Doortan felt a million miles away, as if years had passed, not days, since she wove down the dirt path back to the cold Manor, the heavy humidity making her wheeze, as she slogged through the muck, trying desperately to ignore the pounding in her head.
But here, in Irridessen…
Here, life felt vibrant, bright.Hopeful.
Lenna inhaled slowly as she coaxed her mind into the Prism, the stone beginning to glow, only half wondering if this was a terrible idea to do alone.
She sunk deep into the tangled web of memories. Without an anchor, Lenna could barely make out the slightly brighter thread against the rest–the thread to her own past and the intersecting and interwoven strands of lives she’d interacted with.
All around her threads knitted together, shooting off far into the distance, going all the way back to the origins of the Prism’s creation. Closer to her lay a shorter path, though no less intricate, all bisecting into a pulsing gold orb. Esmeray had explained that the orb led to the present, and if Lenna pushed through that golden light, her subconscious would simply return to her body, pulling her safely out of the Prism.
It was an escape hatch, Laurent forewarned, in case an Oracle got so lost in the past that their minds couldn’t discern how to get back out. Lenna tentatively glanced again at the orb, reassuring herself that she would use it if she couldn’t get out herself, before rising over the threads, debating whereto start.
Gently, and ever so carefully, Lenna latched her mind onto the thread of her own past, concentrating on finding the point in time where she was waving goodbye to Marlo and Orla as they escaped from Doortan’s clutches and began their travels to a new life.
Lenna found the memory easily, pride bursting through her, as she once again watched the ship sail away from port and out to sea. The threads unraveled as the vision faded, shooting out of the memory itself, coiling in multiple directions, some brightening, some dulling. Lenna eased her consciousness along the two threads that outshone the rest, guessing those connected to Marlo and Orla, and gradually wove her way down the length, trying to get closer to the present, to see where they were on their travels.
Right before the golden glow of the present forced her back to reality, Lenna sunk deep into the threads, thinking this would show her Marlo or Orla’s previous morning. She dove into the memory, the anticipation of seeing Marlo again making her giddy. The light faded as she slipped through the thread.
Nothingness.
Only swirling, murky fog, so thick Lenna couldn’t figure out up from down. The fog rolled around her, faster and faster. Lenna scrambled out, panic overtaking her, back from whence she came, away from the sheer density of the smoke.
Lenna dry heaved, jolting off the pillows, as her consciousness slammed back into her body. The Prism dulled. Lenna grappled to piece herself back together as a wave of nausea threatened.
She focused on her breathing first, until her lungs could take more than shallow, panting breaths. As her fear subsided, she stretched her feet, then fingers, working her way up her body, relaxing her tensedmuscles, until the numbness and terror wore off, the buzzing in her head abated.
A sinking feeling in her stomach dulled the rest of her nerves. She failed. She had wanted to see them again, to hopefully follow that thread just a bit more to check on Marlo and Orla, make sure they were either already to the port in Bardon, or getting closer to their destination.
Doubt dug in its talons. Maybe she hadn’t used the Prism properly, maybe she was too close to the present. Lenna mulled over the thought for a moment longer before deciding to try again. She had to master the Prism–she could figure this out without bothering anyone to anchor her.
She’d try a different memory. One that could build her confidence up and confirm that she was using the Prism correctly. Lenna decided to find Diana, to check on her old friend she hadn’t heard from in years. Steeling herself against the small pit of dread that bloomed from the sensation of falling into that smoky nothingness, she dove down again, pushing that kernel of anxiousness away.
Lenna again traveled down the path of her past, searching through the web to find the last point in time her past crossed with Diana’s. She started rifling through the years, her teeth clenching at the flashes of Leon that blipped across her mind’s eye.
There.
A small thread, dull and thin, arched out from her own, weaving through a different path. Lenna speared for it, going deeper into the Prism. Her mind slowed, sluggish as she pushed through, slipping around Diana’s thread for a recent memory of her dear friend. But another, brighter thread shot off of Lenna’s past, wrapping around Diana’s. From the positioning of thethread, its closeness to the orb of the present, Lenna sunk through the threads at their point of intersection, curious, since she hadn’t seen Diana in years.
It was overcast and raining as the small procession stood atop a hill. Mourners dressed in their finest memorial attire gathered around a headstone. Though the storm around them raged, no one paid it any heed.
A numb shock rippled through those gathered. Lenna felt that uneasy pit in her stomach grow as her consciousness darted through the crowd to read the engraving on the slab of white marble.
But the moment she lay eyes on it, her mind stumbled back, away from the freshly filled grave, away from the group gathered to pay their respects. Away from the stone jutting from the soft earth that read,In Memory of Lady Diana Merle.
Dead.
Her oldest friend, her confidant that she had not spoken to in years, the friendship she allowed to stale and dissipate, resigned to a cold body given to the ground. Reeling, her heartbeat pounding in her physical chest, Lenna whirled around, desperate to rip herself from this memory, her gaze falling to the mourners gathered. And there, standing in the middle of those assembled, dressed in his finest black coat, stood Leon.
Lenna stared at her estranged husband for a moment, disbelief and rage warring inside of her, before she launched herself back into her body, a humming roar following her as she tore from the Prism.
The Prism’s glow faded slowly, as if even the stone sympathized with Lenna’s shock and betrayal.
Diana was dead.
And Leon had gone to the funeral without telling her, without any sort of notice to his wife that her friend passed. Lenna leanedagainst the headboard, staring, unseeing at the ceiling above, twisting her thin wedding band from a lifetime of lies ago around her shaky finger. Tears welled up, her breathing coming in uneven bursts. Crushing her lids closed, a single tear escaped, slipping down her cheek.Where would Marlo and Orla go? Could she get a letter out to them?
She didn’t know.
