The following three days passed in a haze. I don't remember much. I drifted in and out of consciousness frequently. I only remember soft footsteps and voices that managed to pierce through the haze.
I didn't have the energy nor the willingness to stay awake longer than a few minutes at a time.
I remember hands encircling my body, soft humming. Some sort of chant. Being lifted off my supposed bed and being carried away. Through the thick of my eyelids, light pierced through. But I was tired, too tired to even make an effort to open my eyes. I guess death hasn't been merciful enough to grant me my final wish and come for me before they did.
The chant got louder and the lights brighter. When I was placed on a cold slab of stone, I finally mustered enough strength to open my eyes. I took in the intricate carvings on the ceiling that appeared to be some sort of markings. Nothing like I had ever seen before. I wasn't even sure I was on planet Earth any longer. The chant continued, getting increasingly louder, and harmonious. I could feel their voices in the depths of my bones rendering me even more powerless than I already was. For some reason, their chant had some sort of hypnotic effect on me. Because I found myself chanting with them even though I didn't know the words, nor speak the language that they spoke.
The cupola covering the temple slid open, revealing a breathtaking blood moon. Its light washed over me and captured me under its spell. Even if I couldn't, I knew I wouldn't be able to move. My body didn't feel like my own. It felt like someone or something else was behind the helm. I tried to speak but I found I couldn't get my mouth to open, or my tongue to move. I was paralysed.
I was definitely not the one navigating this sinking ship anymore.
The chant slowly came to a halt and I heard steps closing in around me and then more than a dozen faces came into my view. I tried to lift my hand, but it felt like it weighed a thousand tons.
Eventually, Micah's face appeared into view, holding a ceremonial dagger. And I say a ceremonial dagger because it was bejewelled with blood-red rubies and was marked with the same marking as the ceiling.
With the moon as my only witness, I vowed that if I ever cross paths with him in the afterlife, I will kill him, slowly and painfully. I know it seems a little redundant since he would be already dead. But what harm could do in making sure?
Lowering his hand, Micah began carving my forehead. I felt every slice, every time the tip dug into my skin, every twitch of his hand, every rounded carving, every slip of his hand. I was at their mercy and they had none. My throat was locked, my tongue was tied and I was a prisoner inside my own body. I wanted to scream in pain, to thrash, kick and curse. And do all the things, I wanted to do but I was too chicken to do it while I was able to.
My heart was beating, barely, sensing that the thin rope that was binding me to the earthly realm was about to snap. It too had given up the fight, just like I had.
Once Micah was done carving my forehead, he moved onto my cheeks, at the most painfully torturous pace. He moved onto my neck next, and finally but not least onto my legs.
I could see his lips moving but I couldn't hear him speak. I don't know whether the chant had removed my ability to hear or it could have been because of the ringing in my ears which got louder each time he dug his knife into my flesh.
I focused on the moon, to distract myself from the way he'd used the dagger to slash my skin, but I knew I'd remember every mark he'd made on my skin because it was not only etched on my body, it was also etched in my mind, and the very depths of my soul. And I knew even in death the memory of it would haunt me for an eternity.
Once he'd finished with my legs, he'd moved onto the soles of my feet. And I realised that it must be some binding ritual because he'd carved my face, neck, hands, legs and feet. I didn't read much about the arcane arts, but what I knew was sufficient to know that they were using some sort of magic.
Enid would probably have a heart attack if I told her that what she thought to be mumbo-jumbo was actually very real.
When Micah pressed the edge of his dagger onto the sole of my foot, the sharp pain that lanced through me pulled a grunt from deep within my chest.
" You need to hurry, " I recognised the voice as belonging to Nadia and sure enough her face appeared hovering over mine etched with concern. Surely, not for my well-being.
The soles of my feet was the worst part. Whatever spell they put me under, was wearing off, and the dull pang of pain I felt when he'd carved other parts of me, I felt it tenfold this time around.
My senses were returning to me, and I began to feel the blood as it trickled over my face, arms, and legs. He'd dug deep into my skin, no doubt. Another sharp jolt of pain when he finished scoring one foot, and the grunt coming from within my chest was louder this time.
When Micah finished scoring my other foot, my voice had returned to its full capacity and an ear-shattering scream echoed through the night. It was my scream.
It was full of rage, at the people surrounding me. A vow of vengeance, even though I knew I wouldn't be able to uphold that vow. I would be well and truly gone, once they were done with me.
Nadia began to panic and rushed over to Micah, " You're taking too long," She said pleadingly, and she wasn't wrong the moon had gone out of view. He must've taken hours to do the carving.
" You worry for nothing," Micah calmly said, placed the dagger down and began chanting again.
The others followed, and once again I felt any strength I had regained in the short breather drain out of me once more.
" Shay," I whispered before my voice was taken away from me once more, but it was too low to be heard over the increasingly loud chant.