CHAPTER 100
To say that there was a beginning would imply there was a beginning, a starting point from which everything else was defined. But Olivia drifted in the ambiguous nothingness of semi-awake slumber, viscerally conscious of her body in her bed and yet distanced from it. Perhaps she had been dreaming, perhaps she was on the cusp of waking up, but for her, at this moment, she simply existed in an empty non-space of slumber, vaguely aware of her heartbeat, the slow tidal breathing, the hum of nothingness as she slept.
Perhaps something had happened to draw her partway out of her sleep; nothing so significant as to pull her all the way awake, but not enough to allow her to sink back into the void of nothingness and whatever dreams lay beyond. There was no urge to visit the facilities; no nighttime necessary. Her stomach was silent, her breathing slow and even. There was a strange feeling, however, stranger still for the lack of feeling.
That was what drew her towards waking. She could feel one of her arms draped across her chest, but at the same time, she couldn’t feel it at all. The weight was there, the warmth was there, but she could not feel the arm itself. What was it? Had her arm fallen asleep? There was none of the numb tingling sensation that accompanied such things. The inexorable feeling of waking up was drawing closer. She didn’t want to. She wanted to sleep the night through. The waking world held no appeal to her. The whole world was empty and gray and lifeless, all the joy had been sucked out of living. What even was the point in going on, anymore?
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Something was amiss. Something so subtle, something so distant and minute that it couldn’t be discerned, and yet it slowly dragged her awake. As awareness grew closer, as she drew closer to waking, whatever it was clamored for her attention.
As she moved her fingers, it came to her. Her arm wasn’t draped across her chest. The slow, smooth breath of sleep in her ear didn’t belong to her.
Her eyes sprang open. With the bedcurtains drawn, the bed was completely dark. With awareness fully engaged, she was aware that someone was in the bed with her.
The bedposts had light crystals installed that could be activated with a touch. She reached up and back, fumbling, and suddenly pale light sprung from above her head.
Katarina mumbled something incomprehensible, buried her face in Olivia’s hair, and her arm, draped across Olivia’s chest, tightened for just a moment.
The Witch Hunter had disappeared into the brazier of Glory fully two weeks ago. There was no possible way for her to survive, and yet, there she was, sleeping next to Olivia as if nothing at all had happened.
She drew a deep and panicked breath and shrieked-