Her first memory is rot.
There is the first breath of life into the lungs as the dark encroaches, and somehow, she can name the scent. Its cloying trace leaves bile in the back of her throat, an instinctive awareness of danger humanity passes down the generations, embedded in the marrow. Death, the word comes to her. It is a smell she will never forget, it will never leave her nose or her brain. It burns all the way down, her eyes water…and she knows that for the rest of her life, each time she thinks of the smell her brain will recall it and she will smell it all over again.
Her breath comes in rasping gasps as she becomes aware of her own hammering heartbeat. Dreaded death encompasses her like a womb, and with desperate fingers does she claw against the dark around her. The dark gives beneath her fingers, something soft and fleshy that bursts at her touch: in that hysteria, she finds purchase. She pulls at the morass that suffocates her. Kicks her legs, feels the taut pull of thigh muscles as she struggles, becomes aware of the pricks of sharpness at the soles of her feet. A short cry wrenches from her stinging lips, a bold declaration—and the dark gives.
A sudden burst of fresh air slams into her and the Life almost chokes her. She pulls free from the dark with a loud squelching noise, her arms aching with frantic clawing as she tumbles down from the flesh that encases her. She hits the bottom of the pile hard, groans into the newness with both pain and ecstasy, for she knows now what she is: alive. The word sings in her mind. She is alive and she knows, by some inherent knowledge, that this should not be but by the gods, it is. It is, and it is triumphant. As she opens her eyes and sees what birthed this new life, that triumph remains. Even as she takes in the tower of desiccated bodies she tore through, feels the bits of flesh and blood squished beneath fingers and toes, something inside of her gloats.
I am alive.
The words echo in her mind. They all but beg for release into the mountain cavern she finds herself in. She hums low in her throat, language returning to her, as her tongue tastes iron and victory. She stares into the eyes of one of the corpses beside her, takes in the half-open mouth black with rotted mold, the yellowed eyes glassy in its skull.
"I am alive," she says.
Someday, she will swear she felt the very earth quake at the power of that truth.
hi, hello, i'm back on my amalur hyperfixation! i am in love with the world/lore and the Fateless One as a character, so i anticipate this series having a major focus on those specifically. however, there is romance at certain points, and the rating for this collection will undoubtedly change as more chapters are added. not all chapters/memories will be chronological, but you can expect the first couple of them to be linked.
if you've taken the time to leaf through this, many thanks! i hope you stick around and enjoy. :)
Disclaimer: Characters and other recognizable things in this story belong to their respective copyright holders. The only things that I own are the original characters and plot of this story. I am making no money from writing this fan work. No copyright infringement is intended.