Chapter 115: Inside the lantern
~ Ava's POV ~
I am back. Or perhaps I am not.
This place... it is warm, like the arms of a mother I do not remember. Soft light cradles me here, golden and tender almost like sunlight spilled inside a womb.
I am not in my body. I do not breathe in air. Yet I feel, no, I think I float inside the lantern. Here, I have hope of returning to my body. But with her... A shiver runs through, making my flickering form tremble. I shake, refusing to think of her.
Drogon had placed me here. I remember his voice, firm yet sorrowful, telling Gwen that my spirit was fading, vanishing like bread soaked in cold water.
He could not bear to let me go. So he captured what was left of me and sealed me within this sacred thing. And here I remain.
At peace. But also restless. I see all. I see them. All their fears and frustration. I could see it all.
Callie is here. Her hands are always busy, grinding herbs, pressing warmth into my body even though I cannot feel them.
Her eyes are wet with tears she refuses to let fall. I think she speaks to me sometimes, soft words, stories of the castle, of the things I have missed. Of Raphael.
I see Gwen too. She has changed. There is power in her now. She is not my naive baby that needs protection anymore.
She is stronger and better than before. The light of the Moon dances on her skin as she walks, and her voice no longer trembles with fear when she speaks.
Something I noticed is how Drogon hovers around her. Maybe I will ask when I finally have my body back.
Also, she had summoned Mother Earth herself. And Mother Earth answered. That is rare. Alasia had made mention of Mother Earth when I was with her.
According to her, Mother Earth had never answered her or acknowledged her as queen. So for her to come to Gwen, she must be special. I feel like a proud mother hen seeing the changes my Gwen went through.
Yesterday, they performed another ritual. A ritual carried out by Gwen, a ritual lost to time, buried beneath blood and ash. Gwen performed it.
I saw how they wrapped my body in roots and soaked my skin in the sacred waters drawn from the well beneath the palace.
Gwen sang in the old tongue, and the children, the ones Alasia cursed into beasts, stood in a circle and hummed along with her.
It is said that Faes were closer to the deities, especially their young ones. Maybe that is why Alasia had gone after them, or maybe not. I am still disoriented.
All I have been doing is watching them. From my place within the lantern, I watched my body heal.
The veins that once merged like black vines beneath my skin are now gone. My face is no longer pale. My chest rises and falls, slow, steady.
But I am not inside my body. Not yet. There is one last ritual left. I heard them say Drogon must call my spirit home. Home to my human vessel.
However, it is a dangerous ritual. If he speaks the words wrong, if he missteps by even one breath, my spirit shall scatter like ash in the wind, and I shall never return. I feel no fear. Only sorrow. For them. For him, my beloved, who has been sleeping.
Drogon comes towards the lantern and kneels before it. His forehead pressed to the floor. His voice is silent. He is praying.
I see the others do the same as well; they look like priests. I do not know. Still, they join Drogon in kneeling before my lantern.
Anastasia sits beside Gwen. They do not speak, but they just observe everything. Ready to do anything if they are called. My eyes move to Caleb.
He is leaning against a pillar, his arms crossed, eyes red from sleeplessness. Even the guards stand by the door, not daring to move or speak too loudly.
My eyes search again since it is a new day, if I would see him. But I do not. He is not here. All I have heard is that he is asleep.
Since our return from the Rift, I felt his power inside this lantern just once. It had beckoned unto my soul. I had searched for him. Every day since then, as people filed in to check on my body, not once did I see him.
I waited for him. I searched for his face. But nothing. Then I heard Callie talking to my body. It was then I found out he sleeps.
That his body had been hurt and Grey was currently unstable. What I could not understand is why Grey and Raphael are not one.
Another thing I noticed while being carried about by Drogon on his many visits to see Raphael was a little girl. She stays around him.
She is as pale as moonlight, her hair like raven feathers tangled by the wind. She is always beside him, weeping though not loudly. She does not speak. She only cries.
She held his hand, pulling on it gently, urging him to wake up though he does not feel her touch.
It was Gwen who told me her name.
"Marissa," she whispered, circling my lantern that was placed on a table. "That child follows him because he rescued her."
My heart aches. For the little one and for him. All I do is wonder what I could do to help them.
I thought I would feel anger still. Rage for all he has done. For every pain, every secret, for the eradication of my people.
But in this space between life and death, anger feels too heavy for me to carry. All that remains in my soul is longing and yearning.
"I wish you could see me," I whisper to his sleeping form. Drogon has left me with him for the usual visit. My lantern is beside the bed.
And perhaps he does see me.
"I want you to hold on, Raphael," I whisper.
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