Death, Devotion, Dissonance

Relain enjoyed seeing things die. Small things, mostly, but not too small, like insects. He preferred rodents, birds, maybe rabbits… things around that size.

The way they struggled away their final reserves of energy, twitching and contorting all over the place, trying to run away from whoever or whatever harmed it… the way they suddenly realize that they're not going to survive and just lie down on the ground, their limbs still, but their tiny lungs still working heavily, savoring the last breaths of air in their lives…

There was something sacred about the process that Relain could never find in anything else.

Larger animals, like dogs and cats, could also work, but Relain often found their deaths too important to actually enjoy it. Those smaller animals… their deaths could be inconsequential. But you could never tell with cats and dogs. Most often, they were the important parts of someone's life, so Relain could never wholeheartedly enjoy their final moments, as he would be too worried about what their absence could mean for someone else.

For this reason, he reckoned he could never enjoy seeing a human die. The scene playing out behind his back further cemented this belief of his.

"Ugh… No… No! No! What are you doing to me?! Mercy of the Hundred Gods, please stop! Stop!"

Sounds of a woman's struggle entered his ears, and Relain was trying his best to pretend that nothing wrong was happening behind him, but he was having a hard time.

Frowning, he focused his attention on his environment. Dunes surrounded him from every side, loose sand flying on winds. He was somewhere in the Great Desert of the East, though he had no idea where exactly. He followed his Mistress through a portal without thinking much, but perhaps he should worry about how he was going to survive if she forgot him here.

"You there! Do something! Why are you just standing there! Help me, I'll do anything! At least tell me what's happening to me! It feels like… like I'm disappearing! But… I'm here, right! …?"

Hearing the woman again, Relain groaned inwardly.

Due to his upbringing and his culture, it was especially hard for him to ignore the final words of another. Death was a sacred thing for Relain's people, so his bones were screaming at him to at least acknowledge the woman..

Reluctantly, his eyes went towards the scene he was trying to avoid a few seconds ago. A black-skinned woman, who had the symbol of a four-edged star tattooed on her forehead, was being held by the branches of a greenish-blue tree. Some branches of the tree were also stabbed inside the woman's head, faint flashes of light pulsing through them.

Relain called it a tree, but it definitely wasn't a normal tree. It didn't have any leaves, only possessing branches, which weren't hard like wood, nor was it brown. Instead, they could move, were soft and slippery like a snake, and had a blue color. If cut, the branches would 'bleed' some kind of green fluid, which would dissipate into the air in a matter of seconds.

But the most shocking feature of the tree was that its roots were 'growing' from the hands of a girl with closed eyes, who looked no older than thirteen. Relain's Mistress.

She wasn't dressed in the all-white clothing that she usually wore, instead opting to wear a baggy sleeveless shirt (which exposed her arms completely), and light-blue pants made of an unknown material that were only long enough to cover a part of her thigh (leaving everything below bare for everyone to see). Relain could not find it in himself to agree with such clothes, but since it was his Mistress, there was nothing he could say. Especially since it was likely Four this time.

"Don't just stare at me! Help me! I don't understand what's happening! I feel like… I feel like I should know things, but for the love of the Gods, I can't remember!"

The woman's shouts forced Relain to look into her eyes. They were filled with fear, but slowly, the fear was turning into confusion. Her time was nearing. Perhaps only a few minutes now. This was usually also the time for his Mistress to regain consciousness. Relain usually dreaded this moment, but he decided that it was better than seeing the woman's death.

"My head feels like exploding," his Mistress groaned as her eyes opened.

The roots of the tree were cut away from her hands and

"Lady Four? Please drink some water." Relain hurried to support his Mistress.

"No… It's Twelve," his Mistress replied.

"Ah, but your clothing…"

"It was Four before, digging through that woman's memories, but I had to take over during the process," his Mistress, currently Twelve, explained. "A vision of the future came over me, you see."

"Ah," Relain replied, sighing out in relief. His Mistress was hard to deal with almost all the time, but not if she was Twelve. "What kind of event did you see? If I may ask."

"It's a meeting. A boy will seek me out and ask me a favor… I must comply."

Relain's eyes went wide. This boy must be someone quite important, if he could ask favors from his Mistress.

"Do you recognize him, Mistress?"

"No. No one I know," she replied. "But I suppose we'll find out soon enough…"

Relain pondered upon the words, feeling somehow that this would be an important meeting.

"Give me a minute to fix myself. After that, we'll go to where we're going to meet and at least make ourselves comfortable there," his Mistress said and fell onto the sand.

Relain nodded, gave her whatever supplies she might need, and made his presence thin.

"Help me…"

The woman had fallen onto the sand, but the branches of the tree were still stuck in her head, pulsating occasionally.

Relain approached her, put his hands on her cheeks and spoke, feeling a surge of confidence. "May you find yourself a better life next time." Pausing, he continued. "I hope you find the peace in the silence."

The woman looked at him with a look of betrayal, but Relain could see it in her eyes, how she was even forgetting the concept of betrayal.

Relain wondered. How many things was she forgetting? How many people were just slipping out of her mind? Whose memory persisted the longest? Is it her parents'? Her lover? Her children? Or someone else entirely?

It did not matter.

The look of fear in the woman's eyes disappeared. She had forgotten fear. She did not speak, for she had forgotten words. She did not struggle, for she had forgotten how to. And finally, she ceased to breathe, for she had forgotten even that.

Complete emptiness.

There was nothing to her death. No struggle, no savoring of her last breaths, no look of acceptance, and most importantly, no feeling of sacredness.

A death worse than a rat's.

Relain enjoyed seeing things die, but he felt that no one could enjoy witnessing a death like this.