The Necromancer's Daughter

|| thirteen ||

The first few rays of sunlight filtered through the thin sheen of curtains and illuminated the room. Rebecca had been awake for quite a while but she didn't move from the position she woke up in. It had been five days since the events at the Viewing Room. Five long days since the grand revelation that she wasn't just Lilian, she was also Masilda, in a clear but twisted way of things. Rebecca understood the Paduereani's need for space to grieve, and she was more than happy to give it to them, especially since there was also a coldness growing inside of her. It wasn't sadness or shock or fear, although there were those in it, too. It was indifference.

The power exchange in the Viewing Room was overwhelming, and she was aware of Grandma Vai's instruction to everyone to let her rest and recuperate but on her second day of holeing up inside the room, she no longer felt physically drained. What she felt was indescribable. It was as if a hole had been punched in her gut and no amount of sleep and rest could close it up. It was like finding out the answers to the secrets behind her visions only lead to more questions. And Rebecca was starting to lose hope.

It felt never ending, this identity crisis of hers . Every day since her resurrection, all they ever did was run. It didn't matter whether it was to flee from The Necromancer, or to chase after a gray cat through the thick of the woods. All they did was run. And she was exhausted with all of it.

Rebecca turned her head to follow a scent the morning breeze carried to her nostrils. The fragrant wind was coming from the bedside table, where an ornate vase was filled with sprigs of herbs she couldn't name. They were delightful, but not enough to convince her to get out of bed. What's the point of getting up, she thought, What's the point of all this, really?

She shut her eyes and willed herself to go back to sleep again. To go back to dreamless hours where she isn't expected to do anything but exist. To convert oxygen to carbon dioxide. To occupy space. To fill the missing pieces left by Lilian, by Masilda.

A soft knock from the bedroom door interrupted her, "Rebecca, honey?" asked Lucille, she opened the door and let herself in. "Good morning."

Rebecca didn't move a budge, but she heard the door close, and felt the mattress shift as Lucille sat at the foot of her bed. She knew Lucille was aware of her wakefulness. Still, she kept herself immobile, to avoid engaging in unwanted conversation.

"Rebecca, stop doing this," Lucille spoke. "I know you don't feel very well, but you won't get better keeping yourself imprisoned in here like this. Jili's asking about you everyday," her voice was endearing, and for a moment, Rebecca considered regarding her. "She's really worried about you," Lucille continued.

Being unresponsive was easier than acknowledging Lucille's consolation. But it was not entirely deliberate on Rebecca's part. As much as she wanted to tell Lucille she felt like she was spiraling to a breakdown, she couldn't find the words to express it. She also didn't know how act around Lucille or the others. Nobody told her outright, but Rebecca felt their expectations weighing down on her. She felt that because - in essence - she was both Lilian and Masilda, they expected her to live up to them and their magical significance.

"Hmm, lemon balm and geraniums. Jili sure is an intuitive gypsy for her age," Rebecca felt Lucille stand up. She heard her footsteps on the polished wooden floor,  walking closer to the bedside table for a closer whiff. "I haven't smelled this combination for years. Reminds me of someone I used to know."

Of course. Everything reminds you of Lilian. Rebecca thought and was a little surprised with the abrasive tone she used to think it. She still kept her eyes closed.

"It reminds me of my ex-husband, Gerhard."

Rebecca's eyes fluttered open. She saw Lucille holding some of the geranium blooms, gently running her fingers against its small, smooth petals. Their eyes met. "You mean The Necromancer, right?" Rebecca asked in a hasty, breathy manner.