Rise — Alessa (Patreon)

You don't know exactly what is wrong. You just know that it hurts.

It hurts. It hurts as you've barely felt before. Pain lacerates you; it crashes against you; it swallows you whole like a tide that just keeps rising and rising until it sweeps over your mouth, and you have no more air to breathe. You cannot breathe, you can barely think. Pain, red and hot and all-encompassing, spreads from the very top of your head to the lowest point of your toes.

Pain.

And you exist no more, outside of a shell that wants nothing else but to run away from it. Far away, at the very edge of your shrinking conscience, you can feel your cheek being pressed against hard ground. There is sand, rough and invading, on your tongue, and something warm and sticky is slowly falling down your forehead. You can see the world as if you look from the bottom of a well that is so deep, it burrows through the earth and arrives at the gates of Hell. An open blue sky, a vast orange plain, and feet. Too many feet, too many bodies. Steel and red, sounds of screams and grunts. You see it all through a narrowed window, down from your place in Hell.

But then pain flashes once more, and even that slips away. You don't know if your eyes close or if you simply lose your vision, but it doesn't matter because life loses meaning. You want to cling to it, but it hurts so much, and you feel yourself falling, feel your body slumping, feel the—

Five nails on your arm. Yanking.

"Rise."

A command, but it leaves no space to obey it, because the fingers yank you once again, and you stumble onto your knees. "Do not dare to quit," the voice says, like a hissing that stabs through the pain to embed itself deep in your chest. An arrow made of ice, freezing you awake.

You clench your teeth, feeling metal on your tongue, and force your head up. The world sways, sunlight like shards of frost digging into your eyes, but you open them all the same because you see her.

Alessa.

She's standing over you, one hand clutching a knife, her hair swaying with the violent wind, her pale arms stained with fresh, bright red. But it's her eyes you focus on as the world turns dark at the corners. Blue as piercing as her voice and even sharper. "Do not dare," Alessa says, canines flashing in a snarl. She yanks your arm again, harder than before, the gesture not controlled but wild. Urgent.

Alessa's voice is cold, and her touch is hard, but beneath it all, you can sense her fear. And that will not do. "I'm not a quitter," you rasp out, fighting against every nerve to stand up. Your legs feel like shifting sand, but somehow, they manage to support you. Your head pulses and pain spreads from your nape, but you fight it. You fight it all, taking a step towards her. "You should know that by now, Alessa."

You drag your boot to take the next step, smiling a red smile at her freckles, when the world shifts and the ground rises to meet you—

Alessa throws your arm over her shoulders. "I have you," she gasps, bucking under your weight. You can see the sweat on her brow, mixing with the blood on her cheek. You want to wipe it away, but all your strength is saved to make sure you can drag yourself after her. Alessa starts walking, nails digging into your wrist, and it hurts.

But you cling to that pain, for it's a thousand times better than the other one. The one that wants to pull you under. "There is shelter ahead." Alessa's voice speaks beside your ear. You hadn't realized you had closed your eyes again. "Just... do not fall asleep. Do you understand me?"

You nod, fighting back nausea. The world is spinning, so you focus on her eyes. They glance around, never stopping, following what you reckon is the end of the fight. Shouts still rise to the air, but it seems that, so far, you've managed to keep from being detected.

"Do you understand me?" Alessa asks, looking at you, and you can only smile when you see the blue once again. But she is beautiful. "Darling one?"

Her brows knit together in clear concern, and speaking is so hard, but you'll be damned if you don't answer. "I do," you say, voice much too weak for your taste. "I do, gorgeous."

You try to smile but end up grimacing instead. Your bloody head hurts so much, and your left eye has just gone dark. "I—"

Pain.

"No!" You hear her voice from so far away. Her precious, precious voice. And it pains you so much, to hear the terror laced in it. It pains you so much, but you can't answer because you crash to the ground, and conscience flees once and for all.

- - -

Fire cackles in a soothing thrum.

The sound flickers against your ears, soft and shy, like little licks that slowly pull you from the darkness. You were nothing, but moment by moment, you begin to be aware. Of the soft cover over you, of your bare feet, of the dryness of your mouth. And the splitting headache that wants to break your skull in two.

"Ugh," you groan. It hurts like hell, but you're no longer in Hell. This pain is nothing like the other. It doesn't threaten death, it reminds you of life instead. "Lord's nails."

You cough, becoming aware of your whole body now. Your legs ache, but you're lying down, so they don't need to support you. Your ribs sting, but you can breathe. You're thirsty, but you smack your lips and find that your throat isn't completely closed. And when you open your eyes, blinking away dry tears at the corners, you find yourself in a gloomy, dark cavern.

Fire cackles beside you, sprouting from a few blocks of timber, too small and feeble to be called a firepit. But the gentle flames heat your skin, and the sound matches the rhythm of your heartbeat. Its glow bathes the low ceiling, rocks cut naturally into the earth, and you see a small pot over the flames with steam rising from it. The smell of stew comes to meet you too, and besides your thirst, you feel a twist on your stomach.

It's pleasant, this little corner you woke up into. Pleasant but much too silent. And much too lonely. Suppressing another groan, you put an elbow behind your back so you can sit up. Your vision sways for a moment, but you can see the shape on the other side of the firepit all the same. Squatted down on the ground, her hair falling over her face, and two piercing eyes on you.

Silence.

Your stomach twists again, but not because of hunger. "... Alessa?" you ask, your voice cutting the silence like a knife.

She remains still and quiet.

You can't see her properly, but she doesn't appear hurt. Is she hurt? "Are you alright?" you ask next, shifting closer. Your head feels heavier than usual, but you'll crawl to her if you must. "Did something happen?"

"You are awake," Alessa says in a neutral, almost dead tone of voice. It's not a question, you realize, but simply an affirmation.

You grimace, taking note of the wraps around your head. "I am," you say, narrowing your eyes. Her face is dipped in shadow, only her eyes shine with the flames. You want to see her.

"I did not know if you would wake." Comes her voice again. Too neutral, too detached.

You hate it. "Of course, I am," you say, and to hell with it, if she doesn't come to you, you'll come to her. "Of course, I bloody am, Alessa." You start to rise, snarling against your damned headache. Pain flashes from everywhere, but most of all, from the back of your head, and you may look like an idiot, swaying on the ground, but you get your feet under you-

Alessa bolts forward and all your progress is lost when two hands push your shoulders down. Your back hits the ground with a huff, her fingers grabbing onto your shirt. "What are you doing, you fool?" she hisses.

You frown. "What are you doing?" you shoot back, but your voice loses heat when you finally see her. Her face is bathed by the flames, and her eyes are so pretty, the blue clear, the tears around it clear too. Your heart breaks in two. "Alessa..."

Her mouth twists and her nails dig in, but more tears fall from her lovely eyes. "Fool," she says through trembling lips. "Do not move, you are hurt. The ax, it— I could not—"

She chokes, and you've never seen her like this. "I did not know if you would wake," she whispers a broken whisper. "I did not—"

You reach up and pull her towards you. Alessa comes willingly, her head falling on your chest, nose buried in your collarbone, tears wetting your neck. Your heart aches, but you hug her to you, crushing her with all the strength you can muster. "I'm here," you whisper by her hair, kissing the top of her head. "I'm here."

She clings to you, pressing her face closer. You feel the butterfly touch of her lips on your skin, moving with her shaky breaths. She doesn't speak, perhaps because she can't, so you simply hold her and let her cry. Very few have ever seen her like this, you know, very few have the privilege. You watch an iceberg melting, and you hate that you're the reason why.

But part of you couldn't be more grateful.

Slowly, gradually, you feel her calming in your arms as her body softens. You caress her back, sinking your fingers into her hair, kissing what skin you can find. "Whatever you're cooking," you speak then. "Smells amazing."

Alessa raises her head, and you smile when she finally looks at you. There are no more tears, but her eyes are swollen. And the way they narrow has your smile widening. "Really, it does!" You laugh. "I could eat the whole pot."

Alessa's lips twitch. "And leave none for me?"

You brush a strand of hair away from her face, the back of your knuckles grazing her cheek. "You can have a bit, I suppose," you say in a tender voice, tracing the freckles on her nose.

"How generous of you," she murmurs back, but she has stopped fighting back her smile, and how beautiful it looks on her lips. Alessa nuzzles into your palm before moving to turn away, but you hold her wrist and keep her in place.

"Hey, Alessa," you say, your other hand cupping her nape to bring her closer. Alessa's nose bumps into yours, her eyelashes making up all of your vision. "Thank you," you say before you press your lips to hers in a soft kiss.

She hesitates for a moment, but then her hands grab each side of your jaw, and the kiss deepens. Alessa's tongue finds yours, desperate, passionate, and your head spins again, but it doesn't plummet towards hell but seeks the sky instead. "Do not repeat it," she pants when you part.

You smile. "I don't plan to."

Alessa kisses you for the last time, quick but lingering before she rises to her feet. "You shall have a bowl," she declares, eyes shining down at you. "Perhaps if you behave, you can have another."

You laugh as she spins on her heels and watch her grab two bowls and a waterskin. Your whole body aches and your head feels as if it could split at any moment, but Alessa is soon back at your side, her tights a perfect pillow, her voice a perfect melody.

And if life is made of pain and pleasure, you'll endure the worst of the first, so you can bask in the best of the other.