Hallowed Admiration

[Sensitive Content Warnings: Mental Health, Suicidal Ideation, Physical violence]

It'd been three months.

Three months since I last saw my partner.

Three months since I had to face my own fears.

I laid in the bladed sea outside the house that atrociously claimed to be my home, staring up at the white cotton candy that hid truths of the unknown. What was left of Hope shriveling up in my mind. What was left of Peace disintegrating like a figment long past withered. I’d forgotten what it was like to have faith in this word.

Wishes. Wishes wished away with what little consternation I had left. Useless as they were: it wasn’t like the sea I laid upon would turn into actual blades to tear me asunder and remove me from this world. If only I could be so lucky; if only I had never made that love-forsaken promise to them.

There were only two more days until the Ceremony of Internship. When the Consort of the Aegis would officially wed Sleep.

Until I commit the atrocity deemed necessary by Pinas, the Goddess of Lust. The irony of the situation was not lost to me. I, a member of the Aegis’ harem, a devout follower of Sleep, was going to kill Sleep’s soon to be wife, on the night of their wedding. And usher in another Sleepless Era.

Pinas assured me it’s for the best, that if I didn’t do it, Sleepless Era would be the least of our concerns. So I worked in silence for these past three months, taking slivers of dreamstone and godbone, intertwining them together and making a small dagger capable of killing Lina after they were wed. To sever her ties to the world, and rebirth.

I wanted Mikira to find the weapon on me. To strip me of my rights as a member of Lina’s harem. To end my life before I ended hers. But he keeps missing it. I’d started to suspect that Pinas had a hand to play in this. I swore to Lina I wouldn’t take my life. I never swore that I wouldn’t force someone else’s hand to do it for me. Not that it mattered when Mikira refused to do a proper search. All he had to do was actually look down my top. That was it. It would be obvious. But he won’t. Because he thinks that it’d be indecent to see one of the harem’s body beyond what was already shown.

Well, fuck him.

And fuck this world.

I had grown tired of it, of living, of loving, of trying to be the best, of existing. The worst part was that I knew I had a relatively good life – had everything I could ask for, everything I could ever need, and I had choices no one else could claim. Not everyone could claim they could bed the future wife of a goddess, could they?

Three months and one day.

Three months and one day since I'd been convinced that this would be the best course of action.

Three months and one day since I’d seen Lina. I missed her. I missed being in her arms, to feel the soft press of her skin against my own. To feel that sense of safety, longing, and love fill my heart. Most of my nights these past three months were spent thinking about it and crying myself to sleep. I want to tell my goddess.

Want to admit to her my curse. My hatred of myself. Lina knows it. She has tried her best to work with me on it. But hells if I could keep my head above the shallow depths of my hallowed depression.

I didn’t cry that night. I was too hollow. Too numb. It occurs to me, without context, whomever reads this may not know. Despite Lina getting married, the harem is still hers.

Three months and two days.

Hell was finally upon me.

Three months and two days.

I approached the ceremonial room, Sleepslayer dagger carelessly hidden in my bra. Mirika checked my hair—why hadn’t I thought to put it there!?—patted down my outer legs by what short bit of cloth covered my waist. But never my bra. He waved me through. I would have thought that after two other consorts had been murdered there would be tighter security, more cautious guards. Though—I was the first to do it at the Ceremony of Internship.

As I walked into the Chamber of First Sighs, I felt a sharp sting into my breast. Now, I was on a time limit. If the dagger had just pierced my skin, one capable of killing Sleep’s wife and harming Sleep, it’d certainly be able to kill me. Keeping my calm, I stood at attention for the ceremony. Velmourans weren’t exactly well known for long ceremonies. We liked things quick. This physical one was for records and officiality of the whole circumstance, besides. The true ceremony would take place while Lina slept tonight.

Well. It would have.

I didn't pay attention to most of it. Only the last part interested me. When the harem would say a temporary farewell.

The harem lined up as the ceremony approached its end. I positioned myself to be last – I didn’t want to starve my bed sisters of their last contact with our charge. As I waited, stepping forward after each of the other members of the harem kissed and hugged Lina, I felt myself fading. My sight, my will, my mind. My Hate.

My Love.

It was funny how, despite feeling numb and empty before tonight, it was almost an overwhelming amount of emotion compared to how I felt now.

How I felt when I kissed Lina passionately for the last time.

How I felt when I said, “I love you, and I'm sorry,” before I slid the dagger into her heart.

How I felt when I watched her face morph from serenity to confusion, to pain, to slackened features.

How I felt when I watched Sleep's face contort with despair.

How I felt when I stepped up to my goddess.

How I felt when I offered her the dagger, fully expecting her to use it on me.

How I felt when I watched Sleep plunge the dagger into her own stomach, pull it up, and then finally. Blissfully. Pressed it into my heart.

Was it blissful?

Velmoura ceased to be. The city built on dreamstone and godbane, a city intended to revere our goddess—after all, Velmoura was just another word in our language to mean “Sleep”—shattered. The inhabitants warped or the lucky ones killed. Buildings destroyed all – but a few that escaped such a fate. The Sacred Chapel being one of them.

Yet. I remain.

Everyone is dead.

But also, not dead. Like me, they all remain.

A dream perhaps? No one sleeps now. No one dreams. Or maybe we're always dreaming? Maybe this is what death is.

Three months and three days.

And.

Five hundred years.

I still yet ‘live.’ I still yet suffer. I’ve tried so many times to kill myself, but nothing works. Most of my sisters shun me. The rest ridicule me. Lina cannot return. Sleep is missing. Pinas has gone silent.

Mikira talks to me as if he doesn’t know I did something wrong. I try to tell him. He says that it’s okay. That he doesn’t blame me.

I try to find a way to kill myself every time he does.

He probably does it knowing it will fuel my self hate. It’s well deserved. Just wish I didn’t bring everyone into this hellscape with me.

Fuck.

To whomever you are, reading this. Do not feel sympathy for me. Do not feel pity. Hate me. Loathe me. Find a way to kill me. Though, truly, that would be a litany of relief for me. Maybe it’d be best to kill my friends, to give them an escape, and leave me bathed in loneliness, and life. Sleep knows I don’t deserve to pass on. She’s made this apparent with how she wills me to stay alive. How she refuses to let me die.

Others have. Other ghost concubines have managed to kill themselves. I’ve even followed their methods. They don’t work on me.

I miss you, Sleep. I’m so sorry for what I’ve done. I should have prayed to you, asked for guidance. Asked for what Lina refused me.

I miss you, Lina. I’m so sorry for what I’ve done.

And yet.

I wish you would have never made me hold to that promise. To never take my own life.

I love you. Loved you. Want to love you more. Further.

I love you both. Loved you both. Wanted to love you both more. Further.