She should have been asleep; she should have been asleep and lost to the whimsical realm of dreams as most sane individuals were at that time. Those who would awaken at that time would call it โearly morningโ, and those who would just be stepping into bed would call it โlate nightโ. Ceridwen, however, she never knew what to call it herself. There were times where sheโd have long been asleep at this time, but there were others where she would be slipping under the covers of her bed just as the sun peaked above the horizon and hailed the coming of a new day. This time to her was merely just another part of the day, another part of the week, and another part of her newfound life. She was doing what she did from time-to-time, staying up till she could no longer bear to keep her eyes open, all so that she could keep up with her self-appointed duties.
Barely, could she recall anything from more than a year prior, she was told she had what was called โretrograde amnesiaโ after sheโd been recovered from a kidnapping that she did not remember a bit of. It was when she was in the hospital, recovering, that sheโd been collected by her leader, Lior Astraea, and officially inducted into the Guardiansโan organization she knew nothing of, and nothing about, just as she knew nothing of her life from before waking up in that stark room. Sheโd had to have even the fact that she possessed powers explained to her as well, as well as why before anything made even the slightest bit of sense to her back then.
Yet, here she was a year later, living among and with the Guardians under Liorโs command, herself having leapt into it without so much as batting an eyelash. Perhaps it was because she had amnesia, but Ceridwen had quickly appointed herself the unofficial, official caretaker of the group and settled into the self-appointed role with no friction. She was the one who prepared the meals, made sure the kitchen was stocked; she was the one who did the laundry, she made sure everyone else got proper sleep, and made sure everyone was keeping up with proper bathing habits and hygiene. . . . When it was that the Guardians were at their base, she acted this part to everyone, quickly having grown to care for them all like family.
Her self-appointed caretaking task was what kept her up to this point in the night/morning, she was keeping up with the groupโs laundry, making sure it was washed and dried without a complaint, and even a goofy, little smile on her face.
Besides any and all noises sheโd been making, the night had been quiet, and Ceridwen had expected it to remain that way. Of course, things never have a tendency to stay calm.
Ceridwen had been on the third floor of the building when the quake beganโshe had been putting clothing away when the Earth began to quiver and protest below; hastily beginning a terrestrial temper tantrum, a violent one at that. There was no warning beyond a secondโs notice before the Earth began to quake to and fro, knocking little Ceridwen right off her feet and to the floor. A cry came from her lungs as she hit the floor with a none too pleasant sounding thud, the clothing sheโd been handling scattering. She knew sheโd smacked her head when she fell, sheโd felt the surge of pain whip through her skull without mercy as she was forced to remain where she lay for the entirety of the Earthโs tantrum; she didnโt have time yet to tend to or worry about it.
Stiff as a board there on the floor, Ceridwen remained there on her side, her face scrunched up into a most unpleasant expression as she involuntarily braced herself against the fierce tremors that ran through the building. She could feel the structure move with and against the Earthโs shaking, dust and small debris lightly coating her exposed body from the ceiling above. Off in the distance, far outside the bounds of the building, Ceridwen could hear things. Car alarms going off, buildings collapsing upon themselves . . . people shouting and screams, explosions, no doubt from gas lines being unearthed and ripped apart so unexpectedly.
It wasnโt until the vibrations subsided that Ceridwen realized that she had held her breath through the whole of the experience, she deeply gasped in the aftermath of it, as the buildingโs structure caught up to the calm that had returned. For a moment, she remained lying where she was, her eyes having opened wide, her mind resetting itself from the shock of the quake, as it tried to make some semblance of sense of the situation and what had happened. Her breaths came deep and uncertain, while it was Ceridwen could feel her fleeting and crazed heartbeats throughout her body, the sound of blood rushing through her veins overtook her sense of hearing as she heard each flush of blood. Quickly, she sat up, unable to contain a round of coughs that came through her from having inhaled trivial amounts of dust.
It took a moment for her to calm her breathing and body, but as soon as she was settled, she was up and onto her feet, aimlessly walking toward a window. . . . Her small fingers made contact with the sill, as she all but pressed her nose against the still intact glass and looked out into the world with her eyes wide, breathless again. The sight before her was a most unpleasant one, as to be expected. The city . . . our city. Was in shambles. Ceridwenโs hands formed into small fists, the bones in them visible to the naked eye they were clenched so tight. Her brow furrowed, and her mouth became only a thin line on her pallor face. The quake had turned their city into a disaster. People are hurt, and definitely . . . definitely dead. The Guardians had gotten lucky for the moment, their building remained intact and upright it seemed, if any of them were injured, sheโd ensure their wellbeing as she always did and would. Sheโd do what she could and always did for anyone who needed her help. . . .
It was at that moment that Ceridwen felt a trickle of blood run down the side of her face, cutting a silver streak through the white dust on her cheek as it dribbled down her jaw and onto the neckline of her white shirt. Her hand loosened, and her fingers trailed up her face, following the path of the silvery liquid up to a point beyond her hairline. Sheโd hit her head before when sheโd fallen. . . . Remembering this, a dull throb encompassed Ceridwenโs skull as her fingers made contact with the bleeding injury hidden by her hair. She blinked a few times before she retracted her fingers from the wound, looking at the silver blood on her fingertips. The wound throbbed with each and every heartbeat of hers.
It didnโt matter, it hurt but it didnโt matter. Sheโd heal like she always did. Without thinking about it, Ceridwen wiped the still-flowing blood from her face with the sleeve of her shirt; there were more important things to worry about than a small head injury on herself.
Ceridwen was already turned on her heels, and heading out the doorway of the room when she heard Lior call out, โThe box has arrived! Weโre heading out!โ a pang of relief shot through Ceridwen at hearing him, at least he was okay, but that relief was replaced with the utmost dread and seriousness as the reality of Liorโs words hit her. The Box. The Box. The foci and reason behind all that was now wrong with the world, all the disaster, the plague and famine, the deaths of so many . . . it was here? Was that what caused the earthquake to strike their city?
Despite being a Guardian, despite living among them and with them for a year, doing what they were supposed to doโhelp people, protect people and use their powers for the wellbeing of others. . . . This whole time, sheโd more or less been playing follow-the-leader. Sheโd been doing what she was told, following a sense of morality chiseled into her from a place she didnโt know. She didnโt really comprehend the reality or the truth of everything that was happening. Itโd been explained to her time and time again, and while she understood the basics, the weight of it never had set in upon her. . . . Even now, thatโs how she still was. Even with hearing Lior say the box was apparently here, that it had arrived in home territory, the full brunt of it still wasnโt on her. After all, she had no memory from before a year ago, she didnโt remember when the Box had first been opened and all the disasters that had followed in its wake. She didnโt remember how the world was before.
Perhaps that was a weakness in her, the fact that she didnโt remember the world as it was before the Box. She didnโt remember the peace she was supposed to be fighting for, no matter what she was told, what she was shown, she didnโt remember an Earth that wasnโt constantly dilapidated and mostly peaceful. All she knew was the here and now. What she protected and fought for wasnโt a world she didnโt remember. She fought for and protected what she knew and cherished nowโLior and the Guardians whom she considered her family.
Even if the Box really had arrived on their doorstep, it didnโt really change or mean much for Ceridwen. No, instead, it felt like Guardian business as usual to her even if it was perhaps the most urgent and serious issue theyโd faced in the last year or so. She still felt the weight of the words and reality upon her, but maybe not as much as she should have. She was following the leader again.
So it was, she followed behind Lior as she heard the clamor of the other Guardians following suit. Ceridwen was down to the ground floor in a matter of seconds, the first to follow behind Lior as they hit the damaged and devastated city beyond their base. Lior paused only for the briefest of moments to place his goggles over his eyes. Ceridwen had nothing to protect her eyes from the settling dust, smoke and debris, so simply sheโd have to bear with it for the moment. Out in the distance, her ears could pick up the wailing of sirens, car alarms which were still going off, and . . . and people crying out. The city was a disaster area, to say the least. The earth had torn itself apart during its tantrum, cracks and fissures were common to now seen among the cement and pavement. Debris from collapsed buildings was beginning to settle while it was smoke from fires began to rise, obscuring the now rising sun and tainting the sky.
She could only squint against it all, her bare eyes watering. I already know that if the Box is here, weโre not out yet to help anyone. Weโre out here to do a search and reconnaissance for it or any other entities. Ceridwen knew this much. She wanted to help those people injured or trapped by the quake, but she knew that if there were any potential nasties running amok in the wake of this disaster, if the Box really was upon them, they needed to make that their first priority.
A trickle of blood still flowed down the side of her face, but already, Ceridwen could feel the dull throb from the injury receding and lessening. It was healing despite still bleeding. . . . When Lior was on the move again after adjusting his goggles, Ceridwen was following suit. To at least protect her lungs and respiratory tract from the all the pollutants in the air, Ceridwen brought one of her long sleeves up and over her mouth, breathing through the material in order to filter some of the foreign particles from the air. It helped a bit.
While it was she moved, something began to stir within Ceridwen. A strange sort of, sort of sense she didnโt quite understand nor know how to explain. It felt like someone was whispering inaudible words to her, words and phrases that were meant to urge her on, to make her search for something. What that something was, Ceridwen hadnโt the faintest clue. Instead of heeding that urge, she continued to follow after Lior, moving to and fro, over and under debris and rubble, squinting through the murky air. She didnโt think, she only followed, like she always did after him. . . . And, she stopped when it was he did as well. He came to a halt, peering around the area; Ceridwen knew he was searching for something with his goggles.
She moved when he did, and followed him till it was that she saw what he saw as well. A man, lying amongst the rubble and debris, and merely the sight of his vague silhouette through the murky air was enough to send a shiver of uncertainty and angst through Ceridwenโs body. There was something about him that was as dark as it was sad. It marred his aura, an aura Ceridwen could feel as clear as day. It was heavy, weighted and simply so negative. While Lior moved toward him, Ceridwen remained where it was she stood for a moment, where it was her eyes first came upon the silhouette.
I . . . his aura is so heavy that I almost feel like I canโt breathe. Itโs dark and full of so much pessimism? It was true, the weight of the manโs mere aura was enough to make Ceridwen feel like she couldnโt breathe wellโand for as dark as his energy was, it felt oddly familiar to Ceridwen. And without warning, Ceridwen heard one of those inaudible whispers again, suddenly as if it were speaking right into her mind, it became clear and she knew who it was before her and the Guardians.
โThe Man of Darkness. . . .โ the voice spoke, almost sounding like a hiss to her. The Man of Darkness, he who opened the Box and brought disaster upon the world, and he who was supposedly responsible for her own, personal memory loss. Ceridwen had been filled in on the sparse detailsโthat sheโd gone missing for upwards of two months, apparently in the custody of the Man of Darkness for that entire time. However many time she was told this though, she had no memories of the event, of the months apparently sheโd been in his company. And because her memories vanished after she was recovered from him, left to be found with him gone, it was assumed that the Man of Darkness was responsible for her forgetting her entire life prior.
Even with the weight of the Manโs aura upon Ceridwen, making breathing a task, she still stepped forward and stopped just behind Lior, the closer she got to the man though, it became that much more of a chore for her to even fill her lungs with the dusty air. The sheer heavy, negative energy given off by the Man of Darkness weighted upon her in every way. She was always told she was sensitive. . . . Ceridwen took in his overall appearance as she remained quiet. His hair was dark, his skin was as white as paper and he had green markings on his faceโhe was rigid and unmoving at the moment, his eyes shut hard. If it hadnโt been for the faint rising and dropping of his chest, it could well have looked like he was dead. Despite whom he was, Ceridwen couldnโt help the thought of,
I wonder if heโs injured, or hurt. . . . from bubbling up in her head. Considering whom the Man of Darkness was, she knew that was the last thing she ought to be thinking, but even still, she was unable to ignore her own nature, even if she knew well enough not to say such things out loud.
โWeโre going to take him.โ Lior spoke, and this broke Ceridwen of her stillness and near-trance. She blinked a few times, still struggling to breathe a bit, and looked down at him, curiously. They were going to take him, the Man of Darkness, into their custody? Ceridwenโs head tilted to the side, and her brow furrowed a bitโshe could feel the crust of dried blood thatโd matted to her forehead and bangs begin to tear in doing so. What exactly were they going to do with him? How were they going to keep him, where were they going to keep him? Even if Ceridwen didnโt really grasp the full reality of everything that had to do with the Guardians, even she couldnโt help the plethora of questions.
โAnd . . . what are we going to do with him, Lior? I mean, like, if he wakes upโcouldnโt he hurt one of us or something? Or, are we supposed to . . . keep him knocked out?โ she asked with genuine curiosity in her voice. Really, WHAT were they supposed to do with him. If they werenโt supposed to outright . . . kill him. What were they to do with the Man of Darkness if they took him into their custody. Ceridwen stared at Lior for an answer.