No matter the time of day, the small church remained swathed in shadows, dwarfed by the large buildings crowding on either side. It was old, its stone construction hinting at an age when the Holy City was nothing more than a collection of dirt roads, a general store, and a blacksmith shop. Times had changed. No one remembered the ancient building, and who could blame them? There were hundreds of modern cathedrals where one could worship the Triumvirate in the comfort of air-conditioning and padded seats.
Despite its appearance, however, the church hadn't remained completely untouched by modern conventions. If one were to walk up the aisle, past the rows of hard benches, past the altar, and tip one of the tarnished candelabras backward, the podium would slide aside, revealing a set of lit steps that led down into something resembling a hospital. Deep within the brightly-lit, clinical hallways was a thick, steel door, locked from the outside.
Behind the door, Ruach dreamed of snow.
She watched through a window as two young children, a boy and a girl, played in snow that rose nearly to their knees. A blond-haired woman was helping them build a snowman, and a soft smile curled Ruach's lips as she watched their efforts. They'd made the middle too big, and as they struggled to lift it atop the bottom snowball, the pink-haired girl lost her balance and fell backward. Ruach straightened, alert with concern, but instead of crying, the girl flopped back and began creating a snow angel. With a shriek of delight, the boy joined her. The blond woman laughed, then looked toward Ruach. Her green eyes danced with joy, and she held out a hand, motioning for Ruach to join them. The window turned into a door, but as Ruach moved to open it, a dark shadow fell upon her, blocking both light and air. Her joy turned to panic as her lungs fought for air...Ruach bolted upright, gasping as she fought her way out of the sheets that had somehow tangled about her arms and chest. The faces she'd seen in her dream had already begun to vanish as she swung her legs out of bed and stood. Ignoring the wet chill of the floor, and the crunch each of her footsteps made, she crossed the room and turned on the light. The room was spartan, windowless and bare of any furniture besides a small sink, a toilet, and the small cot she'd slept on. Everything was covered in an inch of snow, save for the cot, and in the harsh fluorescent light, she climbed back up and wrapped herself in her only blanket.
It wasn't particularly cold in the room, and even as she watched, the snow began to melt, running into a drain in the middle of her floor. She hugged the blanket tighter about her shoulders however, needing the comfort it provided. She had no idea how long she'd been here; at one time, she'd tried to keep track by making marks on the wall, but the drugs had ruined that plan. There was no telling how many days she'd missed, or if she'd marked multiple times in a day. There were a few words written in large, unsteady letters above the sink, but they were impossible to decipher.
Who were the people in her dream? She closed her eyes, trying to hold onto images that slid further away from her. She thought knew them, or had known them at one time, but all she felt was emptiness, a detachment that denied familiarity. Maybe it had been a movie she'd seen, or a painting. Maybe she was imagining the way the girl's hair would feel beneath her fingers. Hallucinations weren't uncommon, a side-effect of the drugs. But they hadn't given her any injections last night, had they?
The loneliness and uncertainty drove her out of herself, sent her mind in search of others. She briefly touched on the consciousnesses of the attendants, the scientists, the guards who populated the facility; she knew she'd find no solace there. As her brow wrinkled in concentration, her mind stretched beyond the bounds of the facility, wavering timidly into the 'outside'. On a good day, she could feel the minds of passersby. While she couldn't read their thoughts, she could sometimes sense their emotions: playfulness, joy, irritation, anger, love... She'd make up stories for them, who they were, where they were headed, why they were happy or upset. It kept the monotony from driving her truly insane.
Reaching toward the first person she encountered, she received a shock. Familiarity rushed through her in a way she couldn't describe, and for a moment, a face flashed before her eyes. A word formed on her lips. A name? But it was gone before it was fully shaped. The presence was moving away, and even though it was futile, she scrambled out of her bed to press her body to the door. In a panic, she stretched out in a way she'd never done before, touching that familiar presence and communicating with it.
Cyar'ika, gaa'tayl! she cried, reaching out for a protector that only her heart remembered.
Cyar'ika, gaa'tayl! = Darling, help!