She feels brand new, losing the memory that has haunted her for all of her existence.
She lets herself be carried into the storm on borrowed wings like it is not of her own volition. It is almost like all the bravery that had lain dormant in the deepest hollows of her has risen to the surface and taken over. It isn’t much, relatively speaking. It isn’t as big as the muscles or as lasting as the will of past heroes, but it is hers’ and hers’ alone. It is strong enough to propel her forward with her chin pointing into the center of the dark, swirling mass of clouds.
Once inside, Glaw realizes the magnitude of her actions.
She had known it wouldn’t be easy. She had known it would be like nothing she has done before, in her sheltered young life. But how can this be real? Incredulity shows in every line of her delicate face as she lingers just inside the cloud. Images play on every inch of the billowing substrate around her, none familiar but all so close. Some are terrifying right away: gnashing teeth, toppling trees, swallowing waves. Some make little sense at all. There is a mountain that moves further and further away until it is a pinprick in the distance before it blinks out of view. There is a woman with raven hair smiling prettily in the sunlight. A child laughs.
Glaw realizes she has been hovering in the same spot for too long. She moves deeper into the stormcloud with the fast flicking of her insectile wings and tries to brace herself for what might lie ahead.
It had been its own exquisite torture, reliving her abandonment.
But a callous mother and rough start in life are nothing new to Beqanna. She wonders what nightmares the others had given up as a way in. She wonders if she will see them here, plastered up alongside the images of her own dam walking away.
There is a shifting in the body of the giant cloud. One wispy arm reaches out like it is trying to block her. She tries to ignore the spray of blood that suddenly coats the grey appendage, but she realizes there is no way around it. Just as she’s preparing to tuck her knees and leap over, it turns into a snaking vine that wraps around her feet and encircles her neck. A horse appears ahead, shrouded in the shadows. Only white eyes shine through the darkness, piercing her as the vine begins to constrict her airway. An unhinged laugh cuts the sudden silence. She gasps for oxygen through her ruined, twisted nose. It is a familiar scene, her struggling to breath, but it is not her nightmare. Glaw struggles against her bonds, feeling the life slipping from her…
And then she remembers it isn’t her nightmare, but it is just a nightmare. Someone else’s. The hidden assailant melts away and is swallowed by the stormcloud walls.
There is the steady, constant sound of falling rain as she moves forward again. It quickens and grows louder, turns into a monsoon. Pitiful moaning fades away. The same child from before appears running alongside her. His blue eyes shine with curiosity and joy. He is still laughing, at first, until his eyes widen and he falls out of view. His scream of terror stays behind and fills her ears. Glaw feels that shield of bravery being chipped away the further she goes, the more she sees. How can this be real? How can so much pain exist in the world? How many of these nightmares are grounded in reality?
Her spine begins to tingle like she is being watched. Instead of turning around to see what fresh hell is behind her, she pumps her wings forward faster. Maybe she can’t block out the sights and sounds, but maybe she can outrun them. Howls and snarls and yips chase her deeper into the heart of the storm. There is nowhere to escape but forward. There is no way to change her mind, to prove that she is not brave enough for this. There is only this chase into the unknown, into more darkness eager to swallow the weak.
glaw