Runner
Not Quite Here, Not Quite There, But Nowhere You Know
Darkness. That was all that Runner could see. Was she Runner? Who was even that? Runner was an individual, at one point in time. She was once someone. Was it someone that this person knew? Was she Runner?
That question repeated in this being's mind. A loop of question followed by a hesitant answer. An inquiry followed by confirmation. Runner was the person this being had the most knowledge of, thus it must be her. That line of reasoning made sense. It was reasonable. Correct. It was reasonable.
The being now confirmed as the one named Runner took stock of its situation. Her situation. She felt strange. Small. Floating. Was she swimming? No, she was floating. Floating on what? It felt like the sea. Small waves rocked her, shifting beneath her form. Up and down. Motions so familiar to her. She once lived by the sea. It was pleasant, was it not?
Up and down.
But this was no sea. Not one that Runner recognized, at least. It was dark. Everything was dark. There was no smell of salt nor the smell of fish. It was just a sea of darkness, plainly unremarkable. Boring.
No, not boring. Runner thought. It is pure. It is simple in every way. There were no distractions other than the waves that shifted her about. It was pure and simple. Up and down. It was… calming.
Why was she so calm?
Was there a need to be so calm?
Why was she here?
What had happened?
Runner thought to herself all of these questions and more. She did not know why she was here or where 'here' was. This was all new to her. She felt fear rise and fall inside of her. A tug of war between the calming motions of the waves and the unknown of the darkness. Up and down.
She could just barely make it out, far above her. Resting on top of this sea as she was, she could only really look up reliably. There was a light. A star? No… something in her told her it was anything but. A light. Yes, it was a light. Not flickering like flame, it was steady and equally bright. And it was slowly growing larger. Larger. Larger. And larger still.
Over the horizon of waves, she heard someone approaching. Steps on top of the sea, slow and deliberate. She heard their steps? No. There was no sound to them… it was more akin to feeling them. A ripple through the sea with each step. They grew stronger the closer they came towards Runner. They were as calm as the ups and downs of this place, but different.
This was different.
Each of those ripples carried with them a feeling of peace. Of finality. Of new beginnings. It was different from the calm. The calm was relaxing while this was resolving.
The light was still growing larger.
The ripples grew closer. Close enough for Runner to see who… or what… was making them. As it turned out, it was a who. A large figure, in a gray cloak that dragged along behind them, stepped into view. The figure was vaguely feminine, as far as Runner could tell. A calm smile upon smooth lips and skin as gray as her cloak was all that Runner could make out of this mysterious woman's face. In one arm, the woman held a basket. It was wicker, made of a collection of branches woven together in a display of artistry. It was a pretty basket. It too was gray.
The closer that this figure got to Runner, the larger she appeared. Each step sent out ripples that magnified that feeling of renewal. Each step caused this figure to tower over Runner in both presence and size. As the figure took a final step closer, Runner was left thinking of how she must be akin to a pebble in the road for this figure. If so… then why did the figure stop?
The other arm of this woman reached down to Runner, her hand revealed from the cloak to be as gray as her face was. Her fingers were dark, however. Blackened in uneven patterns, almost as if they were covered in the soot and ash of a still-burning fire. Runner felt nervous at this. She wondered why?
Ah, but the nerves faded away as quickly as they came. She was lifted from the sea of calmness, no longer going up and down but just up. The woman's hand was as large as a cart, but it cradled her in such a way that Runner had not been cradled in a long while. The soot, as it held the smoky smell of a flame, was soft. It did not cling to Runner, instead, it was content to remain attached to this woman.
These ashes of fire did not smell like the sulphuric scent of… of what? Something. Runner did not know what, but something was different here as well. This hand felt like… like a warm place. A warm place near a soft fire. It was as if Runner was sitting in her mother's arms next to a warm flame hearth on a cozy snowy night. Strange, Runner never met her mother. But if she did, she hoped it felt like this. This felt nice. It felt like home. From a time when home was calm. From a time when home was simple. From a time when home was… home.
The single hand that cradled her brought her upwards, towards this woman's face. It was there she saw nothing more than she had seen down in the sea. Just the bottom half of this figure's face, the rest hidden behind that gray cloak that covered the figure fully. She at least saw into the giant basket, handing from the crook of the figure's other arm.
A basket filled with… small orbs. Some flickered like fire, others looked polished like gems. A few held the same darkness that surrounded them, others looked to be made of light. It was strange to see. Many looked to simply be like marbles, smooth glass orbs that reflected the light of others.
The figure stopped inspecting her, instead turning her face towards the growing light. It had reached a size in which the woman could likely reach out and touch it. It was hovering in the air, this bright white light, just hanging in this space above Runner. The woman listened for a moment. She was listening, the way her head tilted ever so slightly, and the way her lips pursed. Then she nodded, the smile returning.
Oh, little soul. Someone out there loves you. Someone out there needs you. Someone out there wishes for you to return. Do you wish it to be so?
The voice of this woman reached Runner. It was soft. Sweet. Warm. It felt like a pastry baking next to that fire. A warm soup bubbling over it licking flames. A kettle of tea boiling in the coals. It was subtle, despite this figure's size and Runner's proximity. A whisper, almost as to not startle Runner.
Out there? Where was out there? Someone loves her? A myriad of emotions rushed through Runner. Feelings she had rather wanted to push down, to forget. Frustration. Anxiety. Fear. Horror. Pain. Resignation. Purpose. Out of all of those emotions, the one that shook her the most was the feeling of purpose. She had needed to do something… right? She needed to do it. Something told her that she did.
Runner nodded.
The woman hummed in acknowledgment. It seemed she was both disappointed and approving. Or perhaps she was just completely neutral to Runner's decision. It was hard to tell with this entity.
Very well. To them, I shall return you, upon the call of another. Know this, little soul, when the reaper cleaves you from the world you return to, I shall be here to guide you home. Rest, now, little soul. Awaken with your first breath, whole again.
With that, Runner felt exhaustion take its toll on her. She was tired. So so tired. Everything felt like lead, heavy and dull. She felt the hand rise above the figure, towards that light. A feeling of loss intermingled with a feeling of gain. She was traveling from one space to another, gaining something while losing something else. It was… weird.
As the white light enveloped her, she heard another voice. This one was also feminine but sounded like it was in pain. A strained scream of desperation, different from the warm one she had just heard. This voice was cracked, shattered, in several pieces that refused to come back together. Yet they all agreed on one word to shout to Runner.
HARBINGER
Runner awoke, gasping for air. Her second first breath of life.