Good Morning, Little Ones!
Thanks to Mel and Jill!
.: Fjórir :.
Her heart is thundering so hard, she feels as if she might throw up, yet the soft call of the leather pouch is too much to ignore.
Nearly frantic with her need to uncover the mystery, Isabella slips back into the attic.
The trunk sits across the small space, inconspicuous amongst the other items, but Isabella is drawn forward, beckoned by a siren call in her blood.
With shaking fingers, she unlatches the chest and lifts the lid.
Her heart thuds anxiously when she looks at the pouch again.
Hesitating only slightly, she reaches into the chest and delicately palms the old leather. Despite the fact that it feels near ancient and should be brittle and dry, it is soft, warm even. Isabella's eyes catch faint black marks on the outside of the bag, but she has no idea what they could mean. If she's being honest with herself, it looks like some creepy hex bag you'd see in a movie, and for a moment, she wonders if she should just put it back and walk away.
Whatever is in the bag is heavy and warm in her palm, and in the end, her curiosity is too strong.
She pulls open the leather ties, the ancient animal skin flaking slightly in her palms. Inside the bag, something small, flat, and round is wrapped in a leather cloth.
Sucking in a deep breath, Isabella pulls the cloth out and rests it in her palm.
Her heart is racing, her breathing shallow as she stares at the neatly folded package.
With shaking fingers, she pulls open the first folds of the old leather cloth. Fold by fold, it comes undone until a single, perfect red gemstone is revealed. Isabella's mouth goes dry as she stares at it. It's utterly flawless and massive. It must be plastic, for how can her mother afford to have such a prize stashed in a steamer trunk in the attic? The ruby glints in her palms, and she shifts the leather cloth so that the stone slips slightly. She realizes the ruby is set in thin gold, and around the edge of the ruby, there are strange symbols etched delicately in the metal. She's never seen anything like it. The sight of the ruby burns her heart in fear and excitement, and feelings she can't name overcome her.
There is a deep thrumming in her veins, a need to reach out to touch the gemstone, to see if it is as warm against her skin as it is against the cloth.
She lifts her fingers then stops, hesitating. Fear grips her, makes her pause to consider if what she is doing is wise. She doesn't know what the pendant is, but she knows it's not anything natural.
She is about to close the cloth again when she is suddenly overcome by a boldness that does not feel entirely her own.
Taking a deep breath, her hand comes up to palm the pendant.
It burns, white hot against her skin, and she hisses as it slips in her palm, branding her. She lets it drop to the ground, but she never hears it hit the attic floor. A roaring rushing is filling her ears instead, and for a single moment, Isabella can't breathe as the very world itself seems to fold in on her, pressing her into a single point in time and space.
Then she's exploding, shattering into a hundred million stars and suns, being ripped apart by the very fabric of reality. Isabella wants to wail, but she is no longer.
…
I am nothing. My consciousness has begun to ebb apart, slipping away from itself and going back to the stars. There is peace in knowing I no longer have to struggle in my human form in my human life.
I don't understand how, but I know the universe is calling me home, and I let it.
It happens like a rope going suddenly taut; the last string of whatever connects me to my world pulls on me, and abruptly the dissolving particles of myself begin snapping back together.
It's like being crushed by a mountain and funneled through the eye of a needle. It is pain beyond imagination, far beyond what my human mind can comprehend.
My entire body is screaming, every molecule in my being radiating the immense agony, until I'm certain I will succumb to it.
I can't hear my screams, but I can feel them, vibrating through space around me, pressing against me, adding to the pressure.
Just when it's too much, when I know I'm going to die, my body jolts together, and I am snapped like a rubber band.
I can't breathe, can't move. My whole body is shaking, so far beyond my control, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to stop again.
Very slowly, I become aware of the soft dirt below my palms, the clean, fresh scent of dewy earth as it presses against my face.
I lie face down in the dirt, waiting for my soul to feel secure in my own body again.
It takes hours, or maybe minutes; I do not know.
Eventually my fingers twitch in the earth, and I am able to curl in on myself, pulling myself together. I don't know how I've managed to get outside, what's just happened to me, or when it had time to get dark. I simply cannot think.
I am moments away from giving up trying to sort out anything and succumb to my desire to sleep under the trees when quiet footsteps send my heart into a panic.
I am a raw nerve, frazzled and frayed, and I can hardly take anymore.
The scrape of careful footfalls against dried leaves lodges my heart into my throat. I don't know if this person is here to harm or help me, but I'm terrified to find out.
Forcing myself together, I pull myself to my feet, realizing that I'm not wearing any shoes.
My body is shaking, barely functioning, and I have to lean on the tree for support.
Another footstep, and I take a chance.
"Hello!" I call out, my voice raspy. "Please, is someone out there? I need help!"
I wait, hating the frail thinness of my own voice.
I'm about to call out again when a beast of a man steps through the trees and all the air is forced out of my lungs.
He's massive, more massive than any man I've ever seen. It's too dark to see his face, but I have a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that I have found no friend in these woods.
"Hverr eru þú!" he shouts, his voice a bearish growl. I stare at him, unsure if I have suffered brain damage in whatever has just happened to me. Why can't I understand him? "Hverr eru þú!" he repeats.
I shake my head.
"Please, I…" I pause, the words dying on my lips as the man produces a big, curved axe from his back. The wicked blade winks in the thin moonlight, and my whole body turns ice cold.