Chapter Five

My heart of glass seemed shattered. My head tingled where my brother had kissed it yesterday. I longed to hug him, feel his arms around me.

            Nineteen years ago, he was tiny: a little five year old boy with an unbreakable spirit, while I was sixteen. Now he was twenty-four, a head and a half taller than I, and arms big enough to wrap around me twice; while I was stuck at the age of nineteen, doomed to watch him grow and die; my final link to my old life.

            Abigail Aldurn. The name was no longer me, but it held my past life in it. She and I were no longer the same.

            Domina Moralitas, Domina Moralitas, I repeated to myself. That is my name now. I cannot dwell on the past.

            Upon the ground I sat, surrounded by the leaves, painted the colour of fire, untameable spirit. I leaned my head back against the big old oak tree that hid me from the sun.

            The sun hung in the sky, as if strung up by fishing wire over the glinting sea. I no longer belonged in that world. The tombstones before me were my life now. The souls that resided here were my life now.

            And yet the sun shone through the branches of my oak tree, invading and intruding my space, stealing the darkness from my weary fingertips.

            Fallen rose petals danced in the breeze that conquered the cliff and robbed me of my peace. Dead rose bushes littered my land. Beautiful with the spreading warmth of spring and summer, they were now dead. Their petals danced and pirouetted in the wind, dancing their final dance.

            Everything beautiful must die.

            Was I to defy that rule?

            Knees bent into my chest, I leaned my head into them, my skin sucked back to my ribs, which seemed fused to my spine.

            So terribly thin.

            Am I beautiful?

            Everything beautiful must die.  

             Well, I am dead. The wooden cross marks my place.

But what about Domina Moralitas? Will she perish and let my soul rest at peace; devoid of this agonizing loneliness?

I turn my head to look at the dancing rose petals, gracefully twirling in their new found freedom.

I knew the answer: no. I will never be free. While souls are set free to the skies above, I have chosen this: to be condemned to this earthy hell in the body of an empress, who is not allowed to love or be loved.

Isolated.

The wind carried upon it the voices of my companions, speaking not to me, but anyone who would listen.

The crunch of leaves drew my attention.

I glanced up, around the tombstone in front of me.

My heart ached, and I drew my hair over, shadowing my eyes.

“Hello? Is anybody here?”

I straightened my dress, and neatly retied my strappy red sandals.

I stood, hiding my eyes.

He was still, his clothes an attempt to be respectful, his hair dishevelled. I felt his sorrowful eyes upon me.

“Why did you return?” I asked softly.

He slowly came towards me. “You know something I don’t. You knew my sister, didn’t you?”

I shook my head.

“You knew where her grave was.”

“I spend much time up here.”

He bent down, trying to look into my eyes. I quickly turned my head, backing away a few paces.

“Who are you?” he asked desperately.

“Nobody important.”

“You knew my sister.”

“I did not.”

“I want answers!” he almost yelled, his deep voice sounding harsh.

Tears welled in my eyes. I wanted to tell him. I knew I was hurting him, and I wanted to hold my little five year old brother in my arms, and rock him back and forth, singing softly the hymns our mother once sang, so long ago.

He lowered his voice, embarrassed, and softly said, “Please, you knew my sister and I just want to know her, too. She was my last chance for a family, and when I found out she was gone…”

His voice trailed off.

I looked down, closing my eyes, hoping he wouldn’t witness my tears.

His voice cracked, “I need to know her. I have only one memory: after the fire, while my father, her and I were in a motel, my father took to alcohol. When he was drunk and out, or crying, or yelling, and I was scared out of my mind, she would cradle me, and sing to me. She had the voice of an angel. She made me feel safe.”

I bit my lip, praying he wouldn’t notice the salty trails my tears had left on my tissue paper thin skin.

“The day they took me away, she promised me it wouldn’t be forever. She promised me she would come back to me and we could be a family again.”

Guilt overwhelmed my senses, and I knelt down in the dirt, hanging my head.

So I lied: “She was devastated after all that had happened. She had a teenage pregnancy when she was sixteen, after you were taken away. I’m her daughter.”

He was silent.

“She told me many stories about you. Uncle Noah.”

He knelt silently in front of me. “You’re her daughter?”

I paused, and hesitantly nodded.

He breathed a soft sigh, and paused for a moment. “Why didn’t you tell me yesterday?”

I waited. “I wasn’t sure if you were who I thought you were.”

“She died when you were two or three?”

“Around there.” I said quietly. “I was young, I don’t remember much.”

“Where did you go from there? Did you live with our father? I mean Abbie’s and my father?”

“No. He died a little earlier than her. I stayed with my father’s family.”

He was quiet as he spoke; I felt the sorrow in his voice, “What’s your name?”

I paused. Domina Moralitas? “My mother named me Sabelle.”

“Sabelle,” Noah smiled delicately, between sadness and joy. “That was our other sister’s name.”

“Yeah, after Aunt Sabelle; she passed away in the house fire.”

Noah nodded. “She was your Mom’s twin.”

I nodded, “They were close.”

“Close is an understatement. You could not separate those two. Your mother was devastated when she lost Sabelle.”  

            I nodded.

            “How old are you now, Sabelle?” Noah asked gently, trying to push away my hair.

            I pulled away, “I’m nineteen.”

            “Where are you living now?”

            “I have a place in the city.” I lied.

            “If you ever need a place to stay…” he trailed off again.

            I nodded.

            “You’re my niece,” he whispered almost inaudibly in disbelief.

            I snuck a peak at his face, and saw his head bent low as tears rolled down his cheeks.

            “Please don’t cry,” I begged him quietly, “Don’t be sad.”

            He smiled cautiously, and looked up reassuringly at me, “I’m not sad. I’m just now realizing that my hopes of having a family aren’t gone. I’m happy. And I owe it to Abbie to make sure you’re ok.”

            I nodded, “I am.”

            He reached for my hair, trying to push it back.

            I pulled back again, twisting my head, “No.”

            “What’s wrong?”

            “I can’t.”

            “Can’t what?”

            I hesitated. “Nothing.”

            “Please, let me look into your eyes. Let me see the beautiful eyes that my sister has passed onto my last remaining family.”

            “I can’t.” I stated, trying to think up an excuse.

            “Why?” he asked softly, sadly.

            “I just can’t.”

            “Abbie was self-conscious, too.”

            “Please don’t.”

            “Sabelle, I just want to know the only thing in this world it seems my sister has left behind.”

            “It’s not worth it.” I pleaded.

            “I loved my sister so much. I miss her so much. You look just like her. You have her voice, the voice of an angel.”

            He reached forward and gently touched my hair with his fingers, hesitantly, waiting for me to pull back.

            I closed my eyes and silently prayed to my Master to let Noah be.

            He carefully caressed my long, black hair, unsure, before pushing it back and tucking it behind my ear. He slowly pushed the other side back, and carefully put his fingers beneath my chin, lifting it slowly up from the earth.

            Should I open my eyes? Should I look at my brother? Should I give him what he longs to have, even if it condemns him to his death?

            I took a deep breath, and opened my large black eyes, to look into his.

            His eyes, glinting with the salty tears reflected me, just as the ocean did.

            Warm tears overwhelmed my cold cheeks and I keeled over, my face in my knees and my arms over my head, as my thin rib cage shook with sobs, my back heaving heavily with guilt.

            “Oh, Sabs, please don’t cry.” He said softly, “It’s ok. It’s really ok.”

            I shook my head, “No, it’s not.” I cried, “You don’t understand.”

            “Understand what?”

            My sobs were uncontrollable. Can I really tell him?

            “You shouldn’t have come back.” I cried almost screaming at him. I pulled myself up, still heaving with my guilt. I grasped his face in my hands gently, as I looked into his glinting, brilliant blue eyes.

            I turned my head as I sobbed, “Oh Master, oh Lord,” I sobbed, screaming as I let my hands fall to the moist earth, “please, let him live.”

            I keeled back into my knees, my hands over my head as I screamed, “What have I done?! Oh Master, dear sweet Lord of the Earth, please, please, let him live!”

            But the voice in my head spoke. My Master’s deep, manipulating voice: Play neither by day, nor in light, relish your shadows; for whoever sees your face, your eyes in particular, and seeks your adoration, they are the next soul you must collect for me.

            I sobbed, I begged, my voice screeched, wrecked with agony, “Master, sweet lord, please, NO.”

            But his voice rumbled yet again, like an earthquake in my mind, causing the useless heart that lay dormant in my chest, which had stopped beating long ago, to vibrant incessantly.

            Dear, sweet fool. My Domina Moralitas, you are yet but a child. An ignorant, stupid, young child: You had been warned. Listen, and listen well. My instructions are never to be disobeyed. You could have spared him, but you are yet young, and thus have doomed him. In a week he will be mine. Let this be a lesson to you.

            You belong to me. Though many adore you, you are never to be loved by anyone but me. Worshipped by my followers, but never loved. You are never to love anyone but me. Dear sweet fool, my Domina Moralitas, you are mine.

 

Author's Note

In progress.