Chapter Text
It was when the clock struck midnight that I finally realised I was at death's doors. Half a leg into a grave l had dug up myself when I still played with dirt in the gardens as a child. That little hole in the ground, under a lovely cherry tree my mother had planted, was going to hold my ashes as promised.
Another spike of pain erupted from my chest and I gasped against the oxygen mask, momentarily hearing the machine let out a piercing shriek. A muffled cry was let out from afar, somewhere distant, somewhere I couldn’t turn to without risking my life.
“...losing… pulse! Start CPR!”
Blurry silhouettes invaded my line of sight, masked angels with their white feathered wings fluttering urgently in the air. Hands pressed down on my chest, once, twice, thrice. Till it felt as if my ribs had broken with that unyielding determination.
It’s not going to help . The hopeless thought shattered the cold artificial lights above me. Blinding they were but still better than whatever awaited me after death. I tried to suck in a breath – salvage my dying state if I even could – but it only choked at my throat. Strangling me and dragging me down like a rope had coiled around my neck.
Forever, I will remember that feeling, I think as I drowned. Drifting further and further away from the shore. Sinking down into a land unknown to mankind.
I hope I do.
My eyelids drooped, the silence was deafening.
I never want to experience it again.
~*~
All of it I see and all of it I fear.
Somehow it felt worse than the utter darkness I had gone through just seconds ago.
The cold floors bit at my bare feet, sending a chilling sensation that made my legs weak with fright. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t find the will to move when my body was no longer mine. When my limbs move without me wanting to and I peered through the eyes of another as an outsider.
You came.
A tired voice said. A rumble deep within my chest. The person, whoever he was, settled on something soft. And the uneasy chilliness was replaced with warmth.
Dread seeped through my entire self but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. My mind was blurring, like a darkening shadow had fallen over it, determined to muffle my touch with reality. I felt myself nodding off, struggling to keep my eyes open for just a little longer.
The person’s eyes were fixed on the extravagant carpet beneath his feet. But I managed to catch glimpses of his scarred hands, blackened with something like soot.
Finish what has been started. Let nothing break you.
He rasped in the end. As if acceptance. But I knew it was not what it seemed, for I could taste the bitterness that spreaded over his tongue and the ache that trembled in his heart when he drew in a long shuddering breath. Something fogged up my eyes, a single drop sliding down his cheek, running cold.
It is a chance. Do not waste it. Finish what has been started.
He collapsed instantly afterwards, sinking into a muffled layer of white with closing eyelids. I should have screamed. Panicked even, rattling my voice in his head till he finally got up again.
I didn’t. My voice caught in my throat each time I wanted to say something and shockingly enough, I was disturbingly calm. Content with what was happening and expecting it to end so disastrously. I knew I shouldn’t be so unbothered, so heartless to not even try to help him. There was no reason for me not to. Still, I stared, blinking at the closing darkness like a heartless monster, happy to watch life fade away before capturing the hollow shell it left behind.
His heartbeat was beginning to slow and the rise and fall of his chest lengthened as time passed.
He was dying.
For a moment, I was quiet and the whole world seemed to be holding an anticipating breath with me. Then, I felt it. The heartbeat faltering to a dead stop and the way his entire body went limp and cold. A warmth faded, its gentle touches that soothed my mind suddenly receded like the tides at sea. I was left empty. A battered soul that took over a hollow shell. Not belonging to me. A thief one would call it. But an unwilling thief at most.
I wasn’t given a choice to choose when suffocation – familiar as it is – filled my chest, stuffing it with such a heavy layer of cotton that even my mind struggled to breath. I couldn’t resist anymore, the luring pull into oblivion, the promise to a safe world. My vision darkened and my soul, I could feel moulding into this unfamiliar body. Capturing and trapping me in, uncaring if I was even its owner. I shook it off, clawing my way out, biting and twisting in the wretched chains that tried to hold me down. A soft humming echoed from somewhere, and all of my strength, my determination to escape vanished instantly. I was given a heavy shove, like a pair of strong hands had appeared behind me and finally drove me in.
Perhaps I was imagining it. But I heard a sigh. Relief yet also filled with so many unspoken words I cannot decipher. As if he had many things to say but thought it better not to.
Suddenly, I could breathe. Suddenly, I could feel the texture of the silky sheets I lay on. Suddenly, my sight expanded and I was no longer trapped in the eyes of another.
My heart, alive and beating was the only sound that gave me conformation of this strange dream I was in. It didn’t throb painfully, and neither did my chest constrict, spreading pain to my shoulders and arms like a dreadful disease.
I was alive.
I realised.
Again.
~*~
I pressed my palm to my heart over and over again, almost in disbelief that I had pulled through all that unscathed. The chaotic beeping of machines, the sharp cold needles pricking my skin and the hands pushing hard against my chest till it burnt with pain. Muffled sobs echoed somewhere in the background, whispered conversations beside my ears and the heavy scent of sanitiser, that made me wrinkle my nose in disgust whenever I smelt it. They burned into my memory. Unable to be erased.
Yet now, all of it. Gone. Like with a snap, and a wish made true, I was whisked away and left dangling in the afterworld. Or so I thought.
Though, it became the least of my concerns when I dragged my gaze to the unfamiliar room I was in. Lavish. Was the first thing that popped into my mind. Then, gloomy. Almost dull.
The owner had an interesting taste.
A hearth gave off a dying light at the far end, the only specks of colour that dotted the darkness and gave me some light to see. I pushed myself off the bed, trudging around slowly, like an outsider, invading a place so private.
There was plenty of furniture, placed in an orderly fashion. Most were made of wood, others looked as if from marble or stone. But they had one thing in common, all skilfully carved with flowery patterns and elegant swirls. Some even had jewels adorning it. Upon closer inspection, I found them clean, their surface speckless even in the most unexpected corners.
Each shelf I walked past was labelled in neat handwriting of a language I did not know. I tested the knobs, trying to open a drawer or a cabinet but found them locked. I left them alone after a while. It wasn’t polite to go through his things without permission. No matter who it may be.
After a turn in the room, finding nearly everything locked or empty, I settled on the sofas in front of the hearth. There was only a dim spark left when I came, trying to thrive longer in the burnt out fuel but to no avail. I reached to the wood rack standing near it, tossing a few logs into the hearth to keep the fire going. As the fire grew, flickering merrily and warming the cold room, I waited silently.
I haven’t had a clue of where I was, nor a valid logical explanation that can convince me otherwise. I could have been kidnapped – out of question reasoning, it did not make sense – or I died and something supernatural happened and I came… here. My brows wrinkled, a late worry finally reaching me after so long. If it really was the latter. That would pretty much overturn everything I have learnt all my life. Every theory, every guess and debate of the existence of angels or ghosts. Proven true when I am in the afterworld.
Odd when I did not feel frightened, almost relieved by the fact.
Exhilaration pumped through my veins, a familiar jumpy feeling reappeared in my stomach whenever I thought of something exciting. Waves of inspiration and messy thoughts surged into my mind, urging me to find a place to vent them all out. To create a piece that would leave many stunned with awe. My hands shook, itching for a pencil and drawing paper. I may not be a writer but I can draw to preserve words.
I stood up abruptly, curiosity burning from within. Denying it would be denying me my will to live. Suddenly the dull room seemed interesting, like treasures hid at every shadowed corner I previously ignored. The door leading out stood quietly aside and I rushed to open it. To embrace whatever was behind it. What did I have to fear when I was already dead once. The worst was to die a second time and I already had experience. It didn’t make much of a difference.
Yet, before I could, a voice pinned me to my tracks.
Greetings.
It said, void of all emotions.
A shudder crept up my spine, all the adrenaline drowned out by it with this single word. I swallowed a bile in my throat, the impulses I felt falling back into my stomach.
Sit. There is much to say.
Moving stiffly, I fell back into the sofas, my limbs trapped firmly to the sides. The pressure on me vanished when I obeyed and the voice lightened when it spoke next.
Greetings.
It repeated, as if determined for a reply.
I let out a breath, leaning back in a seemingly relaxed way, feigning calmness. “Greetings. Do I have the pleasure to know who you are?”
I’m afraid I cannot tell.
The voice wobbled, breaking as if interfered by something. It went quiet for a while. Leaving an uncanny silence to stretch in the room.
I wasn’t left with enough time to properly think when it returned. A humming alerted me, somewhere in the back of my head. It didn’t speak.
“Am I dead?” I asked carefully.
A shuffle.
Yes.
The answer encouraged me to ask more. “Where am I?”
Depends.
“Am I in the afterworld?”
This time, it laughed. Sounding like a ringing of bells, more human and less artificial in some sense.
No, no you are not. Wherever did you get this thought?
I frowned, irritation creeping up. “You just told me I am dead. It is rather difficult to assume otherwise.”
I could almost sense its amusement.
You are queer. Anybody who realises themselves dead would likely feel distressed, furious even. You are calm. How very unnatural, like you have always been.
It was more of a mumble rather than a targeted remark. I ignored it entirely, not wanting to know its impression of me. The important thing now was to find out where I am.
“Give me an answer. Where am I and… who is that person who just died.” My thought dived back into the last moments of that man, who seemed to know what was happening. The words he left, I wasn’t sure if it was for me or someone else. But the absurdity of it was truly a matter to be pondered over.
A scoff rang. As if I had asked a ridiculous question.
Beleriand. It announced. The Year of the Trees, where the Noldor fled from Valinor and came to this ill place.
Dramatically spoken like it was telling some noble tale about brave warriors and wise kings. Where good eventually triumphant evil and everyone was given a fulfilling end. It did in fact happen, apart from the fulfilling end. As a story that I had read countless times because of its amazing world building, I could agree wholeheartedly. Even applauded such an interesting place I had travelled to.
Yes, it sounded nice. Sounded great in fact. If I hadn’t known what awaited me perhaps I would be more delighted to accept this fact.
And you!
If the voice was a person standing in front, I was certain a dramatic finger would be pointed at me for the final finale.
Are Melkor. Black foe, Dark lord, Morgoth. The villain in this heroic tale. How very exciting. Any questions?
The words should have sounded exciting but the voice, dragging onto each syllable, made it sound as if a dry lecture.
Nevertheless, the smile on my face froze. Now this. This is. Stunning indeed.
~*~
“I am who?” I was quite sure that my voice went up a pitch.
I refuse to answer denial.
It replied dryly.
I must be mad to hear some pity in it. And mad may I be.
This was utterly ridiculous. I will not entertain it. Ever.
I shot up from where I sat and stormed to the door. It has to be some realistic dream or a mind syndrome I did not know about. I could accept death, for the love of god. But I cannot accept becoming a villain who failed so utterly in the end. Twice! If counting from the first time he did.
If you do not believe me, look out of the window. My words come with proof.
It wasn’t even about believing at this point. But I still retracted the hand hovering above the knob and walked towards the closed windows instead. A dream. Hopefully. Maybe a hallucination before death, there were plenty of cases like it and my mind could have unfortunately made up such a ridiculous scenario.
Yet, when part of a fortress and a volcano, spilling with lava, glared back at me. My heart dropped. In the horizon, vast regions of mountains rose, patches of green peppering the greyish sides while clouds loomed over it as if ready for rainfall. I blinked and suddenly I could see further. Beyond the lands and to the coast, where sand meets the sea, a blaring red rose in the night, burning so high it could reach the heavens. Water should have extinguished it long ago but it continued burning as if in rage. I stared for a while before looking to the sky. Stars still hung there but the moon was nowhere in sight. The timeline became clear. I was at least ten thousand years far back in time, given that I actually time travelled and had not gone into the book, changing worlds completely.
“Did I time travel or did I actually enter a different world.” My mouth felt dry. The question sounded stupid after it left me.
The voice didn’t laugh this time.
Depends.
I closed my eyes. Dread was the only thing I felt, followed by a consuming rage that made me want to break everything I saw. No matter the answer, it did not change the fact of who I had become. Melkor. A cruel Vala, who sought destruction above all else. Who stole away the Silmarils and plummeted the entire world into nearly four ages of suffering and war. He was defeated in the end but at what cost. No, that shouldn’t even be my concern because now that I am him, I am the scapegoat that was going to be held accountable for his crimes. His crimes! After all he has done, I am the one to bear his consequences. I cannot even begin to express the displeasures I have for this.
And I thought dying was the worst thing to ever happen. I missed the fact that ways of dying also determined how comfortable it would be.
I was going to be skinned alive. I was sure of it. A scowl twisted on my face, growing more strangled the longer I glared out at the window.
The beauty of life, is me thinking that nothing could be worse but it spat in my face and said fuck you with a smile.