside the doorway. She didn't want to go in. She suddenly knew, whatever she had been rushing towards, she didn't want to find out. She didn't have to go on. She could just – walk away – and never know.
She tried to turn, tried to step away, but she couldn't make herself leave. Closing her eyes, she let out a long, slow breath. It was too late. She couldn't avoid this. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, eyes burning, she stepped into the room.
It was almost empty, but she was not relieved. Dust and dirt lay thick on the floor, coating the stone and the debris left about. In the center of the room, in the pit, stood a solitary candle on a tall stand. It was nearing its end. Wax had dripped over its remaining length, covering the stand, reaching the floor. She could feel herself shaking, from more than the cold. There was something wrong here. She stepped forward again, making her way to the candle. The flame was struggling, flickering in the wind that made its way in from the window, nearly sunk in its own wax. She leaned in closer, tilting her head. If she looked at it this way, she could almost see…
There was a noise behind here, a shuffling in the dirt, and she spun around, heart in her throat. At first glance, there was nothing there, but when she was about to turn away again – there! A shadow, in the corner of her eye. She whirled to find it, but it ran across the room, faster than she could follow. Another dashed in the opposite direction before fading away. She realized she could hear the whispering from the hallways again, faint, but growing louder. More shadows appeared, chasing each other around the edges of the room, all too indistinct to recognize. She tried to look everywhere at once to catch any one of them, but they spun around her too quickly. The whispering built until she could almost make out the words.
Shadows filled the room now, gaining substance, and in their movements she could see bits and pieces that stirred her memories – a stray lock of hair, the edge of a cape. By the nearly forgotten throne, she caught the gaze of a pair of eyes and froze in shock. They were knowing, laughing at her – then one of them winked, and they disappeared.
The candle next to her extinguished itself in an audible gust that spread across the room like ripples in a pond. The shadows disappeared, blown apart, the shredded pieces sinking into the walls. The room was dark, so dark. The sun had set and the only light came from the moon outside.
Sarah remained frozen until, in a flutter of wings, a dark shape lifted itself from the throne and flew out the window. She ran after it, leaning half out of the window to catch a glimpse. The moon hung heavy in the sky and as the shape flew over it, it was suddenly and fully eclipsed, leaving nothing but a burning rim. One by one, stars appeared in the sky, shining as dark as the covered moon.
Behind her, the whispers continued, and she could finally hear what they said.
"The king is dead," they whispered.
"The king is dead,"
"The king is dead,"
"The king is – ",
"Long live – "
A/N: With inspiration from the Blackstar video. Took a couple days to pull this together. Still very much not over it. Rest in peace, David Bowie. You are missed. Thank you for everything.