Voices
“I want… to live…”
“I can’t… die…”
“I don’t want… to die… There’s so much more… I have left to… do…”
There were so many voices, unhindered by the barriers of language, whispering in his mind. He didn’t know what to do. Many times, Le Comte had envied humans for their shorter lives, for that ability to fade into nothing, to cease the never ending walk of life that he had already traveled. But… now he wasn’t certain. These humans were terrified. They didn’t want to go. They didn’t see death as a welcome release. Of course, that didn’t mean no humans did. But those voices wouldn’t reach him now; they wouldn’t be looking for salvation. No, if there were people who died in contentment, or complete despair, they would not be crying out. Either they were willing to go, or they had decided there was nothing left to fight for.
The voices came from those in the middle, those who rejected the idea of death, those who felt there was something more that needed to be done. They filled Le Comte’s mind until it was the only thing he could hear, or feel. Pressing in, from all sides, even though they didn’t physically exist. He sank to his knees, putting his hands up on the side of his head. Was this… some sort of punishment? For taking his life for granted? Were these voices seeking him to attack him? He had suffered a great deal of physical pain at times, but he always survived. It was nearly impossible not to. Mental anguish, however, was not something that a Pureblood was immune to. So, it was a perfect attack.
But, despite the pressure building inside his mind, Le Comte quickly abandoned that notion. None of the voices gave any indication that they were aware of him. There were many cries to gods of varying flavors, or last words murmured to loved ones, words he felt he had no right to hear, but could only respect in silence. He wanted to leave now, a mad impulse to abandon his ideals, to destroy the door. He had no place here, intruding on these lives. What had he done?
And yet, he couldn’t move, pinned to the spot with all these plaintive cries, intruding on his thoughts. His mansion, it was big, but empty. This corridor, it was small, but way too full. Perhaps, even if he couldn’t save everyone, he could perhaps even things out a little. He would have to make himself move though, for that to happen. It was harder than he could have imagined; his body simply refused to obey his commands. Could he… actually die here? In this place that belonged everywhere, yet nowhere at all. Though the thought was terrifying, it was also oddly exciting. Could he, give up, right now?
“Take my hand.”
It was a new voice, and somehow it seemed louder than the others. No, not louder. Closer. Le Comte’s eyes flew open. The corridor didn’t seem to have changed at first glance. It still stretched on forever. Yet, at the end, he saw a light. Focusing on it for a few moments, he realized it wasn’t merely a light, but a shape. Humanoid. A lifeline, perhaps? Or was it some new torment to discover? He couldn’t even be sure if it was connected to that last command, or request: take my hand. Looking around, he didn’t see any other plausible source, and so he moved towards the light.
The closer he drew, the more the shape took a distinguishable form. Though, by the time he reached it, he realized some of the details were off. From what he could tell, it was the shape of a young woman, mid-to-late teens. He couldn’t even tell if she was pretty or not, since as soon as he seemed to form a picture in his mind of what he was seeing, her features would shift and slide into something slightly different, as though she rejected classification entirely. Even her clothes seemed to shift and change, defying any means of identify where, or when, she might have been from. He was left with the vague impression she was always wearing a dress of sorts, however. And, as strange as this encounter was, it didn’t fill him with any sense of dread or revulsion, but just a confused curiosity. Her hands, however, in contrast, were fixed in shape as well as posture; one was resting by her side, while the other was extended towards him.
He took it.
The voices faded away.
“That’s better, isn’t it? I can tell by your face.”
Again, he heard the voice in his mind more than through his ears, but without the cacophony of thousands upon thousands filtering into his mind, it was bearable. Even, pleasant, in a way. He nodded his head.
“Yes, thank you. How did you do it?”
“Me? I did nothing but give you a single voice to focus on,” she said quietly in his mind, her voice calm and even, though he couldn’t have guessed whether she had a soft voice, or a loud one. A high voice, or a husky one. A sweet voice, or a rough one.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?”
“I’m just another one of the dead. One of the lost. You… you built the door connecting to this place?” Le Comte nodded his head, unsure of whether it was a good thing to have done or not, but not willing to lie about it. “Then, I must warn you. Not everything is as it seems.”
“What do you mean?”
“You heard the voices. So many voices. But, that’s not even a fraction of the people who have died. Barely a drop. Most people move on. Their voices silenced as they are forgotten. Some of us… are not so lucky. Beware. Not all people who achieve greatness are good. And even the ones who are both good and great, they did not reach their greatness without a price. Sometimes, the price is steep.” The figure raised her free hand to her neck. Peering closer, Le Comte saw a circular scar wrapping around the entire thing, as far as he could see. He shuddered.
“Are you…?
The question was cut short as the young woman put her finger against his lips. He didn’t feel it the way he would the finger of a living being, but, it silenced him nonetheless. In fact, it was the cold sensation without pressure that made him not wish to speak further. Finally the finger was withdrawn, and the cold went with it.
“Speak not my name; I didn’t come here to look for the aid that you wish to offer. I am… not ready for the world yet. Not even after two and a half centuries. But, there are others waiting. Please keep in mind what I’ve said. Sometimes the help offered, is not the help we need.”
The figure grew dimmer by the second, until she disappeared into the darkness. Once again the voices started to nudge their way into Le Comte’s mind, but this time he was feeling more tranquil. Slowly he let them wash over him, as though they were waves on a beach. Straightening up, he left the corridor, back into the solid sanity of his mansion. Perhaps this would take more planning than he realized, and he would be alone for a little while longer, but, once that was done, he would be well and truly ready to… begin.
