Salvation of the Fallen - Chapter 2
“Hah. Good.”
The man smiled languidly and exhaled a deep breath. The hot breath he exhaled grazed Arsena’s nose and landed coolly on the defenseless nape of her neck. Thick teardrops helplessly traced down her chin.
‘Why on earth… How did…’
How she ended up in this situation, she couldn’t fathom, no matter how she sifted through her memories. No. She didn’t even know who she was, how she had lived, or how she had ended up here. Even her mind engulfed in terror, had no recollection. A sense of despair, sinking into an abyss, overwhelmed Arsena.
‘I must remember.’
Arsena lifted her vision, shrouded in darkness as if wiping away the constantly flowing tears.
I must remember who I am. What happened. I have to remember. Please. Please. Anything.
‘Please. Please.’
I need to remember. My past. To survive. I must. Those were the only thoughts that filled her head.
“Hu, uugh.”
Yet, Arsena remained locked in the darkness. Despite repeatedly chewing her lips and urging herself, nothing came to mind, as if someone had stirred up her memories.
‘Remember, Arsena.’
A cold voice, unimaginable as her own, penetrated her mind, clutching Arsena’s breath. Simultaneously, a pounding headache struck her like a relentless hammer. The violently throbbing heart pulsated into her mind, as if about to pierce through her tiny skull.
“Ah, huugh.”
Unable to overcome the pain, Arsena, with a feeble whimper escaping her lips, lost consciousness after the final breath. In the tallest spire, in the deepest darkness untouched by any light of this world, the slender neck of Arsena, as small and delicate as it sank lifelessly. In the chilling silence, the iron chains that bound her, resembling nothing more than slabs of meat, seemed to chuckle in delight with a rhythmic, eerie sound, as if celebrating.
***
If Arsena’s life were to be defined in one word, it would be “misery.” Her brief existence was an embodiment of misfortune.
Beneath the sheared cliffs, in a small village where the sun never rose.
Among them, the most humble and dark cabin stood out. In that place where everything was scattered on the floor, Arsena grew up. Walking on the dust-covered floor, holding onto a table where rats had nibbled at the legs, she was persistent.
Born without a cry, she had no father. While it wasn’t something a child could handle alone, Arsena’s mother was the only thing she had ever seen.
Her mother’s thick, black hair, like black silk, always glistened as if soaked in water after being coated with cheap hair oil. In young Arsena’s eyes, that sparkling hair seemed as soft as silk, enough to want to grab a handful. However, she never reached out to it. Such actions were not allowed for Arsena.
In the hazy air filled with faint dust, her mother stood in front of the mirror dozens of times a day. She sprayed perfume so strong it stung her nose. Without stopping her hands, she hummed a tune while her clothes, soaked in the pungent smell due to unwashed laundry, became thoroughly wet. When that harsh melody abruptly ceased, young Arsena would huddle her small body. What would happen next was evident.
“You!”
In response to the sharp voice that shot out like an arrow, Arsena quickly raised her small hand to cover her head. Depending on her luck, anything from a hairbrush to a leftover soup in a wooden bowl was thrown at her.
“It’s all because of you! My once glorious life is ruined because of you. Everything is because of you. You’d be better off dead.”
“I’m sorry.”
After pouring out a burst of frustration, Arsena cowered before her enraged mother, just begging for forgiveness. The fault lay with her; her very existence was a source of displeasure for her mother.
However, that didn’t mean her mother always hated Arsena. She would occasionally cup Arsena’s cheek and gently meet her eyes. On such days, her mother was usually drunk.
“I really love your eyes.”
Looking at Arsena’s blue eyes, distinctly different from her own brown ones, her mother laughed with loosened pupils. Though fearful that her pointed nails, grazing the eye sockets, might gouge out her eyeballs, Arsena obediently tilted her face. She had no other choice.
When dawn broke and her drunken mother fell asleep, Arsena left the little cottage and fled into the Black Forest. The next day, when she was too drunk to look at Arsena, her mother was especially sensitive. It was better to stay out of sight and hide her presence. For Arsena and her mother.
The Black Forest, a land forsaken by the gods. What it was officially called didn’t matter. The crucial point was that no one bothered to explore it. Arsena navigated through the perpetually dark forest, heading towards its deepest recesses. Climbing up the gnarled old trees, she earnestly hoped that the dense foliage would conceal her. Her gaze, crouched in the only refuge, always looked far away toward the distant cliff.
A dizzying cliff that cast long, dark shadows over the village. There were always people up there, sometimes facing the crimson dawn, sometimes bathed in sunlight cascading vertically. They worked diligently until the dusk swallowed the glowing horizon.
People said they would build a temple. To honor God’s glory even before Arsena was born. In this empty wasteland, people gathered to form a village at the foot of the cliff and worked on top of the cliff.
They cut thick trees, carried loads up the cliff, and excavated the ground under the scorching sun for the glory of the merciful gods.
Working like ants, the people returned to their burrows when the sun set, thinking that the village they worked so hard for would be theirs. All the while, they harbored the illusion that the sun atop the cliff belonged to them.
In the thick of the night, when darkness had engulfed them, Arsena descended from the old trees and headed towards the village. That was when her mother was never home.
“Hey!”
A sharp voice called Arsena, struggling through the crowd. As her hesitant steps accompanied a sigh, her small hand trembled involuntarily.
“You better get to the pub. Your mother’s….”
It was a familiar situation. Predictable. The villagers had only one reason to seek her out. Arsena bowed her head in acknowledgment to the woman who delivered the news of her latest trial.
“Wait! Hey!”
Turning back at the voice calling her again, she was met with sympathetic eyes scanning her from head to toe. Tsk, the woman making the offer extended a piece of dried bread that had seen better days.
“Have this at least.”
Though the name might be unknown, the gesture carried the weight of understanding her plight. Arsena wiped her hands on the worn hem of her skirt and cautiously accepted the offered sympathy.
“I can’t believe she is starving her child when she can afford to drink. What is with your mother? Ugh. Oh well, living like this…”
“Thank you.”
Tsk, at the woman who clicked her tongue, Arsena bowed her head again and walked away. Towards the pub, where her drunken mother would be. Towards her fate.
***
“If I’m paying you, why don’t you sell me a drink!”
The bar was a chaotic scene. Her mother, already unable to support herself, was now seated on the floor, sipping from a bottle.
“I’ll give it to you!! I heard a lot of people died. How many times do I have to tell you! Can’t you see that smoke?”
People died easily, especially on the edge of the cliff. Even a small misstep could cost a life. Thus, the smoke rising from the village chimneys, burning flesh and bones, always hung heavily in the air. The humid atmosphere of death, foreign as it may sound, was nothing unusual deep within the village.
