31 Days of Horror 2025: Liminal

​The world around Hestia became murky under a grey film with fog rolling to consume her broken body. The pain dulled with her senses, her heart pounding beneath her ribcage the only sensation she could latch onto. Her eyes drifted upwards towards her assailant. The fog hitched towards her as if she sucked in a deep breath. The last few minutes hung over her in the shadow of a lurching figure.

He was still hunched over her with breath panting from his open maw like a wolf after a long chase. His hands trembled, one clutched around a jagged dagger still dripping her black ichor. She watched in stunned silence as he straightened his back and wiped the snot from his nose. He almost appeared undisturbed over the pockmark of holes he had plunged into her chest, eyes distant and bored.

"You... Bastard." Her words passed through him as he shook himself and trudged away from his kill. She narrowed her gaze and pried herself from the cobble and grasped towards him. He didn't react, busy wiping his blade upon his tunic. The weight of her body slumped behind her. The pain was gone. The blood bubbling in her lungs no longer drowned her. By Divin's grace, her body felt healed and light. Yet he turned away, abandoning his prey. 

Anger filled the void of the pain that escaped her senses. She lunged for his leg in an attempt to tackle him - make him pay for what he had done to her. Hestia's hands breezed through his ankle as he slinked off through the alley. Bewildered, she stared down at her hands. Like staring through a dirty looking glass, the cobblestones stared back at her through her flesh. 

A soft clearing of someone's throat broke the silence behind her. The sound was lost upon her as she pried herself to her feet. She turned herself warily and nearly fell back at the sight. There beneath her was her broken body, pink skin pale from the loss of blood. Her eyes stared back at her, the film of death glazed over her irises. "No..." 

The throat cleared a second time beside her as a wrinkled hand grasped her shoulder. Hundreds of bangles clinked in her ear, small charms twinkling with each small movement. "My darling infractus. It is time." The voice wrapped around Hestia like a silk blanket and cooled her panic before it could peak. 

"B-by the wings... Lady Mortem?" Hestia couldn't come up with anything more eloquent as the lace cloaked crone took her hand. The mother goddess had raptured her attention away from the world around them.

"Don't fret my dear. This world was not yet ready for your brilliance." There was compassion in her voice, something Hestia was not use to in this life. As an infractus, she had been doomed to hatred from strangers - hunted for sport and left for dead. 

No words could escape her. Nothing Hestia could think of would change this moment or her unfortunate fate. Instead, her grip tightened on the fragile aged fingers of her guide. Together, Mortem led her into the sky towards the moon Foromor, the home of the dead.