CHAPTER 33: A LULLABY

  Training overpowered panic.

  Suryel stumbled forward, slipping through the thinning veil like a shadow melting into itself.

  The sensation of the world bending around her legs and shoulders, faintly resistant yet eerily liquid, made her stumble slightly.

  She steadied herself with a hand against the wall, feeling the cold stone bite through the thin fabric of her sleeve.

  The narrow corridor opened before her— The child lay there, fragile and small, breath shallow, clothes smeared with dark, glistening blood.

  Tiny motes of dust swirled around the child, disturbed by Suryel’s sudden movement.

  Even in the dim light, the blood gleamed unnaturally, flecked with gold that seemed to catch and bend the shadows in strange ways.

  The scent hit her first, wet iron, old dust, and something faintly citrus and floral, like crushed petals hidden beneath stone. Her stomach lurched violently, a queasy, sour twist that threatened to buckle her knees.

  She forced herself to inhale deeply through her nose, willing the coppery scent to anchor her rather than undo her.

  The walls seemed to lean inward, enclosing her in a cage that whispered observation. Every subtle crack, every ridge in the stone felt like eyes pressing against her back.

  The corridor itself seemed almost sentient, as if it wanted to see what she would do next, to test her courage, to measure her resolve.

  Each stone under her palms was slick with remnants of the child’s fall, and she felt her fingers stain red as she slid closer, the liquid sticky and warm against her skin.

  Her palms quivered slightly despite her efforts to stay still, leaving faint streaks across the polished lapis surface.

  She didn’t understand half of what was happening.

  Why the child was pulsing with life and light and yet fading simultaneously.

  How something so small could radiate both vibrancy and fragility at the same time.

  Tiny specks of glow drifted from her skin like fireflies losing their way, vanishing into the air in faint, shimmering trails.

  The blood itself shimmered faintly, dark yet tinged with ink and gold, like it had been painted with an artist’s deliberate cruelty.

  But Suryel stayed on her knees, frozen only in resolve.

  Her muscles trembled, but she would not recoil.

  Training barked louder than panic, overriding every instinct that screamed to run.

  Hands steady.

  Pressure.

  Tilt the head.

  Check airway.

  Calm the panic.

  Move, now!

  She pressed her jaw tight, teeth biting into tension as pulse thundered in her ears.

  Knees ached against cold stone, wrists screamed under the strain as she pressed harder. Her breaths came in shallow, uneven gasps, each one stirring the faint motes of dust around them.

  Recoil screamed at her body, but she refused.

  The child felt frighteningly light beneath her.

  Weightless in a way that made Suryel’s heartbeat thrum painfully.

  Every time she tried to shift to adjust pressure, it felt like handling a fragile wind-blown blossom, delicate and breakable.

  “Okay, okay. P-p-pressure! Come on— Stay with me!” Suryel’s voice trembled, ragged breaths punctuating each word.

  She leaned slightly over the child’s body, rocking subtly to keep steady pressure as the wound resisted her efforts.

  Her head kept tilting to the side, betraying the fight-or-flight instincts that she forced herself to suppress.

  A deep, shuddering inhale.

  Her hands hovered, trembling.

  Now, the wound was real enough to touch, hot against her fingertips, thickened with the child’s heartbeat and pulsing strangely.

  She exhaled, focusing.

  Eyes scanned the child’s face carefully, thought and memory caught her off-guard, she saw the familiar tilt of the brow, the faint scar near the hairline she’d almost forgotten existed.

  Every tiny feature was magnified in her mind, every expression amplified by her adrenaline— She look like… me.

  “Snap out of it. Focus!” Her hands pressed firmly, carefully into the wound.

  The child whimpered softly, a faint, heart-wrenching sound that barely reached the walls but reverberated in Suryel’s chest. Anger— Hot, furious, useless— spiked in her, a rush of raw heat that threatened to cloud her focus.

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  For one terrifying heartbeat, she wanted to scream.

  At the walls.

  At the unseen watchers.

  At the cruel systems that permitted this.

  But warmth met warmth. Fear and anger had no place here. She folded them inward, converting it into steady pressure, into care, into being present.

  Deep breaths, trembling hands, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. She focused on the child, on the pulse of life she could still feel beneath her fingers.

  Every subtle shift in the child’s breathing, every faint flutter of eyelids, was magnified and cataloged in Suryel’s mind, her eyes scanning for patterns, responses, and what came next.

  How could someone so young… so innocent… be treated like this?

  Images flickered in her mind: the child skipping through the corridors before the attack, bright and laughing, free and untouchable, flowers braided into her hair, humming without concern.

  The sound of her laughter lingered in Suryel’s memory like sunlight spilling across a stone floor.

  Suryel’s voice broke through the echoes, not abandoning hope. “Help! Someone needs help here! Can anybody hear me? Please hear me! Someone is hurt here! Help! What should I do? What can I do? Please help!”

  The sound bounced back from the stone walls, hollow, relentless. Dust floated in tiny eddies around the sound, disturbed by the vibration.

  She froze, realizing the emptiness— No one came.

  I am alone.

  Then, another thought crept in. The lullaby—the child had hummed it as she wandered these corridors. No words, just a tune soft enough to slip beneath footsteps.

  It hummed through the stone like a living thread, persistent and familiar.

  Suryel remembered tracing imaginary patterns along the walls in her dreams, fingers gliding over shapes that weren’t really there.

  Hummed it without knowing why, pretending footsteps beside her were another presence.

  Yael’s low voice had caught it later, steady and sure, humming in harmony as if he understood without explanation— A promise without words.

  She felt it settle now in her chest, aligning her breathing, slowing her hands.

  Panic loosened its grip just enough for her to function.

  The tiny, quivering glow from the child’s skin reflected off her eyes, and for a fleeting moment, time itself seemed to suspend.

  Recognition widened her eyes.

  She remembered herself— Clear, real, awake in the dream realm. Curled on Yael’s lap beneath the Star-bearing tree, his voice carrying the same lullaby.

  Words and memories embedded within melody.

  The song carried the smell of fresh leaves, the hum of distant stars, and the gentle weight of being held.

  Suryel swallowed hard, throat bobbing as she steadied herself. She sang softly to herself, to the fading child, to anchor them both:

  ?? “Hush now, little… wandering flame.

  Lay down your light, release… your name.

  The night is wide, but… you are held.

  By star and leaf, by sky… itself.” ??

  Specks of light around the child softened, drifting upward like embers cooled by kindness. The glow pulsed in time with her song, rhythmic and steady.

  ?? “Close your eyes, the world… can wait.

  Tomorrow’s doors… will keep their gate.

  But here… you’re safe, and here you stay.

  Until dawn sings… you wake someday.” ??

  Suryel felt a resonance, deep and quiet. A long-sealed door in her chest turning gently on its hinges. She continued, letting her voice break where it would.

  ?? “Rest your wings, the dark… is kind.

  It blankets hearts, and quiets… minds.

  And while… you dream, in golden glow.

  You’re watched, by those… who love you so.” ??

  Finally, a sob cracked through her chest, the child’s eyes fluttered open, tiny fingers curled around Suryel’s wrist.

  Suryel froze.

  Skin against skin, warmth, pressure.

  The child’s gaze locked onto hers, two versions of the same soul, across time and memory, touching.

  The child smiled and closed her eyes in acceptance. “Find Helel. Don’t let him drown.”

  The memory shattered and the child vanished into drifting specks of light, absorbed into Suryel’s heart along with a painful surge of recollection.

  Her body remembered first, pain smearing time, crawling through dark corridors, calling out when she could barely move.

  Then—

  She saw a dim vision of Yael, scrambling to a stop toward her, then rushing away.

  A flash of Raphael, Yael and Azriel standing watch in her Abode, their heads suddenly turning back. There was a noise, an angry demanding voice.

  A staggering motion of Azriel carrying her across the bridge.

  She shuddered, arms holding and embracing herself.

  Suryel remembered everything—

  Abruptly, the cavern where her dreaming self was along with Michael and Helel, filled with miasma, thick, violent, almost sentient.

  It pulsed around her, screaming with malice.

  The stone seemed to bend beneath the pressure, quivering like a living thing.

  Michael and Helel struggled to maintain balance at the edge, the edges of the cavern began cracking beneath the pressure.

  The air was dense, hot, vibrating with static tension.

  “Where’s Suryel?” Yael’s voice cut through as he arrived with Azriel and Gabriel.

  Relief at seeing his brothers and fear for not seeing signs of Suryel mingled, his eyes darted through the twisting shadows, noting every flicker of movement.

  Helel’s eyes glimmered, damp with restrained tears. “She’s still inside!”

  Michael positioned at the threshold, shield blazing, keeping the corruption at bay. “Stay back! The miasma is spreading! We need containment now!” His voice thundered across the cavern, each word laced with authority, reverberating against the stone that seemed to pulse in response.

  Helel didn’t hesitate.

  He darted forward.

  “Helel! Don’t!” Azriel lunged, arms outstretched. Too late.

  Gabriel and Michael held Yael back, gripping his shoulders when he tried to lunge forward, anchoring him as his instinct screamed to follow.

  The miasma swallowed the last trace of Suryel’s silhouette.

  Helel didn’t wait to reason.

  He never waited when it came to Suryel.

  And he wouldn’t now— Not while he still see her.

  He dove.

  Author’s Note:

  I will let you readers in to a little secret. That lullaby?

  I have always saved it in my notes, written and re-written to the first page of my pad of daily reminders. Kept it written, to remind me. Like a way finder.

  Thank you for reading through 30+ chapters and making it this far!