As Silence Falls

All I can think about in these moments of silence are not thoughts that I would expect myself to have. Silence means that I should be reflecting on these past few hours to days I have been awake and processing all of this, but all I can think about is how the fabric of my dress itches my skin. I was buried in this dress, put to rest in such an uncomfortable outfit because the dead do not care what they are put in. Over and over my fingers scratch at the material, the small gemstones rubbed into my skin as the pain is not something I stray away from, as if the pain reminds me that I am alive. It is not a way to remind myself that I am alive, but rather a way to know I can experience pain, as if for however long I have been dead I have needed to feel something, whether it be pain of perhaps an emotion like joy or sorrow.

The soft wind pulls me back to the scenery before me, the small garden before me as I sit out on the patio of the house, the moonlight draped across the world as I take in a deep breath. Fiona showed me around briefly a few hours ago, telling me where different rooms were and if I needed anything where to find it. She said Zion had taken a car into the town, having business to attend to as I wanted to ask what kind of business, but decided I would be better off not knowing. Not because it is none of my business, but because I know to save my questions for when the time is right. Besides, this man called me a shell, something that struck me as harsh and bitter as I still hear those words repeated in my mind.

But is Zion all I have left in this world? He says how he needs me back, making me wonder if it is just his selfish actions talking, or if no one else needs me back. My parents, I know I must at least have parents, wondering if they even know of my revival, of the darkness which brought me back. I know I am a werewolf, I know that much about myself that I am not human, but I feel human in this moment. Perhaps this is what humans feel like on the inside, feeling all hollow because they have no wolf within them. I am a werewolf, yet there is no wolf within me which calls my name, trying to resurface with my help.

Leaning back, I put my feet up on the small table beside me, closing my eyes tightly as I try and think, try and locate any part of my memories that might just resurface and allow me to remember a bit of who I am...was. A sudden tapping on the wall beside me pulls my attention to the witch who stares out to the garden before us. "As a child I swore to myself that I would fix the curse placed upon my coven, my family and friends," Fiona begins, crossing her arms as her face has lost any emotion. "My parents thought I was going to grow out of that dream as all children outgrow their dreams, for dreams are just silly beliefs. Besides, this curse has been in my coven for centuries, accepting the fact that we will never be free."

"What is this curse exactly?"

"It is the reason why so many witches seek immortality," she responds, "to keep death away as long as we can before he plucks us from our lives." Taking a seat across from me, the witch holds out her palm, a flash of lightening striking her hand, the light blinding me, a ringing in my ear causing me to cover my ears, and I stare at the witch who is unharmed, her other hand trapping the narrow bolt within her palm as she tries hard to press her hands together. Palms together, the lightening enters her skin, veins almost glowing within her flesh as those eyes shine a bright green. But something is off, for as Fiona rolls up her sleeve, I see her flesh turning black around her upper arm, as if spreading further down to her elbow. "The more magic we use, the faster our bodies decay until we turn to ash. Our powers are limited, our days numbered, and the afterlife only means we will become Ixion within the Greek tale of Zeus binding him to an eternally burning wheel."

"So when you die, your soul burns upon a wheel for eternity," I process, trying to think what my eternal slumber was like before it was disturbed.

"Many of my coven have left, swearing off magic as they believe that if they use no magic, this afterlife will not apply to them, but the curse runs through their blood, not their actions." Rolling up her shirt, Fiona exposes her torso to me, a torso covered in black skin, golden symbols almost glowing in the skin as they rest on her rib cage. "Bringing you back from the dead turned my stomach black. I have risked much of my existence to bring you back, so that bastard better break this curse."

"So if I remember the curse is broken, and if I stay this way forever, your coven never sees an end to this torment." Nodding, the witch watches me with a slight glare as I know why she is not pleased with my existence. "And although you have already brought me back and paid your end of the agreement, Zion will not pay his end until I remember...which may never happen."

The witch puts down her shirt, her feet placed on the floor as she quickly rises, straightening out her shirt as she suddenly laughs, shaking her head as she allows a darkness to surround her. "You see, Sybil, something Zion forgot to study about bringing someone back is the fact that the one who resurrects you can also send you back to that eternal slumber, well, any eternal slumber." This is no longer a conversation of someone trying to help me out. "I control your destiny, Sybil, for I brought you back from the dead, so I can send you back if you cannot get Zion to break the curse, and I can send you into any eternal slumber, whether it be one of peace or one of you forever burning on a wheel."

"You little bit-

"Remember you are within the palm of my hand here, Sybil, and you need to convince Zion to break the curse."

"I cannot remember," I refute, trying to have her cut me some slack here as a part of me wants to remain alive within this world. "You know I cannot remember who I was."

Silence, Fiona grabbing from her pocket her phone, scanning her finger to unlock it as she hands me the device. "Sybil Black was known for her kind heart and forgiveness, able to persuade Zion in ways no one could, for him to see a different side to every story. Look up who you were, find out who you were, and perhaps you may find yourself recalling who you are to Zion."

I cannot recall Fiona leaving me along to the thoughts that drown me, the tide strong as I stare at the blue line travel across the screen, biting my lip as I only realize my hands are shaking when I lose hold of the phone. Catching it fast, the moment I turn the device over and the screen shows the image of a young woman a complete copy of myself, I see the title, the days I lived on this earth, and a brief summary of my life. The search engine holds the icon of a full moon, allowing me to know this search engine is one for the supernatural community only, the website telling me everything I need to know about who I was to the supernatural community.

Queen Sybil, spouse of Alpha King Zion, born August 26 1997, died December 25, 2016.

I cannot read further, amazed by the title I held. Queen, something I would never have expected myself to achieve. I was nineteen, barely even an adult before I was murdered. But how long has it been since that day? My fingers move fast upon the phone, the current date displayed as I find my vision blurry, head aching, and teeth digging in sharp to my lip. I've been dead a little over two years...my soul still fresh in the world of the dead before it was plucked and thrown into this body. Going back to looking myself up, I see if I have family, only to find their names and the date of their deaths, both dying on the same day as it was reported that they died in a car crash.

Eyes water, tears falling down my face as I look at an image of myself, a crown placed upon my head, white dress perfectly fitting my body, a glowing smile upon my face, and Zion at my side as he looks at me like I am his world. The day of my wedding and coronation, an event that was celebrated all around a kingdom that loved a rogue Queen, a rogue banished by an alpha named Sebastian who died within the palace for his actions against the crown. I was a woman of grace, respect, poise, kindness, mercy, bravery, wisdom, and a Queen who even the elves showed up to my funeral. Looking up from Fiona's phone, a pair of lavender eyes cross my mind, sparking a bit of remembrance as a name pops into my head. Keva.

Scrolling to the top of the page, I type in the name, biting my cheek as I wait for the results. Fifteen different names pop up with the same first name. I click on every single one, trying to find the woman with the lavender eyes, my body tense as I keep seeing those eyes. No good, no woman with lavender eyes shown as I run a hand through my hair. Going back to my name on the screen, just as I click on another article, a knock at the doorway beside me pulls my eyes away from the glowing screen with the royal crest at the top.

Zion stands there, the man I must convince to break the curse as something tells me Fiona will only give me a limited amount of time which will not be generous. "Are you trying to discover who you were?" Zion asks, walking onto the patio where I stand, head titled to the side as he watches me.

"I was," I admit, looking down to the screen briefly, only to read something that shatters my reality.

The phone drops, Zion moving faster than human as he catches it before it even passes my waist. As he straightens his posture, his scent envelops me, his body closer than before as a piece of me feels sorry for him. "You did not just lose me that day, but our child too."

The world falls silent as I wonder what happened in my last life.