ECHOES OF BLAME, RIVERS OF SORROW

**ALIVIA POV**

**TRIGGER WARNING: Graphic Descriptions of Illness and Death, Intense Grief and Loss, Guilt and Self-Blame, Psychological Distress and Nightmares, Emotional and Mental Anguish.**

The cool liquid brushes against my lips, sending an electric tingle down my spine. A shiver of both excitement and apprehension courses through me as I taste the bittersweet elixir. With each swallow, its transformative essence surges within, like a wave of energy propelling me forward. My eyes flutter closed, and suddenly, I find myself no longer standing but falling, my body crashing against the unforgiving ground.

As consciousness returns to me, I blink open my eyes, expecting the training room to surround me once more. Yet, to my astonishment, I find myself standing in the familiar courtyard of the castle. The sun casts its golden rays upon the cobblestones, painting the scene with an ethereal glow. It feels both surreal and nostalgic, as if time itself has unravelled to grant me this glimpse into the past.

"Alivia! Alivia!" The familiar voice of my father pierces through the air, resonating with a mix of urgency and love. His call reverberates within me, stirring memories and emotions long held in the depths of my heart. Each syllable carries the weight of his guidance, his unwavering support that has shaped me into who I am today.
My heart quickens its pace, and I turn towards the sound, running through the courtyard seeking the source of his voice. I watch him walk up to the large tree in the courtyard with a hollowed-out trunk his back hunched as if he is sneaking up to it.

"There you are my little pumpkin" he says his voice carries a gentle tone, full of love.

As I draw nearer, a surge of emotions swells within me. I see my father crouched beside a young girl, her eyes bright with innocence and her laughter filling the air. It's me, as a child, with a heart full of wonder and a spirit untouched by the hardships that lie ahead.

My breath catches in my throat as I witness this tender scene. The rush of emotions threatens to overwhelm me, and tears well up in my eyes. The bittersweet taste of the elixir now matches the bittersweet ache in my chest. I long to reach out, to join the father and daughter captured in this timeless moment, but I know that I am merely an observer in this vivid tapestry of memories.

I watch as my father, his face etched with a mixture of pride and tenderness, places a wooden sword in my small hands. The weight of the sword is insignificant compared to the weight of his love and belief in me. His gentle guidance and patient instruction become a symphony of fatherly devotion, as he teaches me the art of sword fighting. The clashing of our blades echoes through the courtyard, a harmonious dance of the strength the bond between us.

Time seems to blur as I am swept away by the memories, reliving each practice session, each triumph, and each stumble. I feel the sting of defeat and the surge of triumph as I learn to channel my determination and hone my skills under my father's watchful eye. The memories are so vivid, so alive, that I can almost taste the sweat on my brow and feel the exhilaration pulsating through my veins. But even in this cherished time of growth and connection, a shadow lingers. I see the signs of illness slowly chipping away at my father's strength.

Within the chamber of darkness, the memories shift, and the air becomes heavy with a palpable sorrow. I am transported to the moment when my father's vibrant spirit began to wane, consumed by a relentless sickness that ravaged his body. The scene unfolds before me, vivid and raw, as if I am trapped in a haunting nightmare.

I stand at his bedside, my heart heavy with the weight of helplessness. His once-robust frame is now frail and fragile, his face etched with lines of pain. I reach out, desperate to provide solace, to mend the wounds that afflict him, but my touch is as feeble as a whisper against the tempest.

The torment of that time grips me with merciless force. I am flooded with the memories of sleepless nights spent by his side, watching as he battled against an unseen enemy. Each cough, each gasp for breath reverberates through my being, a haunting symphony of suffering that pierces my soul.

My father's eyes meet mine and surge of anguish courses through me. The once familiar warmth in his eyes has transformed into a piercing gaze, filled with reproach and accusation. His voice, once a soothing melody, now cuts through the silence like a jagged blade, lacerating my already wounded heart.

"Alivia, why couldn't you save me?" His words reverberate in the chamber, each syllable an accusation that echoes in the depths of my being. He stares right at me and that’s when I realize he is speaking directly to me. The weight of his disappointment settles upon my shoulders, a burden I cannot bear. I search for words, for an explanation, but my voice catches in my throat, suffocated by the overwhelming flood of emotions.

Tears well up in my eyes, blurring the world before me. I find myself gasping for air, the pain so acute that it becomes difficult to breathe. The shock of his reproach, unexpected and merciless, paralyzes me. I reach out, desperate to bridge the divide that has formed between us, but the chasm feels insurmountable.

His words sear into my soul, tormenting me with their relentless questions. "Why couldn't you protect us?" The accusation hangs heavy in the air, a haunting reminder of my perceived failure. Panic sets in, its tendrils snaking around my mind, threatening to unravel the fragile threads of sanity. The torment of reliving my father's illness, his final moments, and the subsequent isolation becomes an inescapable prison, my own personal hell.

The darkness magnifies the pain, amplifying the depth of my grief until it becomes an all-consuming force. I am enveloped in a tempest of emotions, caught in a relentless cycle of loss and despair. The memories torment me, their vividness tearing at my heart, as if mocking me for my inability to change the past.

The memory begins to shift once more, and suddenly, I find myself standing in a room filled with sombre hues. I glance down and notice that I am wearing a black dress, the very same one I wore for my father's funeral. The weight of grief settles upon me, its heaviness suffocating.

The world around me fades into a blur of grief and mourning, consumed by the weight of loss. Through tear-stained eyes, I see Lexi, her features contorted with anger and accusation. Her words strike like venom-laced arrows, piercing through the fragile shell of my shattered heart.

The warmth that once emanated from her presence is replaced by a cold and distant demeanour. Her voice, once filled with kindness and understanding, now drips with contempt. Her accusation hangs heavily in the air, twisting the knife of guilt already lodged deep within my soul.

"You did this, your father is dead because of you!" Her words reverberate within the chamber of my mind, resonating with a cruel resonance that cuts through the haze of grief. The weight of her blame settles upon my shoulders, a burden I can scarcely bear.

Tears stream down my face, mingling with the rivers of sorrow that have already carved their path. Each drop bears the weight of guilt and self-doubt, as I question my every action, my every decision leading up to this moment. The anguish in Lexi's eyes reflects my own, mirroring the torment that threatens to consume me whole.

The room transforms before my eyes, warping into a macabre landscape that mirrors the torment within my soul. it spins and twists, a distorted funhouse of torment. The walls bleed with grotesque images, their colours swirling into a sickening palette of accusation and blame. Faces materialize from the shadows, distorted, and contorted with anger and resentment, their eyes piercing me with their gaze.

Their voices rise like a chorus of malevolent spirits, their words a relentless onslaught, each syllable dripping with venomous blame. "It's your fault," they chant, their voices intertwining in a haunting melody. "You let him die. You could have saved him."

As the room continues its disorienting spin, the faces merge and transform, morphing into a grotesque fusion of my loved ones. My father's anguished eyes bore into mine, filled with disappointment and betrayal. Lexi's features contort with rage and sorrow, her voice a piercing scream that pierces through my very soul.

I try to speak, to defend myself, but the words catch in my throat, suffocated by the weight of their accusations. Desperation surges through my veins, fuelling a futile urge to escape this nightmarish realm, to find solace from the torment that surrounds me. But with every step I take, the room distorts and elongates, the exit always just out of reach.

The voices grow louder, their accusations escalating to a crescendo of torment. Their words reverberate through the chamber, blending into a cacophony of anguish and despair. The spinning room becomes a whirlpool of blame, threatening to drag me down into an abyss of self-doubt and anguish.

And then, in a sudden eruption of pure anguish, I cover my ears in attempt to make the voices stop and a guttural scream tears through my throat, a primal cry of desperation and pain. It reverberates through the nightmarish chamber, shattering the suffocating voices. The sound echoes and distorts, reflecting the depths of my torment.

With each tortured scream, the nightmare itself recoils, momentarily disrupted by the raw intensity of my anguish. The shadows writhe and twist, as if recoiling from the piercing sound.

But as quickly as the scream escapes my lips, it fades into a haunting silence. The room settles once more, the nightmare reclaiming its hold, as if mocking my feeble attempt at resistance. I am left gasping for air, my throat raw, my body trembling with the aftershocks of that guttural release.

I fall to the floor my shivering body coiling like a ball. Tears stream down my face, make it stop please .... make it stoppp!!!!

But there is no reprieve, no respite from the relentless torment. The nightmare intensifies, amplifying my anguish to unbearable levels. Shadows elongate and converge upon me, their sinister forms closing in like a suffocating shroud.

My pleas echo through the chamber, a desperate cry for mercy, for release from the unrelenting nightmare. Each word is imbued with a raw desperation, a plea to escape the clutches of this torment. But the nightmare remains unyielding, feeding off my pain and suffering.

The room itself seems to respond to my anguish, the walls pulsating with malevolent energy. The whispers grow louder, their voices intertwining in a cacophony of torment. Their words seep into my mind, infiltrating my thoughts with self-doubt and despair.

I curl tighter into myself, my body trembling uncontrollably. The tears flow ceaselessly, mingling with the sweat on my brow. My voice grows hoarse as I continue to cry out, my pleas for it to stop becoming more desperate, more primal.