The mattress is very comfortable, and the music gentle. Her exhausted mind follows it as a stream follows the softly guiding hand of gravity, and, like the stream, begins to wend its way through the stones and rocks in its path.
There is no response to his words. Her hands have fallen loose in her lap, and her large green eyes are unfocused, blinking slow and heavy.
She stands in the midst of mountaintops wreathed with clouds. The air smells of water and moss. The gentle plucking of the guqin mixes with the playful tinkle of running streams. Across from her stands a man her own age. He smiles at her – but is smile is not for her. It is for Lan Wanji, who steps the the man and embraces him.
Behind them, a red ribbon coils from the man in black's hair, and slowly winds around his wrist. She tries to call out, but her voice is gone — the ribbon tugs – the man is dragged from Lan Wangji's arms and vanishes into the mist. She reaches out a hand and the red ribbon leaps from the mists and stabs into her palm. Gasping, she pulls her hand to herself, but the ribbon has disappeared. Her palm has instead filled with blood.
It floats in the center of this red pool: the rose of Shaerawedd.
"Lan Zhan, this is not real."
It is not her voice. This voice is flat, neutral, deeper than her own. "You lost him. You found him. You will lose him again. And when you do, the Shadow will fall upon the Twin Jades of Lan."
A whip, cracking purple with electricity, lashes at her and she cries out: someone catches her wrist and tugs her into a stumbling run. She cries out again, this time in fear: the face of her rescuer is that of a skull. Golden eyes blaze, and shadow smokes about the blade of the longsword she holds.
In the room, Ciri sighs out a breath. "The Shadow follows more than just you. Harrowhark! This is the second death. You will build your church on this rock and your eyes will run dry as the desert for your weeping. She is gone; you have buried her. Dry your golden eyes, dear child, blessed daughter. She will never leave you."
Her voice changes again; it recites: "For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law. And a person's enemies will be those of his own household."
no subject
There is no response to his words. Her hands have fallen loose in her lap, and her large green eyes are unfocused, blinking slow and heavy.
She stands in the midst of mountaintops wreathed with clouds. The air smells of water and moss. The gentle plucking of the guqin mixes with the playful tinkle of running streams. Across from her stands a man her own age. He smiles at her – but is smile is not for her. It is for Lan Wanji, who steps the the man and embraces him.
Behind them, a red ribbon coils from the man in black's hair, and slowly winds around his wrist. She tries to call out, but her voice is gone — the ribbon tugs – the man is dragged from Lan Wangji's arms and vanishes into the mist. She reaches out a hand and the red ribbon leaps from the mists and stabs into her palm. Gasping, she pulls her hand to herself, but the ribbon has disappeared. Her palm has instead filled with blood.
It floats in the center of this red pool: the rose of Shaerawedd.
"Lan Zhan, this is not real."
It is not her voice. This voice is flat, neutral, deeper than her own. "You lost him. You found him. You will lose him again. And when you do, the Shadow will fall upon the Twin Jades of Lan."
A whip, cracking purple with electricity, lashes at her and she cries out: someone catches her wrist and tugs her into a stumbling run. She cries out again, this time in fear: the face of her rescuer is that of a skull. Golden eyes blaze, and shadow smokes about the blade of the longsword she holds.
In the room, Ciri sighs out a breath. "The Shadow follows more than just you. Harrowhark! This is the second death. You will build your church on this rock and your eyes will run dry as the desert for your weeping. She is gone; you have buried her. Dry your golden eyes, dear child, blessed daughter. She will never leave you."
Her voice changes again; it recites: "For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law. And a person's enemies will be those of his own household."