Death Denied

Ren's limbs dangled like butchered meat, the shadow tendril still jutting through his abdomen. Blood poured from him in thick streams, soaking the dark coils that held him aloft.

"Still…alive," He wheezed at the sight of blood, the words gurgling in his throat.

He raised a trembling hand toward her—barely—but his arm refused to go farther than a few inches before it spasmed violently. The muscles twitched, then fell limp again. His entire body began to convulse as nerves misfired. His fingers curled loosely. His legs kicked once, then dangled again. His lungs rattled as blood filled them.

And still, Nocstella did nothing.

Just watching him fade.

Then—softly—her voice broke the silence.

"Tell me, Hollow..."

Ren tried to lift his head. His neck barely obeyed. His eyes rolled toward her, unfocused.

She stepped closer, her pale hand rising—not to strike, not to heal, but to gesture.

"Why did you follow her voice?" She asked. "Eva's…"

Nocstella tilted her head, stepping beneath him now, so he loomed directly overhead again. She placed her hand on the base of the tendril holding Ren hostage in the air.

"She pleaded for help...and you followed. Even in the back of your mind, you believed it all to be a lie...Could it be..." Her crimson eyes shimmered as she looked up to him before continuing. "Did it remind you of that night?"

Ren coughed violently in response, blood spilling over his lips.

"You've forgotten, haven't you?" Nocstella asked gently. "You've died too many times. It seems the edges of who you were have already begun to fray...Very well, may I remind you..."

Ren twitched violently, trying to jerk away. "Don't—"

But she kept going.

"Outside...just beyond the trees behind your house. She'd gone where no one could follow. Poor soul, broken down by the cruel world. And you—you needed too much, didn't you?"

Ren's mouth opened, but no sound came.

"You were always sick. Always needing something. And even though she loved you… she couldn't do it anymore."

She sighed, pulling her palm off the blackened tendril. "I remember...You'd woken up crying. There were monsters in your room. You thought they were hiding in the corners, under your bed. You called out to her, but there was no response. She would always come when you cried before. Every time, no matter the circumstances. Even when your father yelled. Even when she was deeply ill. But that night…"

Ren let out a broken, rasping breath. "Don't."

"…she didn't come." Nocstella continued, as if she hadn't heard him. "So you got out of bed to look for her. You limped through the hallway. Past the bathroom. Past the kitchen. Calling for her, whispering her name...But she was already gone."

Her gaze narrowed on Ren.

"The back door was cracked open...You thought she might have stepped out for fresh air. But she wasn't there...Your tiny hands shook when you stepped into the woods in search of her. You were barefoot. The ground was cold. You called out to her over and over.

Ren began to whimper. A real, childlike sound.

"And when you found her, swinging from the branch, her nightgown caught on the wind—what did you do then, Hollow?"

"No…" Ren rasped, his voice ruined. "Shut…up…"

"You touched her feet," Nocstella murmured. "You thought she was asleep."

"Shut...up..."

"You called her name…and when she didn't answer, you pulled on her leg. Just enough for her body to spin. The sound...the creak of the rope. The thud of her heel tapping against the trunk. And your soft sob, Hollow." 

Tears now mingled with the blood drying on his face.

"You stayed with her," She whispered, eyes half-lidded, as if reliving it herself. "All night. You sat beneath her corpse until morning came. Too afraid to go back inside. Too afraid to be alone with your father. So you just sat there...waiting."

Ren no longer had any strength left, his eyes slowly shutting.

"Don't you see now?" Nocstella asked, as if genuinely curious. "The voice that called to you in the dark...was hers."

The tendril shifted slightly, tightening just enough to draw out another gout of blood. Ren gave no response now—only shallow, weakening breaths, the last remnants of his strength bleeding into the wind.

"You didn't run to save Eva. You ran because you believed—somewhere deep inside—that if you followed that voice long enough...you'd find your mother again." She said, voice as soft as silk. "But she's gone, Hollow. She chose to leave you. And she didn't even say goodbye."

Nocstella watched him closely.

The silence was a confirmation.

He had nothing left.

Even his hatred, his defiance, his fury at the sight of her, drained dry.

"Go on, now," She whispered. "Close your eyes."

From the soil beneath him, and the sky above, from the blackened trees surrounding the glade, they answered.

Dozens of tendrils appeared.

They rose with dreadful elegance, slow and deliberate, coiling through the air like ribbons. Twisted in synchronized spirals, they began to form a black halo around his broken body.

Then—

They struck

Crack

One drove through his right thigh, blowing the femur apart in a spray of marrow and pulverized bone.

Splurch

Another pierced through the space just beneath his ribs, exiting through his back with a gout of blood.

Crunch

Another tendril curled around his neck—like a lover's hand, delicate at first—before yanking down. The vertebrae split. His head fell sideways, almost detached.

Squelch

Another plunged into his gasping mouth, punching straight through his tongue, out the back of his throat, and deep into the ground behind him, pinning his head in place like a spear through a hunted beast.

His body writhed in place—barely.

Then slumped.

Still impaled.

Still twitching.

The final tendril came slowly and elegantly.

It approached from above, twisting down like a serpent descending from heaven.

It hovered at first, poised just above the top of his head.

Nocstella stepped beneath him, blood dripping softly onto her shoulders from where his body hung, suspended and punctured like a grotesque constellation.

And she looked up one last time.

Her voice was almost a whisper.

"She never said goodbye to you, Hollow…So let me say it for her."

Her eyes softened.

"Goodnight."

Shlunk

The final tendril drove downward, straight through the top of Ren's skull. 

It shattered like porcelain. His head jerked, then went limp grotesquely to one side as the tendril twisted once—then withdrew with a wet, sucking sound.

The tendrils retracted one by one, each of them leaving with slow, almost reverent grace. Some slithered back into the ground. Others curled skyward like smoke and vanished.

All that remained was Ren's mangled corpse.

Barely a shape anymore.

Nocstella stood over him in silence, fingers interlocked in front of her.

Her bare feet settled softly in the red.

Then she turned—her shadow long in the dying light—and walked slowly.

She waited, knowing Ren would rise again.