Silence.
That's what the world down here was. Silence. For as still and quiet as the forest tended to be, its underground labyrinths were even more so. It was an eerie kind of quietude, too—without life, without breath. Dead.
Was she dead?
Not all silence, she supposed. But the only noise came from her actions and her being. PUM-pum, PUM-pum, PUM-pum. . .the beating of her heart. Shhh-shhh-shhh. . .hobbling herself along the stone floor. Hah-uh, hah-uh, hah-uh. . .congested, desperate, weary breaths. In and out, in and out. On and on, on and on.
Dead hearts did not beat. She knew that, at least.
How long had she been stuck within Mephala's Web? Minutes? Hours? Days? Moons? The time had slipped away from her like shadows from the rising sun, fading into nothing, fading into irrelevancy. There was nothing here, nothing of which to keep track. Nothing but empty darkness and silence disturbed only by Maegi.
Only Maegi.
Maegi, Maegi, maegi, maegi m a e g i m a e g i . . . . .
Her voice echoed down the tunnel before her, slipping 'round the haunted curves.
Her injured leg held white-hot pain. Near the ankle was where it throbbed the most; each time she inadvertently brushed it, she drew her breath in with a hiss, or a strangled cry. She needed help. She needed rest.
She sank down where she stood, gingerly stretching out her right forelimb while tucking the other legs beneath her. Catlike, tucked into a neat loaf. A pale specter in the stygian underground, who didn't belong. She didn't belong.
Beneath her, she felt trembling within the ground—or was that only her own exhausted muscles?—no, no, it was the ground that shook again, and the walls rattled gently, and dirt came slowly down a fine silt, like rain but dry so dry so lifeless. . .
Lifeless. Dead. If the quakes were beginning again, Maegi would certainly perish. She felt her body tense in terror and a sudden warmth spread out from her belly, and then the pungent smell of fear-tinged urine, followed by sobs—
But the trembling ceased, leaving the young priestess alone in the dark, settled in her own waste, trapped within the walls of the earth and the walls of her own design. . .
and it was so silent, so silent, so silent
That's what the world down here was. Silence. For as still and quiet as the forest tended to be, its underground labyrinths were even more so. It was an eerie kind of quietude, too—without life, without breath. Dead.
Was she dead?
Not all silence, she supposed. But the only noise came from her actions and her being. PUM-pum, PUM-pum, PUM-pum. . .the beating of her heart. Shhh-shhh-shhh. . .hobbling herself along the stone floor. Hah-uh, hah-uh, hah-uh. . .congested, desperate, weary breaths. In and out, in and out. On and on, on and on.
PUM-pum, PUM-pum, PUM-pum, PUM-pum, PUM-pum—
Dead hearts did not beat. She knew that, at least.
How long had she been stuck within Mephala's Web? Minutes? Hours? Days? Moons? The time had slipped away from her like shadows from the rising sun, fading into nothing, fading into irrelevancy. There was nothing here, nothing of which to keep track. Nothing but empty darkness and silence disturbed only by Maegi.
Only Maegi.
Maegi, Maegi, maegi, maegi m a e g i m a e g i . . . . .
Her voice echoed down the tunnel before her, slipping 'round the haunted curves.
Her injured leg held white-hot pain. Near the ankle was where it throbbed the most; each time she inadvertently brushed it, she drew her breath in with a hiss, or a strangled cry. She needed help. She needed rest.
Gods, she needed light. . .
She sank down where she stood, gingerly stretching out her right forelimb while tucking the other legs beneath her. Catlike, tucked into a neat loaf. A pale specter in the stygian underground, who didn't belong. She didn't belong.
Beneath her, she felt trembling within the ground—or was that only her own exhausted muscles?—no, no, it was the ground that shook again, and the walls rattled gently, and dirt came slowly down a fine silt, like rain but dry so dry so lifeless. . .
Lifeless. Dead. If the quakes were beginning again, Maegi would certainly perish. She felt her body tense in terror and a sudden warmth spread out from her belly, and then the pungent smell of fear-tinged urine, followed by sobs—
But the trembling ceased, leaving the young priestess alone in the dark, settled in her own waste, trapped within the walls of the earth and the walls of her own design. . .
which were growing. and growing faster than she could rationalize.
and it was so silent, so silent, so silent
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