Reincarnated Into A Dead Woman's Body In Another World-Chapter 380: [Bonus - ] The Ashen Whisper (II)

Part 2: Ashes to Ashes

"Ngh-gh!" Arabella thrashed and kept kicking the sand under her to no avail. Her wrists had been tied behind her back with cloth, dust and sand were stuck to her face and her hair was gripped in a man’s hand.

Feathers fell off the still-twitching desert hawk as it was thrown into moving black sand. "NO! AGH! HARR!" Arabella screamed and thrashed further while held against normal sand.

The hawk sunk into the black sand and began moving with the current of it. Ash and haze she inhaled more and more as she panted for breath—tears of pain, anguish and hopelessness running down her cheeks.

Soon Arabella began coughing, louder and more violently; no Sun shined as a little girl’s coughing cries filled the air around them. The three men stood and watched the hawk suffocate and disappear.

The man who held the long dagger previously had a dagger mark cut from his and down his cheek. The man with the beard and missing turban held a small five-year-old in the air by the arms—her arms, ankles and mouth all tied with fabric.

The last man, who had a cloth covering his face, had a few new bite marks on whatever skin was exposed around his neck—two crimson bite marks were also on his right hand, which held Arabella by her hair.

Rena cried and cried; some of her sobs escaped past the fabric tied around her mouth. Her eyes kept staring at her sister through tears.

Arabella watched as the three men talked to each other, in a language she could not understand. Reading their lips had no use, but she could see them point to Rena, then back to her.

The man with the dagger turned and peered down at Arabella. He walked closer and spoke, "You are more trouble than you’re worth. You are sick and your parts are not worth much, so your price is death.

Pray to Hisainrah that your death is quick and say your last wishes. Do not worry for your sister, she has been forgiven. We will make sure she has good use."

Arabella spat blood and phlegm from her cough into the man’s face. The man grunted and recoiled to wipe it off. The man holding her hair yanked her head up, but Arabella thrashed her legs around and managed to turn herself around enough.

Though her hair was still gripped, her legs were not tied, allowing her to kick that man in the crotch. "AH!" the man flinched and gripped her hair.

However, it was enough of a jolt that Arabella could pull free of his clutches and run away with a few strands of hair lost. She made a mad dash towards her sister and her captor.

The man holding Rena groaned, "Egh, so much nuisance," he flung Rena into the black sand. Peeps of cries and screams escaped past the fabric, as Rena’s watery eyes shot wide open.

"NO!" Arabella coarsely screamed her lungs out. The bloodcurdling scream was all Rena heard before the girl landed in the black sand and began sinking into the current. "RENA! RENAA!"

Arabella could not see Rena’s face or eyes—merely some part of her back and her tied up legs kicking upwards. She scrambled to the edge of the black sand and was about to dive in after her.

She did not have to do that, as the man who threw Rena, walked behind Arabella and kicked her into the black sand, face-first. Her arms and legs flailed, but they only sunk her deeper into the ashy sands.

Her vision had gone dark—soot she could feel enveloping her every limb and entering her open eyes and gasping mouth... She no longer saw her sister, nor sunlight—not even a speck of air to breathe.

...

...

"Good riddance," the man dusted off his hands, just as the other two men rushed over to him. They began speaking in their language. They pointed, they glared, their brows furrowed—seemed like some argument.

...

"Sister..." Arabella swore she could hear Rena’s voice around her. Pain began coursing down her windpipe and throat, her chest convulsed and her body could barely shake under all the current.

She could not even close her eyes, but the pain was numbing; because her vision was fading bit by bit into white. She wanted to get a last word out, but it seemed the sand simply would not allow it. Even so, her lips mouthed the name Rena, one last time.

... 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

...

The smallest, the tiniest little pocket of air opened up somewhere along her throat. Like a stuffy nose becoming unclogged, she took that small breath in an instinct, allowing her system not to shut down quite yet.

She felt that her eyes had not closed, but for the briefest of moments, it felt like she could see black sand slithering past her vision and not running against her pupils...

A force tugged at her limbs, foreign yet somehow familiar. Her fingers crumpled and bended—the black sand adhered and moved to its movement.

She reached her arm up, further and further. The current of black sand aided her ascent through the ash. Like an hourglass, the sand filled the space she left and she kept reaching up in an instinct.

The three arguing men came to some sort of consensus and had let it go. They watched the black sand move and move; then glanced left and right to the stretching desert; the view that was hindered by haze.

Just as they turned however, they heard the rapid stirring of sand along the earth. All of them swivelled their heads around to notice a small whirlpool forming within the black sand.

They watched as sand, soot and dust began to rise, though no wind blew. Out came a hand from the black sand, its nails and palms covered in grime.

Panic grew in their eyes and they looked all around them and began shouting in their native tongue, with their weapons out to threaten whoever was playing a trick on them.

With widened eyes they beheld, the little girl they had just thrown in, rise up with two spiralling pillars of black sand under her feet keeping her aloft.

Arabella blinked and ash fell from lashes as she now stared to the bewildered men before her... Through her reddened and somewhat swollen eyes, a black gem-like ripple flashed across. The men took one step backwards, then another and another...

Black sand swirled around her in multiple crescent shapes, forming a sphere of them around her—swishing and swooping. The only thing she sensed... was a feeling of where she would direct her sudden anger.

She eyed the three men from above and... "Swish!" One crescent blade made of ash, made one simple slash in a wide arc and fell as black sand.

Three throats choked in an instant and crimson fountained down their necks, before all three beheaded bodies dropped after a few random steps. Their eyes twitched at the sight and died with them stuck in shock.

Sand began to descend, Arabella along with it. She walked forward, allowing the black sand to deposit her safely on the river’s bank. She breathed and panted—blood trickled down her nose and eyes.

Arabella fell to her hands and knees, groaning and convulsing as she did. She coughed more violently and continuously till she vomited on the sand—not only blood, but also the black sand she had ingested.

Every grain of sand came spewing out of her mouth; she felt tingles in her brain, as if it was manipulating the sand to get out of her system. Gruelling as it was, she lied on her hands and knees for several minutes through it all...

_

"Girl," some man shouted out.

Dusk had arrived—the haze had been brought down, giving a clear view of the vicinity. The last of the smoke travelled along the sand like snakes southwards, till it joined the black sand, forming somewhat of a river.

By the edge of that river, sat a girl with her arms around her knees—watching the black sand move. Flies surrounded the three dead men; and the other bodies lying about...

At least a dozen or so men were dead all around her—all with their heads detached from their bodies. Some of them had exposed tattoos, symbolizing a sunset or perhaps a sunrise. The man that killed Mira had that same symbol on the back of his left hand.

Her tears had dried out; remnants of them had cleared their way down her otherwise dusty face. Her body only whimpered once, before her face turned with a glare and ash began to rise from the black sand.

"Woah, woah!"

"Calm down child!"

"We mean no harm!"

Two men stood with their hands in the air. They both wore flowy white thawbs and headdresses—one with a beard and another with a face cover.

Arabella scanned them from top to bottom in a daze and-

"We are from the Khathi! We are not with these men!" one of them shouted.

The ash floating around her slowed down, but kept a guard by orbiting her. Her reddened eyes were trained on them and she never blinked.

One of them took a small step forward in the sand, as if he was approaching a wild animal. His hands never left the air and Arabella’s control over the black sand did not quicken; it emboldened the man to take another step.

"You know who we are? We can take you home, no harm done," he continued.

The black sand gradually became more mellow...

_

Footsteps descended a set of stairs, barely giving off a sound. Sat in an open-air chamber furnished with lavish sofas and jewelled tables, Arabella glanced up.

From her view, she could see through an archway and the polished columns, the one coming downstairs.

His hairy hands had a different coloured jewel on each finger, embedded within gold rings; his right ring finger had three massive cubic gems so finely cut that they glimmered.

Wearing similar white robes to all of the men in the vicinity, the tall, tan-skinned, muscular man approached. His brownish-black beard had bits of grey sprouting out; perhaps he was in his late thirties or early forties.

He spoke some language that was practically gibberish to the little girl’s ears. But as he approached with his thick brownish-black tail swaying behind him, she knew his words were directed at her.

His bare feet traipsed along the dustless carpets and he lowered his head to meet the gaze of the child sitting in the room. One of his wolf-like ears—the left one—was torn, leaving only a quarter of it leftover.

He kept talking, to which Arabella blankly stared... The wolf-man scrunched up his thick brows, "Cravol?"

...

Arabella slowly shook her head and clutched two feathers that had brown and white patterns in her hand tightly.

"Krian?" he raised a brow.

To that, the little girl nodded quickly.

"Ah, so you can understand," he spoke rough in tone. "The Khathi Faction; you know of us, which means you are from here, yes?"

She nodded.

"The outskirts?" he looked at her ragged clothing and unhealthy complexion.

Arabella avoided eye contact and gave another nod.

"Name?"

She took a moment, but eventually parted her lips, "Ah-" she coughed downwards and it slowly grew into a fit. All the men around took a step back and the noble that was talking to her stood upright.

He snapped his fingers and walked a few steps away without a care. Soon, a woman with a tray rushed over with a metal cup filled with water. The woman lifted Arabella’s chin and poured in the liquid.

Arabella gulped it down and her coughing came to a stop... Her throat felt a little more soothed—in fact, better than it had been in weeks. The water itself was tastier on the tongue.

"You are sick—like most in Asheva. And yet you killed a dozen grown men from the Revan Clan. My men tell me, the Revan Clan were sending men after men to the black sand and I find out, little girl kills them?

I ask, how," he said in amusement. He chuckled, "Blessing of Lord Alborz it had to be; you have the gift of an affinity. But I ask, why were you there, little one?"

Arabella opened her mouth, "My sist-achk-eh! Ack!" was all that came out; she held her throat and her eyes waned.

The wolf-man sighed. He towered over Arabella as the woman who fed her water kept her head bowed down and moved away. He crouched down—to the surprise of his men—and began moving his hands.

Arabella looked at his movements and stared.

"Ah," he mouthed out as he formed his fingers into a shape. He took Arabella’s hands and put them up with the feathers in her grasp, then made the shape again.

The little girl stared... then mimicked the shape with her fingers.

"Good. That is ’Ah’. Only the first part of your name you said. Your actual name will be different. Understand?"

Arabella nodded.

He made another shape with his hands. "Yes."

Arabella copied the gesture that meant understanding. "Y-y-ackh-s," she tried to speak it back, but still coughed.

He put a hand up. Arabella copied it. He pushed her hand back down and shook his head, "No need to talk for now. Can you write?"

Arabella shook her head.

"Read?"

Arabella pinched her thumb and pointer finger together.

"We can work with that. I am Ghiath, but you will call me Sayyed." The wolf-man stood up and placed his hands behind his back. "I have medication; you need it, or else you will die within a few weeks’ time at best.

An eye for an eye; death will be met with death. The Revan Clan will want your head," he warned in an ominous tone. He walked around, "Unless you are under my care. I will provide you food, shelter and protection.

You will use your gift and use it well. Failure will be met with punishment; success will be rewarded. If you bite our generous hand, we will feed you to the beakwinders. Is that clear?"

The bleak face of the little girl stared back... Her shoulders shivered, but she raised her hands that still held two of Mira’s feathers and signalled yes.

Ghiath gave a deep laugh with his fangs and snapped his fingers so that little girl would be cleaned up...