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Alchemy & Empathy (Thereisalight x Leviathan)


        A ferocious strike of lightning was all it had taken to transform the young woman’s chances of survival from possible to outright improbable. The cacophonous bolt had struck down a tree barely five meters from the galloping mare and once spooked, the horse had reared on its back legs and sent its rider tumbling over the saddle with a scream. Sylvia felt her very breath escape her lungs as she crashed against the frozen earth. Stars danced before her eyes and a striking pain seized her left ankle, her ears ringing with the sounds of her panicked horse. She’d regained her senses just in time to watch the palomino take off into the darkness of night and snow; and along with it all her belongings.

        True fear conquered her mind in that moment. She was too far into the woods to turn back; and though she was more than halfway to her destination, she would have to go forth without compass or map. The sharp blasts of arctic wind whipped her face and limbs violently, the winter travelling cloak she clutched around her body seeming as thin as paper now that it had been drenched through by the constant buffering of snow and frozen rain. Since her dry change of clothes had disappeared with the mare she had been riding, she’d have to press on in nothing but the cloak and winter dress. Although, considering how the clothing clutched wetly to her shaking figure, it would provide almost the same amount of protection as if she had been wandering around the forest in the nude.

        Sylvia attempted to stagger to her feet, determination above all else dragging her forward. Yet even that endeavour proved to be a challenge and she cried out loud when the jarring pain in her ankle made itself known once again. She should have been thankful the fall hadn’t snapped her neck; of course walking away completely unharmed would have been too much to ask for. She could see the tears welling up around her vision and further diminishing her already meagre line of sight. Striking emerald irises clouded over, the amber-and-gold flecks around her pupils blurred into a gilded circlet while the tears stung her eyes and she cursed herself again and again.

        Weak. You’re so weak... What are you doing crying when you know that your sister is still suffering? What sort of pathetic girl are you to go out for help and end up dead in the woods? Are you just going to give up and die, you coward? The words of her own conscience berated her mercilessly. Beyond her tears, that same image of her sister’s golden hair fanned out across the pillow flashed across her vision. Once-rosy cheeks growing more and more pale by the week as she offered up a reassuring smile nevertheless. Those blue eyes spoke volumes of the fire still burning within but today... Today...

        “No! To hell with that!” Sylvia yelled into the snowy darkness.



        It had taken her a little under one hour to finally catch sight of the house, hidden among a copse of trees in the darkness; she would have missed it if not for the firelight burning within. If she had the strength, she would have started crying in relief. Yet, at this point, she only was able to stand purely because she knew that a single break in her step would have meant never getting up again. The pain in her ankle had spread with her limping gait, swelling the better part of her foot and the lower half of her shin—it was a wonder she hadn’t collapsed somewhere along the way. Perhaps it was true what they said about the human body having a hidden wealth of strength for times of true need. And in this moment, utterly drained of all possible vigour, that was the only thing allowing her to raise her hand to the door and rap her knuckles against the frosted wood.

        The only thing that really registered in her mind when the door finally opened was the rush of warmth that emanated from inside. The feeling also served to remind her exactly how cold she was. And although the young woman was indeed aware of the figure looking down at her apprehensively, all her eyes could focus on was the light that glowed from beyond his silhouette. Despite the tone of his voice, Sylvia could have sworn that she’d never heard sweeter words than those he spoke.

        “Th-thank... you...” she whispered faintly in response.

        Her own voice came out incredibly coarse and thin as if the cold had stolen her words as well as her warmth. Perhaps it was the knowledge that she had reached refuge, or perhaps it was the strain of the extra step she had to climb over in order to enter the house; but as soon as she stepped within the sanctuary of warmth, she collapsed to her knees. Her dress and cloak pooled around her shivering form, making her seem all the smaller. The drenched material dripped small streams of water onto the ground as the small piles of snow that had collected in the niches of the cloth began to melt. Even her hair began to defrost within seconds, the auburn locks plastered messily to her cheeks though even with the weight of water the twisting waves did not make it quite past her shoulders. More worrisome than the snow was the way her entire frame trembled uncontrollably—it had evolved beyond the simple shudders of cold and into an insistent quaking that overtook her entire body. Somewhere in the back of her mind it dawned on her that she had already started burning up with a fever.

 
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