Twilight

[Metamancy 1767]

Spoiler

Here's a fun little narrative post I did for my character, Myraela Kalgan, about all her struggles! It's meant to be very vague and acted as a way for me to analyze my own character a little bit. Enjoy!

She woke at Twilight in a cold sweat with ragged, heavy breaths. She jolted up in bed and looked around with sleepy eyes at the darkness surrounding her. She was in a small, cozy room, a blue curtain covering her view. The door was snugly shut. 

Myraela rarely remembered her dreams. It was in this liminal space, when she woke in the middle of the night, that she could recall them, if only briefly with few details.

I’m safe. It was just a dream.

She held her head in her hands and lay back down in bed. The voices still echoed in the back of her mind, but she pushed them away. She was still in her day clothes, and the discomfort was beginning to settle in. 

Melisa could have died, Myraela, spoke a voice. 

Then maybe that would have been for the best! She screamed in her mind. No. No, Myraela, you can’t think that way. 

It was her fault; and of course it was. It always was. Her best friend, her only friend. Binah.

If that is what you truly think, then you did niet truly know him. Binah was a nickname I gave him, to hide his identity as the Twilight Knight.

Shut up! His name is Binah!

Aeris’ words had crushed her. His name was Binah, wasn’t it? It had always made her so angry whenever anyone had called him by his fake name - Argalia Faylover.

But only you knew your real name, Myraela thought, hoping Binah could hear him in the Seven Skies. 

But he couldn’t hear her. Because of her, he could never rest in the Seven Skies.

She turned in bed and drifted off to a toiled sleep.

No. Not this dream again. 

Myraela Kalgan looked down at her hands. Her nails were long, clawed.

She raised a trembling hand to her face. She felt her fangs. 

She was in a jail cell. A dungeon - the Celia’nor dungeon. She gasped at the blood on the ground; and as though a natural instinct, lunged forward. 

Blood, she needed blood. 

The chains at her hands clanked. She fell to her knees, but her feet were chained, too. She reached for the blood with her neck, desperately straining - but it was hopeless.

Sakis Mareno opened the prison door and walked up to her.

“Look at you.” 

“Master Sakis!”

“Look at you. A vampyr.” His blade alighted with a white flame.

“Please,” Myraela begged, realizing what was about to happen, as she did every single time. “Please don’t do this.” 

“You have failed me.” And without another word, the burning blade was driven into her heart. 

And she saw herself; she saw herself, but she was not herself. She had black hair, sleepy eyes - she was Emilia. 

“No,” The understanding came to her. “No.”

But before she could stop him, the dream faded to black. 

“Good morning, miss Llora!”

“Good morning.” 

“How did you sleep?”

Llora had given her stew the previous night, and a muffin, and put her to sleep. 

Myraela considered her answer.

“Good,” said she. “I didn’t even wake up in the middle of the night.”

 

“You will always be welcome here,” assured Llora in a silvery voice as Myraela turned to leave the bakery. “If you ever need somewhere to rest or a tasty treat, you know where to find me.” 

But no. I will never be welcome here. I will never be welcome anywhere.

“Thanks, Miss Llora,” said Myraela.