Beat

Radioactive // Lindsey Stirling and Pentatonix

Sleep and I found each other now that I've been provided with the new blanket of flour sacks. As it happened before, I awake to a plate of bread and cheese awaiting me. I take time inspecting this new loaf, looking for clues. It's warmer than the loaf from before, likely straight from the oven this time. I'm not surprised. I have a feeling the old woman is the cook responsible for feeding me. I wonder if it is by order of her Master, or in defiance of him. But as she provided the warm blanket, I know she made certain I'd have warm bread.

As I break the bread, warm steam wafts into the room. I'm struck with a homesickness so strong my eyes sting with the threat of tears. I will them away as I nibble on the food, the bread still as tasteless as the last. How could it be so? Everything about this loaf indicates its flavor should be a comfort. Its texture and warmth, the springy quality of its center all point to a delectable bite. But not this loaf. Even pairing it with the hard cheese doesn't improve the flavor.

Once I've finished with my disappointing meal, I stand and pace the cell. With not much room to do so, I end up spinning in circles in order to move at all. Passing the time in a space this size could drive a person mad. I am determined to be very intentional about my thoughts and plans to avoid the inevitable madness.

As I contemplate my predicament and what I might do to change it, a loud bolt of lightning cracks overhead. The sound is directly over top of the dwelling and yet lights the hallway from under the seam of the door. As the sound and light fade away, an overpowering sensation pulsates through the room. I have never felt anything so strong. It reverberates through my bones. As if a surge of power passed through the entire dwelling, soundlessly calling everything within to attention.

This is the thing that breaks me. Because now I am afraid.

I stand rooted in place, the feeling still surrounding me. I close my eyes, an attempt to listen for footsteps, a voice, something to explain what I've just experienced. I have no idea what it was, but deep within my soul I know it isn't good. Like an itch under your skin that you can't seem to locate, the feeling in this dwelling is equally as uncomfortable. Every instinct for survival I have begs me to run, to hide far from its source. I wrap my arms around my middle, rubbing, pressing against my skin trying to find some type of physical relief from this sensation, but it has no physical cause.

Futile, this attempt I've made at finding relief.  I wind my hands into my hair, pulling slightly, massaging my skin in desperation. What is this? What has happened? I focus on my breathing, not knowing what else I can possibly do. I work to keep panic at bay–panic which will not help me in any way–and it takes every ounce of focus I have to hold it back.

The wave of power rolling through the air continues.

The sound of footsteps comes near and my breathing picks up pace. I listen, worried that someone or something less accommodating than the old woman and Grimhold might be heading this way. When I hear the keys jingle and the slow pace of the footsteps, I know it is the woman who approaches my cell. I step back and sit on the edge of the cot, gripping it with white knuckles.

The woman enters the room just as she had last time, however long ago that was. I'm surprised to see she doesn't seem alarmed by whatever is happening. As if pulses of power moving through the dwelling is nothing out of the ordinary. And it  becomes clear to me it must not be out of the ordinary for her.

"What is that?" I whisper as she closes the door.

"Hmmm?" The woman doesn't even glance up at me as she steps into the room and reaches down to grab my half eaten bread. "Are you speaking of the bread?"

"No," I continue to whisper even though she uses her normal voice. "I mean that. Whatever that strange feeling is?" My voice sounds as desperate as I feel. Panic is on its way. No. It's already here. I am in the throes of it.

Her eyes rise to find mine wide and gaping, pleading for relief. "Ah, yes. You'll get used to it. The Master has just returned from his hunt." She dismisses the entire thing with a wave of her hand.

"The Master? Hasn't he been here this whole time?" Grimhold had rushed me through the Master's chamber so I wouldn't be seen. He set me in this cell because...

"Oh no. He's been gone these last nights. Some time now, I can't say how many moons. He is rarely here for long before the thrill of the hunt calls to him again. Do not fret, dear. He will be on his way before another moon makes its pass." With a pat of my hand, the woman turns to leave.

"Wait!" I grab onto her hand, not allowing her to leave me just yet. Her eyes meet mine once again. "Does he know I am here? That Grimhold found me in his realm?"

Her eyes grow cold, dark. "The Master knows all, my dear." There is pain in her voice as she speaks, her hands trembling slightly.

Then she steps out of the room and turns the lock once more.

Thank you so much for reading! See you tomorrow...