The Prophet's Daughter (20 page)

Sleep,
I ordered myself, squeezing my eyes tight. I couldn’t sleep, there were too many thoughts encompassing my mind. Olive, Mum, Dad, Seth… All of them were dead. Where was Felicity? Olive.. had she been given a proper burial? I exhaled a heavy breath and rolled onto my side, holding tight to the pillow beneath my head as I curled up, pulling my legs up to my waist.

“It’ll be okay,” a soft voice whispered behind me. I felt something press up against my back and fall across my waist and I opened my eyes and turned to see Ava, staring at me through half closed eyes, half hugging me.
I smiled at her and nodded, placing my hand on hers.

“I hope so,” I breathed, and she closed her eyes, falling back to sleep the moment she did. I turned my head away and looked at the picture frame; the glare of the light now across the face of the baby –
my face accompanied my mother’s beaming white smile and laughing eyes stared back. I screwed my eyes shut tight and begged for rest, imagining Ava’s arms to be my Mum’s warm embrace; warm and protecting.

“Goodnight.”

Fog thicker than any natura
l fog I had ever seen hovered above the ground, the sky hidden by the haze. Laughter echoed somewhere in the distance, a familiar and somewhat high laugh that made my heart leap into my throat. It was the one sound I could make out, everything else distant and almost mute. I couldn’t even hear the sound of my own breathing.

I stepped towards the laughter, my feet carrying me without a second thought that danger may lay in wait for me. The laughter grew louder and even more familiar, and my heart began to be
at in my chest, a rapid “thud-thump, thud-thump
,”
echoing in my ears.

“Olive!” I cried, reaching my hands forwards as I began to run towards the sound of the laughter, which seemed to be growing closer and yet farther at the same time. “Where are you?”

My calls were answered by a high, shrill sound that pierced my heart. I froze in my steps, faltering, before I ran towards where I had heard the scream. I called out her name, but I couldn’t hear my own voice. There was no sound that I could hear, aside from the echo of the high pitched scream.

I stopped as I saw her, green dressed stained crimson and caked with dirt and mud, lying in the grass and curled around her stomach. Soft whimpers carried to me from the small girl and I moved towards her, bending down
to pick her up.

“Olive, you’re going to be okay,”
I croaked, my throat tight as I struggled to speak. “Look at me, baby girl, please.” I watched as the girl turned to face me as I scooped her into my arms. I stared into her face, speechless, holding back vomit as she stared up at me. Her skin was pale, eyes sunken and teeth yellowed. Blood poured from her eyes in place of tears, and a small grin crossed her face.

“Soon, you’ll get to die, just like me. You deserve it. It’s your fault I’m dead.” Her voice ec
hoed a piercing sound that rang in my ears. I dropped her and stumbled away from her, a wave of nausea and heartache washing over me. I turned away from Olive, who lay in a heap in the ground, staring at me, and ran as fast as I could.

I shot up in my bed
with a thick coat of sweat covering my body. My hair stuck to my face, rubbing against me as I pivoted my head every way I could manage, searching the room. Ava was nowhere in sight, but I could see Isaac snoring on his chair, a book dangling in his hand. I heaved a sigh, bringing my legs up to my chin and placing my cheek against the bone.

It was just a dream,
I thought, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment and twiddling my thumbs. It may have just been a dream, but it had felt more real than anything else had in the past while. I knew I was to blame for the death of my sister, hearing her say it hurt. I could feel the slight, stinging ache in my chest, still fresh like a thousand needles had just been removed from my heart.

“Ma’am,” whispered the soft voice
I knew to be Ava’s. I looked up to see her walking through the door, holding up a black bag attached to a hanger. She glanced at Isaac and then back at me, her gaze hovering, before she closed the door behind her. “It’s time to get ready.”

“Arin, not ma’a
m,” I reminded as she held the bag out to me, holding it up to look at it. A zipper in the middle was pulled up to the very top of the bag, exposing nothing of whatever it was that it encased. “What is it?”

“Ceremonial dress,” she sighed. “It might not fit very well, but-”

“I am sure she will look gorgeous,” Lovelock stated as he entered the room, leaving the door ajar as he stepped towards us, hands clasped together. “It was intended to be your mothers wedding dress.”

“What?” I breathed, setting the bag down on the bed and tugging on the zipper. After a few sharp tugs, it gave away and the bag unzipped with ease. I stared at the white fabric peeking through what was open.

“It’s more for presentation, but it might as well go to use at some point. Hurry up, my dear.” He turned around and snapped his fingers in Ava’s face. “Girl, come and help me prepare altar.”

“Yes, sir,” Ava said, loud and clear, forcing herself to stand st
raight. Her fingers quivered at her side, and I winked at her.

“It’ll be okay,” I mouthed as she looked back at me, as if looking for some sort of reassurance. She flashed a small smile and scurried out of the room. I turned around to remove the dress from
the bag, but Isaac had woken and was standing by the footboard of the bed, leaning against it.

“Well?” Isaac raised his eyebrow and gestured towards the bag.

“Can I see it?”

“Turn around,” I said, crossing my arms. He rolled his eyes in response, put his
hands up in defensive, and turned so that he faced away from me. I slipped off the dress I had been sleeping in, the silk falling into a pile at my ankles. I kicked it away, unzipping the rest of the bag and taking the dress out, holding it out in front of me.

“Wow,” I breathed, running my fingers along the soft, interesting fabric. My fingers tingled as it brushed the dress. It was pure white with a surplice neckline and thin – thinner than my pinkie finger – straps to hold it up. It stopped at about knee
length for me. The waist had a belt made of what looked to be emeralds – the color of her eyes. At the bottom, starting from the belt and ending just beneath the end of the dress, was a trimmed mesh-like, see-through material. I wasn’t sure what it was; I didn’t know a thing about wedding dresses. All I know was that it wasn’t very fancy compared to others I had seen in old stores and magazines, but it was beautiful – it was something I could picture my mother wearing. Something I wished I had seen her wear.

I slipped the dress over my head, the satin fabric rubbing against my body. It was an interesting feeling, one I wasn’t used to. After a few moments of adjusting, the dress sat almost perfect on my frame. It seemed that my mother and I had been very sim
ilar in physique during her younger years.

“You can turn around,” I said with a heavy breath as I stepped away from the bed, staring down at my bare feet. I could see Isaac’s feet turn towards me as he spun around, but he stopped mid-turn, feet angled some
what to the right. I stared at that ground, waiting to see if he would continue to move, but instead he just remained still. I glanced up at him, catching sight of his shocked facial expression, a slight wrinkle appearing in his forehead. “What?”

“You look
beautiful,” he breathed and I strained to hear what he had said. He turned around and looked me dead in the face. “It suits you.”

“Thanks.” I smiled, reaching to touch the necklace around my neck. It was cold against my skin, memories of the nightmare I h
ad endured washing over me. I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, forcing myself to calm down.

“Arin.” Isaac’s hand grabbed my left one, holding it in his palm for a moment. I opened my eyes and stared at him, watching as he
dug through his pockets. I watched as he grew flustered, eyebrows furrowing as he began to chew on his cheek. “Where is it?” he grumbled. He removed his hand from mine and began to dig through all of his pockets.

“Where is what?” I asked, head tilting somewhat to the left as I asked.

“Ah, found it,” he said as he let out a sigh of relief and grinned, snatching my hand. “I want you to have this, for luck. It was my mother's.” He showed me a small, silver band, and pushed it onto my left ring finger. I looked at it and blinked. A small purple heart was nestled in the silver, a few eclipse cuts fanning out at the side of it.

“Isaac,” I began, moving to take the ring off. He grabbed my hand and shook his head.

“For luck,” he insisted as he moved towards the bedroom door, twisting the knob. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I will ever be,” I responded as I stared at the ring for a moment. “Thank you.” I stepped towards the door in my bare feet and it struck me that I didn’t quite care that I wasn’t wearing anything to cover them. I was, after all,
going to my death if I didn’t succeed.

Just as Isaac pulled open the door, Lovelock appeared on the other side. A small wisp of a grin appeared on his face and he came into the room, no longer in his cloak but instead a black outfit with a white square bet
ween the folded black collar, the sleeves stopping just at his wrists and the bottom falling just above his black shoes.

“I was just coming to fetch you,” he wheezed, reaching a hand towards me. “Come, my daughter.” He looked at me, eying the dress and the
n the ring and necklace. With a raised eyebrow, he took the hand that bore no jewelry and turned away, half dragging me along behind him. I glanced at Isaac, who met my gaze.

“I’ll look for Ava,”
he mouthed as my father pulled me out of the room. I nodded and squinted at the bright light that flooded that Chapel. I hadn’t noticed in the room, but out here I could hear them; hundreds of voices, giddy and impatient. I met the gaze of a small girl, who looked up at me with a beaming smile. She had no idea. I wanted to reach out and grab her, grab the small cub of juice in her hand and throw it away, but I couldn’t, for in the moment I got the chance to see her, she was gone a second after.

I stumbled along behind my father and stared up at the altar, a white ma
rble slap that stood behind the pedestal with a red blanket laid across it, a bright yellow cross stitched into the fabric. I struggled to breathe as a strong sense of horror encased me, every hair on my body standing on end, goose bumps riddling my arms and legs.

“Breathe,”
I thought, swallowing hard as my eyes began to burn with tears of fear.
“Just breathe.”
I climbed the steps behind Lovelock, legs shaking. I could feel the droplets of sweat beginning to drip down my face. I swallowed hard, eyes scanning the crowd. Where were Isaac and Ava?

“Kate,” Lovelock began, turning towards the blonde girl. I hadn’t seen her, but I did now; she was wearing a baby blue dress, her hair pulled back into a bun. I couldn’t deny that she looked beautiful, no matter the
amount of disdain I felt boiling inside me at the sight of her. “Suspend her.”

“As you wish,” she responded and lowered herself into a brief curtsy before she lifted herself and turned to me, a smirk on her face. She reached towards me and I, out fear, rec
oiled, glowering back at her. I felt something grab me from behind and I swung my head to see Jim, his hands clasped around my wrists.

“Don’t even bother,” he sneered as he dragged me towards the
standing, brown crucifix, though it remained upright because of the stand sticking out behind it, a little distance behind the altar. Between the two of them sat a large stone basin that had not been there the day before. In it was a large amount of wood. I looked over at the altar, the sight of a large curved knife, a white lily, and my blue crescent moon lighter greeting me, glinting in the light. They were going to burn me alive – so Isaac’s plan would work. I just had to find a way to find out how to throw him in the fire while I was suspended from a wooden cross.

“Up we get,” grunted Kate, and I couldn’t help but squirm as Jim and Kate lifted me up onto the crucifix, binding me to it with iron chains cuffed around my wrists. My legs were free and dangl
ed beneath me, my feet pointed towards the floor. I sighed and lowered my head, staring down at the floor beneath me. I felt a strong urge burning like fire in my throat to cry out for Isaac. I couldn’t do it, not without him.

“Right here,” breathed Isaac,
as if he had sensed my desperation. I couldn’t help but exhale a sigh of relief, lifting my head to look back at him. Ava stood beside him, her face blank and hands shaking as she looked up at me.

“Ava, remember what I said,” I whispered, looking down at
her and giving her a half smile. She nodded and looked up at Isaac for a moment before she stepped backwards, hands behind her back. Her gaze lifted to the candles, and I could tell she didn’t want to have to see whatever was about to happen. I wished I could have kept her from seeing it.

“Children,” began Lovelock, his voice louder than I had ever heard it before, though a slight wheeze came with each breath he took. He opened his arms, lifting them above his head and looking to the crowd. “Be at peace, fo
r tomorrow is a new days for us all. Tomorrow we will be free, we will be
pure
again.”

“Amen,” echoed the crowd, their voices caring throughout the church in a loud rumble. Lovelock lowered his arms and reached towards the Chapel, selecting both the flower
and the knife. He turned to me and met my gaze – I kept my gaze locked on him, swallowing all fear as he approached me. He bent down, settling the white lily on top of the firewood. A young man scurried toward us, dragging the basin closer to me.

“Thank y
ou,” Lovelock wheezed as he grabbed hold of my arm, touching the tip of the knife to the inside of my arm. He poked at my arm until he settled on a spot just under the crook of it. He looked up at me and sighed before he dug the knife into my skin and dragged it downwards, digging into my flesh. I clenched my jaw, holding back a scream that desired to burst from my chest. I could feel my face going red as my eyes narrowed, but I did not take my gaze off of his.

He lifted the knife at my wrist and watched. I
glanced at my arm, blood pouring from the gaping wound as it dripped onto the firewood, soaking the white flower, staining it a dark shade of crimson.