araavib - Tumblr blog

araavib · 6 months

Text

CHAPTER ONE

In the quiet void of Ellowyn's consciousness, a hazy awareness began to merge. Colors, distorted and unfamiliar, bled into focus. A forest loomed around her, a sinister performance of nature's serenity. The trees, stoic guardians, were not the verdant pillars of life but solemn shadows clad in blackened bark. They stood tall, their branches like gnarled fingers clawing at the bone-white sky that cast an eerie, pallid light upon the landscape.

Beneath her, the ground cradled her form with an unfamiliar softness. Beige grass, gentle as a sigh, cushioned her every movement. It was a peculiar hue, caught between the melancholy of forgotten dreams and the muted glow of a realm caught between reality and unreality.

With uncertainty knotting her brow, Ellowyn took a cautious step forward. The air, thick with an otherworldly hush, carried the scent of ancient moss and distant whispers. But her movement was met with an abrupt intrusion—a deafening cacophony of rushing water assaulted her senses. In panic, she clutched her ears, a reflex against the assault, and a startled yelp escaped her lips.

As abruptly as it had begun, the deafening deluge ceased. Silence enveloped her once more, save for the mournful howling of the wind that now seemed to dance with greater intensity. Ellowyn's breath hitched in her throat, her pulse racing as she dared to look around. The sky, once bone-white, had intensified into a blinding brightness, an unnatural glare that illuminated the ominous forest with a ghastly sheen.

With each step, the world around Ellowyn seemed to shift, its very fabric manipulating her senses. A haunting trickle of water, like spectral whispers, danced around her ears. Her heart pounded like scared prey, forewarning of the impending torrent. And then it came again, an unrelenting roar that stole her breath, leaving her grasping at her chest, throat constricted in a phantom grip.

She became aware of the chill seeping through her skin, realizing for the first time that her body was damp. A pale gown, once dry and pristine, now clung to her like a second skin, and her tousled blonde hair stuck to her face in damp tendrils. The forest seemed to weep with her, drops of water hanging like mournful tears from the blackened branches overhead.

She shivered, not just from the wet chill, but from a bone-deep confusion that wrapped around her like a constricting fog. The ground beneath her, once a comforting embrace, now felt foreign and uncertain. She looked down at herself, fingers tracing the damp fabric of her gown, a simple reminder that nothing here made sense.

And then, like a distant memory, a voice shattered the strange serenity. “"Ellowyn!” The scream cut through the air, agonizing and mournful, a plea laden with desperation. For a fleeting moment, it felt like the echo of a time long gone, a familiar chord striking a dissonant note in the symphony of the unreal. But as quickly as the cry had come, it vanished, leaving only the eerie stillness in its wake.

Confusion etched across Ellowyn's features, her brows knitting together as she nervously scanned the bizarre landscape. The trees stood silent and unmoving. There was an unsettling quiet, broken only by the persistent howling of the wind.

A sudden, thunderous roar shattered the fragile calm. Ellowyn's breath caught in her throat, and her eyes widened in awe and trepidation. The trees ahead of her parted like curtains drawn in a grand revelation. And there, bathed in an ethereal white glow, stood a colossal tree—a living monument.

It stood at the heart of the forest, an ancient giant bathed in a radiant white glow that shimmered like ethereal moonlight. Its trunk, colossal and gnarled, bore markings that seemed to shift and writhe like living tattoos, telling stories of ages long past. Branches, thick and sinewy, extended outward, their tips adorned with ghostly, luminescent leaves that danced in an unseen breeze.

She hesitated, uncertainty playing across her features. The invitation hung in the air, palpable yet intangible. It beckoned her forward, whispering promises of answers to the questions that swirled in her mind like the restless wind. Ellowyn swallowed hard, the weight of the unknown pressing against her chest. And though fear clung to her like the dampness on her gown, she felt an inexorable pull. A breath escaped her lips, a mingling of fear and a strange exhilaration as she dared to approach the colossal trunk.

As she neared the tree, its roots sprawled wide and vast, like ancient serpents slumbering beneath the earth. Some were thick as barrels, their surface etched with strange symbols that seemed to shimmer and shift, telling tales of forgotten epochs. Ellowyn navigated the tangled maze of roots, some rising like colossal walls that forced her to clamber over, their gnarled surfaces cool against her touch.

With each step closer, a strange sensation coursed through her—whispers, fragments of voices, a disjointed chorus of memories that flickered and vanished like ghostly phantasms. Her heart raced, a mixture of fear and exhilaration pounding in her chest. The voices felt familiar yet distant, leaving her breathless as they teased at the edges of her consciousness.

The tree itself was a marvel. Its colossal trunk stretched skyward, adorned with twisting, sinewy branches that arched overhead like skeletal fingers embracing the heavens. Leaves, ghostly and luminescent, shimmered like flickering stars caught in a perpetual dance.

As Ellowyn finally reached out, her fingers grazed the weathered bark. An electric surge jolted through her, a symphony of images flashing before her eyes—a kaleidoscope of memories and whispers that left her gasping for air, an intoxicating rush of familiarity and uncertainty.

The scenes unfolded around her—a vivid mosaic of places and faces, each glimpse leaving a lasting impression on her soul. Familiar voices echoed in her mind, laughter and conversations intertwining with secrets and promises. Shadows danced on the forest floor, casting cryptic patterns that seemed to echo the enigmatic symbols adorning the tree.

As Ellowyn touched the glowing tree, a cascade of memories enveloped her, pulling her into the recesses of her past. The first vision that surfaced was of Marlowe, the sister who had raised her and shared the weight of their parents' absence. She stood in Ellowyn's mind like a vivid painting—a doll-like figure with light brown locks that framed her round face, her eyes a piercing green that sparkled with warmth and mischief. The memory of her sister's laughter echoed through Ellowyn's thoughts, a comforting melody that had always been a balm to their shared sorrows.

Another scene flickered before her eyes, a memory of their modest room where Marlowe, as a teen, sat at the edge of their bed. With nimble fingers, she sewed away at one of Ellowyn's raggedy dresses, her words a steady hum of encouragement. “Beauty runs in the family,” Marlowe had said with a grin.

The warmth of Marlowe's presence lingered in the room, a cocoon that shielded Ellowyn from the harshness of the world outside. The texture of the fabric, the rhythmic sound of the needle piercing through, and the comforting touch of her sister—all merged into a delicate facade.

Yet, another memory unfurled—a shared evening by the fireplace. Ellowyn and Marlowe sat on either side of Ms.Sontez, a woman who’d saved them from the streets or worse. The room flickered in the warm glow of the flames, casting dancing shadows on the walls. The three of them huddled together, Ms. Sontez reading tales of saints and folktales from a worn, bound book.

In the memory, she felt the crackle of the fire, the comforting weight of the book in her hands, the texture of the rug beneath her fingers. Marlowe's voice joined Ms. Sontez's, her curiosity ringing clear as she questioned the stone face woman. “But they're beasts?” Marlowe had asked, pointing to the creatures in the story.

“Humans can be beasts too,” replied Ms. Sontez, her words hanging in the air like a revelation.

A stinging pain cut through Ellowyn like a lash, a searing sensation that snatched her breath away. The once-vibrant tree erupted into chaos, a symphony of roars and creaks, its branches snapping like brittle bones and crashing to the forest floor with resonating thuds. The very ground beneath her shook as if protesting the violence above.

Her gaze darted upward, and dread coiled in her chest as she beheld a grim transformation—the tips of the once luminous branches, now tinged with an ominous blackness. The radiant glow that had once enchanted her now dissipated into a murky haze, an unsettling mist that enveloped the canopy above.

Panic surged within Ellowyn, a wild fluttering in her chest as she cast her eyes downward. The roots, once lifelines anchoring the colossal tree, had transformed—a creeping darkness, like a sinister ink spill, slithered along the once vibrant roots, inching closer to where she stood.

Confusion etched lines across her face as fear took hold, gripping her tightly. Her breaths came in ragged gasps as the stinging pain lanced through her, triggering an onslaught of memories that cut deeper than any physical wound.

New memories flooded in, but these were ones she’d forgotten, ones she’d wish they'd remained as so. She felt the heat of flames licking at her skin, a terror that gripped her soul as she recalled the day fire consumed her home, Nivia. The screams of people in agony echoed in her ears, the acrid scent of smoke suffocating her senses. Panic clawed at her chest, stealing the air from her lungs.

One particular memory stabbed through the chaos—Marlowe's ten-year-old face etched with fear and determination. Ellowyn remembered how her sister had shielded her from the horrors, dragging her through the chaos, stumbling over bodies in a desperate bid to escape the relentless onslaught. The image of Marlowe's frightened eyes, her trembling hands trying to shield Ellowyn from the devastation, haunted her like a relentless specter.

It was a harrowing choice—surviving while being forever haunted by the tormented memories or succumbing to the terror and anguish, forever buried in the tragedy.

Amidst the chaos of the giant tree's groaning and the shuddering forest, a voice—clear, crisp, yet oddly serene—whispered in Ellowyn's mind. “If death were my friend, it'd forgotten me,” it said, accompanied by the distinct sound of a coin being flipped. She could almost feel the metallic ring as it spun through the air.

As the cacophony of the colossal tree continued, the voice persisted but now outside her head, behind her. “Amidst the fray where innocence did fade,” it intoned, cutting through the turmoil with a poetic cadence. Ellowyn pivoted on her heels, and there he was—a young man, not much older than herself.

He stood with an air of nonchalance, catching the coin in midair and flipping it onto his palm. “Saints,” he muttered to himself, glancing down at the coin with intrigue, then whipping his head up in surprise as if discovering something unexpected.

The young man's appearance seized her attention. His hair, a cascade of black waves that fell in artful disarray, curled at the ends as though reluctant to conform to order. Light brown eyes, a captivating hue, held a glimmer of something indefinable—perhaps curiosity, perhaps mischief. Two birthmark dots adorned his right cheek, a subtle mark that added to the enigma of his presence.

His attire, a testament to refined taste, bore the mark of careful craftsmanship—a tailored suit that draped him in sophistication, accentuated by the cloak's intricate designs. The fabric whispered of secrets, a realm where elegance met obscurity. The patterns seemed to shimmer, each thread holding a pinch of gold.

The young man's sudden appearance, his cryptic words, and the effortless grace with which he handled the coin left Ellowyn bewildered. The forest seemed to hold its breath, as if awaiting the next act in this play.

As the young man surveyed the surroundings, his eyes moved with a sense of wonder and intrigue. They scanned the heavens, the ominous blackness of the forest, and finally settled on the giant tree, its once radiant glow now fading, its branches withering in a silent demise. Ellowyn watched, a silent observer in this surreal encounter, waiting for him to break the uncanny silence that enveloped them.

He navigated the tangled roots with a deliberate grace, echoing her own path moments earlier. “Interesting,” he murmured to himself as he closed the gap between them.

Her eyes lingered on the giant tree, a behemoth that seemed to fade into darkness. Gently, she withdrew her hand from the trunk, a silent question forming on her lips. “Am I—”

Before she could finish, he interjected with an unexpected certainty, “Dead? Yes, my condolences.”

She stood there, lips firm, in a moment of shock. Even as his hand reached out to touch one of her wet strands, studying it with wide eyes, she remained rooted in place. His lip curved upward ever so slightly, a small sign of amusement or perhaps intrigue. She tried to steady herself, studying him with the same scrutiny he had applied to her.

But as the young man's fingers danced through her damp locks, a steadiness settled within Ellowyn. Her gaze remained fixed on him, her eyes betraying neither fear nor curiosity, instead silently contemplating the strangeness of the encounter.

A shift in the air caught her attention, drawing her gaze past the young man. The encroaching darkness seemed to slow, the chaos around them retreating into an eerie stillness once more. It was an uncanny phenomenon that held her transfixed, an inexplicable pause in the otherwise tumultuous scene.

Her focus then shifted to his fingers, still lightly toying with her wet hair. “How?” she questioned, her voice a whisper amidst the unsettling calm that enveloped them. He released her hair, gesturing with a wave of his hand toward the surrounding strangeness. “With the help of a Tuerji, clever beings,” he explained with a chuckle.

Ellowyn's head slightly shook in disbelief. “Are you death?” she ventured, her voice trembling with a mix of uncertainty and curiosity. His response came with a smile, revealing small canines. “I'm no saint. I'm sure you know Onereh to have the head of a vulture,” he mused, gesturing toward his own face. “This one is all mine.”

In a weary gesture, Ellowyn pushed the young man's hand away gently, a question burning in her eyes. He sighed, sliding his hands into the pockets of his pants, leaning back and casting his gaze up at the dying giant tree, then shifting his attention back to her. “I'm here to bargain,” he declared with an air of weightiness.

Bitterness seeped into Ellowyn's voice as she lazily stretched out her arms. “If you can't tell, I don't have anything to bargain with.”

The young man responded with playful disbelief, his tone carrying a hint of intrigue. “Oh, I wouldn't say that,” he retorted, pointing towards the tree. “You're about to step into your next life. Perhaps you'll be an animal, free from the complications of what it is to be human. Or maybe you'll be born into riches, with a mother who'll dress you in fine silks and a father who'll pamper you. Or the one that many dread, born from dirt, starving away and filled with too much hope to bear.”

Ellowyn contemplated his words in silence as he continued, his tone now carrying a hint of significance. “All that is a gamble. But I have one last promising thing I can give.”

With narrowed eyes, Ellowyn challenged him, “Which is?”

He tilted his head, a cunning smile gracing his features, reaching out his hand for her to hold. But she made him wait, refusing to give in immediately. “I can promise you your sister's life. As we speak, she's been promised the gallows,” he stated, a heavy weight dropping in Ellowyn's heart.

“I'll bring you back to save her, but in exchange for something,” he stated firmly, his eyes locking onto hers with unwavering determination.

Without hesitation, Ellowyn stepped closer to him. “What?” she demanded, her voice steady, though her heart pounded like drumming echoes.

He seized her hand, drawing her into an intimate proximity. Leaning down, he revealed the terms with a conspiratorial whisper, “Kill me a King.”

তততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

𓆸tags: @lu-etapprouve @mandhos @muddshadow @lord-fallen (ask to be added!)

#araavib #writeblr #essebris #wip excerpt #excerpt #writblr #writing wip #writerblr #writers #spilled ink #writeblr wip #current wip #wip

6 notes · View notes