For what that is already dust

Chapter 6: Sleep your keep

The apartment plunges into darkness, save for the faint glow of streetlights filtering through half-drawn curtains. Vykaria moves soundlessly-no creaking floorboards, no hitch in breath-to her bedroom.

She doesn't bother with pajamas not when she slept in worse conditions on battlefields,coffins and caves. Just strips off her outer layer (a black sweater Dale bought her three years ago) and collapses onto the mattress. The pillow smells like nothing; centuries of clean laundry cycles have bled all scents from fabrics.

A pause as she stares at ceiling... waiting.

(For sleep.)

(For dreams.)

(Anything to escape this moment.)

But immortality is cruel like that-sometimes rest comes too easily; other times it feels impossible after millennia spent awake while mortals dreamed beside you... Tonight? It's quiet. Heavy with exhaustion more than anything else.

[Thoughts] "I hope I dream of fields."

(The ones Elphash farmed when she was small enough to be carried on his shoulders...)

(Not blood or battles or ruins...)

Memories cascade in her mind's eye,like a waterfall in rushing rivullets. One where she felt hearth beneath feet ,while flames danced in the void,the embers flickering across sandalwood skin, back when Vykaria was still human enough to understand the concept of warmth illuminated by fire or coldness at the abscence of light in harsh, calloused winters.

And then nothing...

But the vast expanse of darkness swallowing her consciousness, a small mercy for a temporary reprieve.

Tommorow soon arrived,as the sun rose again,the morning light hit her flesh for the millionth time interrupting her slumber with an abrupt routine,stirring her awake.

Great she had work again,which may explain why most people wish an early death nowadays, which to be honest she doesnt entirely blame them, because if this where millenia got Vykaria with some technological advancements as upgrades to make the mundanity more bearable,she wouldve prefered to sleep in that coffin for another century.

Funny story how she got inside there to begin with? Vykaria offended a man's ego whos pride was devasting enough to drown lives apparently hers included, when she rejected his proposal and was declared a witch thanks to his rumours and status as a lord because ofcourse it was some pompous rich patrician's son that took her no as an insult when he deemed Vykaria below him assuming she was an ordinary peasant which to him somehow gives him the right to be entitled to her choices,she was then burned in a pyre, but was then sealed shut,nailed in a coffin,after realizing maybe they werent far off with their accusations since burning her clearly didnt work as expected ,as depressing as that thought may be.

The sunlight stabs through the cracks in her curtains like tiny, mocking spears. Vykaria blinks against it-slowly, like a predator woken from hibernation.She groans-an actual sound of annoyance, something mortals do daily without a second thought. She hates mornings.

Especially these kinds-the ones where she has to go to work (because even ancient immortals need money for rent and food). The job isn't glamorous: office assistant at a tech startup that thinks "vibes" is a valid business strategy. It pays well enough... but goodness, the people.

A flashback hits as she sits up: That lord.

(The one with beady eyes and a voice like nails on slate.)

(Who called her "a peasant ungrateful for his favor" when all she did was say no.)

(Who then had his men drag her out by hair while village cheered because they feared him more than they cared about justice...)

[Memory] The pyre crackling beneath bare feet; smoke burning lungs before flames could even lick skin... then waking up days later in coffin buried shallowly-nails rusted halfway through wood from damp earth.

(Funny how mortals assume death sticks if you just try hard enough.)

A bitter smirk twists Vykaria's lips as she mechanically gets ready-shower too hot (she likes it that way), coffee blacker than her mood. Dale texts:)

"u awake? i made u eggs"

With all the enthusiasm of a corpse she dryly texts back a simple 'yes' , why does he even bother anymore? 180 years should be plenty of time for Dale to be bored of his mind and find routine to be futile especially breakfast,they dont exactly need to eat it much less herself.

But still decides to let them indulge in their theatrics because frankly there was nothing much to do that mattered to Vykaria.

Better question is how was Dale somehow still single? Thats the type of energy most mortals would appreciate and even swoon over thanks to his consideration towards those he cares for or was he just that shallow to hide himself from social interaction? If so no wonder.

Either way it has zero affect on Vykaria but it would do her a favour if he dedicated that effort elsewhere towards someone who may care more? And judging by her mood on a daily basis definetly not her,she had enough of her distant cousin's theatrics ,not to mention that disaster of a movie Vykaria's poor eyes had to witness yesterday in the theater.

The eggs are perfectly cooked-golden, fluffy, with a hint of garlic. Dale always remembers how she likes them (even though he *knows* she could survive on air and spite if needed). They sit there steamy on a plate beside her coffee, looking painfully domestic.

Vykaria stares at them.

Not out of appreciation.

Out of... mild existential confusion.

"Why," she mutters to no one, "are you like this."

(It's not an accusation.)

(Just bafflement.)

A normal person would've gotten tired by now-of making breakfast for someone who barely reacts beyond a grunt, or going to theaters for terrible movies just because Vykaria begrudgingly agreed once... or remembering that she prefers black coffee over sweetened nonsense...)

[Thought] "He should date someone."

(Someone warm-blooded enough to match his stupid optimism.)*

(Someone who actually smiles when he makes them food instead of pretending it doesn't exist...)

She morbidly takes a bite of the food anyways,out of sheer obligation because somehow rejecting the pitiful attempt outright to this day felt exhausting. It wasnt too bad really.

Then briefly exited the doorway outside like some condemned woman heading to her execution ,which given the fact she was immortal in buecratic hell close enough.

She didnt expect much when she arrived,Melissa was not here today she's probably at maternity leave which wasn't a surprise to Vykaria afterall she pretty much knows the real drama of what occured over the idle gossip coworkers stir even if she was considered an outsider in Melissa's life by human standards since she knew too much for comfort.

She just slumped back into that chair and carried on work as usual,this was pathetic really.

Only thing new here was the recent email of some good for nothing business trip somewhere near babylon in Iraq for some volunteering work and then straigt to Jerusalem for a break,maybe she herself needs a vacation? There wouldnt be much point,not when Vykaria saw everything the world has to offer for sightseeing through her years.

But something intrigued Vykaria in a morbid sort of way,even when her sanity (correction whatever remains of her sanity) screamed danger,telling her to avoid at all cost ,because those places are specifically where her parents descended from ,and she inherited both as a result of her origins,she might aswell be staring at a graveyard,she already ignored irrelevant sentiments too many times and for once she decided enough ,and bothered to surrender to curiosity which shouldve died out a long time ago,nothing should spark her interest anymore.

The email glares at her from the screen-"Volunteer Opportunity: Reconstructing Ancient Mesopotamian Sites in Iraq & Cultural Preservation in Jerusalem. 2 weeks"

Vykaria reads it twice. Then a third time-like she's waiting for the words to rearrange themselves into something less... loaded

For a second, Vykaria's breath hitches. Not out of excitement (she doesn't *do* excitement), but something darker. A pull.

Babylon. The place where her mother, Ishtar, reigned as a goddess-where temples still stood in ruins but carried whispers of ancient blood magic and cursed rituals even modern scholars feared to touch. The land of her mother's bloodline, where Ishtar once walked and probably cursed entire generations just by existing there... Before history vanquished her into myth,and Jerusalem-the city where Elphash prayed every sunrise before dawn even broke... The two places that shaped Vykaria more than any other earthly location ever could...Jerusalem.

(Elphash's homeland.)

(The land of prophets and dust-covered scriptures...)

It's ironic: mortals organizing tours like it's some kind of spiritual pilgrimage when all Vykaria feels is... something cold and heavy twisting inside her chest.

Internally she thinks "This is stupid."*

(She shouldn't care.)

(It's not like anything from centuries ago will still be standing...)

(...Right?)

But curiosity whispered into her ears like a serpent ,beckoning her mind to temptation -the same one that made ancient civilizations dig up tombs or sailors explore uncharted seas-digs its claws into the back of mind anyway:

This is ludicrous theres nothing left there,no where left to go.

And yet....

Her fingers hover over keyboard.

Towards the 'sign up' on the digital format.