Taylor just wants her mom to come back home.
Chapter Text
Taylor panted heavily, shivering, shuddering, shaking.
The tremors rocking through her body nearly dislocated joints and broke bones.
With a long, wretched, agonized cry, she slammed the knife into the chest of the eighth man she had laid out. Immediately, bile rose in her throat and for the eighth time this night, Taylor swallowed it back down. She couldn't stop her sobbing though, and sob she did. Tears streamed down her face and her entire body burned with the agony of exertion. She had been practicing for months now, getting things prepared, getting everything together, all of it for this one night. She shuddered and twitched, her movements hardly her own at this point but they did not rebel against her intention, they assisted her, they moved her, they guided her ever onwards to her goal. On shaky legs, Taylor wobbled slowly towards the final sacrifice. Soaked in blood, eyes wide, knife in hand.
Eight dead. One more to go. Eight dead. One more to go.
Eight dead. One more to go. Eight dead. One more to go.
Eight dead. One more to go. Eight dead. One more to go.
Eight dead. One more to go. Eight dead. One more to go.
The voice echoed inside of Taylor's skull.
She had come too far to stop now, even if she wanted to the strings on her soul would not allow it. So, Taylor gave her ninth and most guttural cry of the night driving her knife into the heart of the last man at the circle of the array drawn in ash and blood.
For just one moment, nothing happened. Just one moment.
Then, the world went silent. Completely, utterly, deafeningly silent. Not a sound. Not the waves in the bay, not the skittering of mice in the warehouses, not even Taylor's own wretched sobbing and whimpering.
Taylor's body twisted and broke as she was yanked outside of the array by all her limbs, breaking them all. They immediately fixed themselves but the pain was there, the pain was real. Despite it all, Taylor could not let herself fall and so, she didn't. She stood outside the array she had drawn out and sacrificed nine souls of nine vile men, their bodies intact aside from the single knife-wound on their chests. Taking a deep breath in, Taylor said the name of the thing. Her mouth pooled with blood but she just gurgled and spoke through her, making her request in a tongue that would leave her deaf for days and mute for weeks.
It hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt. It burned at the very essence of Taylor's being and frayed her existence.
Yet as soon as the last intonation left Taylor's lips, it was all so extremely worth it.
The nine corpses all burst open, their chests filled with an endless array of flowers that twisted and turned in the air. The bones from the men slipped out of their bodies, crumbling to dust as they went. Then, the nine boneless corpses all smashed into the center of the array, meat gurgling wetly, grotesquely growing, shrinking. It squirted out the blood, black bile, yellow bile, and phlegm from each man in a rank, reeking mess all over the floor. Taylor raised her hands to her face, clasped directly under her nose. Two silver rings, one on each pointer finger. She kept the position as she panted and stared at the sight of it arriving.
The flesh warped into the shape of a stork that spread it's wings out before simply instantly collapsing into blood. Blood that pooled together and rose into the vague shape of a man, if a man was more head than the rest of their body and covered in growths like the flowers that had earlier bloomed.
The figure raised it's hand and gave a wretched, horrible, gurgling laughter.
Then it just vanished.
None of the blood remained.
More importantly Taylor quickly turned and saw the slightest twitch in her single greatest creation.
The Maiden.
It took the shape of a woman, sleek if not impossibly large. Nine feet tall, made of silver. It was smooth, nearly featureless, with subtle curvature of it body giving it a feminine aura. Dainty, pointed feet, slim calves swelling out into thicker thighs that joined with wide hips before again slimming down for the figure's stomach. The swell of it's chest was small, not excessive, but not subtle either. It's arms were long, slim, silver things that ended in perfectly detailed hands that looked seamlessly, flawlessly like a human's hands had been cut off, dipped in silver, and then attached. It's face was everything Taylor had hoped it would be. Delicate lips and a cute nose Taylor could have recognized anywhere. It's eyes upwards were capped with a crown for now, one that hid it's upper face and top of it's head entirely. The crown itself was a towering thing that was a foot and a half tall in addition to the woman's height, spires of silver standing straight like swords towards the heavens, each filigreed lovingly and the base of each spire decorated with a large perfectly spherical pearl that caught the light magnificently. The Maiden was dressed in what could generously be called a dress, made of fine black silk that draped on it's body, wrapping around it's torso an endless number of times to provide a modicum of decency.
Taylor ran directly into the arms of The Maiden and hugged it close, sobbing and wailing against it's chest. The Maiden slowly stirred to life and returned Taylor's hug with loving gentleness.
"... Taylor...?" It's voice rasped quietly unused for months on end. At age 9, just shy of her 10th birthday, Taylor Hebert resurrected her mother.
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