Cross and Conflicts

CHAPTER XLV: Under the Parade of the Moon and Stars

“Cross, please,” Noumenon pleaded, her voice breaking. “Tell me what to do. I can’t just leave you like this.”

He let out a guttural scream, his hands clawing at the ground as though trying to anchor himself.

“Silence!” he shouted; his voice raw with pain. “I need silence!”

A violent gust of wind tore through the trees, their branches groaning in protest. Birds erupted from their perches, their wings slicing through the air in a frantic escape.

The moon seemed to glow brighter; its silver light seemingly intensified the terrifying scene which unfolded before her.

“Acccckkkkkkhhhh!” Cross bellowed, his cry reverberating through the night.

Noumenon stumbled back, her heart pounding as she watched him writhe in agony. He looked possessed, his body trembling as bloodied tears streamed down his face, carving crimson paths down his pale skin. The sight was both horrifying and heartbreaking.

He tilted his head back, his glowing crimson eyes fixed on the heavens as his anguished tears soaked his clothes and dripped onto the grassy ground. His lips moved, forming words in a language she couldn’t understand—a prayer, perhaps, or a curse.

"עֵזֶרִי מֵעִם יְיָ, עֹשֵׂה שָׁמַיִם וָאָרֶץ. יְיָ יִשְׁמָרֶךָ מִכָּל רָע, יִשְׁמֹר אֶת נַפְשֶׁךָ." (Ezeri me’im Adonai, oseh shamayim va’aretz. Adonai yishmereka mikal ra, yishmor et nafshekha)

The ancient words spilled from him in an eerie chant, laced with desperation. The sound carried an almost otherworldly power, resonating in the stillness of the night as though invoking forces beyond comprehension.

Still trembling, Noumenon braced herself. She couldn’t just stand by and watch. The swirling debris around him—stones, leaves, and fragments of the earth—formed a barrier, like an invisible wall daring her to cross.

“Cross!” she called out, her voice trembling but resolute. “Snap out of it! What’s wrong with you?”

A sharp pebble sliced across her cheek, leaving a thin line of blood. She winced but pressed forward, shielding her face with her arms.

“Cross!” she shouted again, her voice rising above the cacophony. “Listen to me!”

A sudden gust of wind struck her like a physical blow, knocking her to the ground. She gasped, clutching her stomach as pain radiated through her body.

“C-Cross!” she cried, her voice cracking. “Come on!”

His guttural chants continued, the ancient words spilling from his lips like a torrent. The barrier of debris grew more chaotic, the objects spinning faster and striking harder.

Through the chaos, she spotted a narrow opening. Summoning every ounce of courage, she darted forward, dodging the flying debris as best she could. Most struck her like stinging pellets, but she pushed through, her determination unwavering.

She reached a concrete bench and used it as cover, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. From her vantage point, she could see Cross’s back, his figure silhouetted against the moonlight.

In a desperate, dramatic move, she leapt over the bench and dove toward him, her arms outstretched.

Her arms wrapped tightly around him from behind, her trembling hands clutching his chest as if her grip alone could anchor him back to reality. His body was rigid, trembling with uncontainable energy that seemed to radiate in waves.

“Cross! Please stop!” she cried, her voice cracking with desperation. “Please! Snap out of it!”

But her pleas fell short. Cross’s chant continued, the ancient, guttural words spilling from his lips in a relentless loop. The very air around them seemed to vibrate with the power of his voice, each syllable driving the storm of debris into greater chaos.

“עֵזֶרִי מֵעִם יְיָ, (Ezeri me’im Adonai)” he growled through gritted teeth, his voice raw and inhuman. His glowing eyes burned like molten embers, unseeing, unrecognizing.

She gritted her teeth, her arms tightening around him even as her body was battered by the swirling debris. She could feel the unnatural heat radiating from his body, as if he were a furnace on the brink of combustion.

Suddenly, the ground beneath her feet vanished.

Her breath caught in her throat as she felt herself being lifted, a weightless sensation that was both exhilarating and terrifying. She gasped and clung to him even tighter, her head whipping around to see the earth shrinking below them. They were rising, slowly but steadily, the chaotic whirlwind of stones and leaves now spiraling around them like a cocoon.

“Cross!” she screamed, her voice echoing in the night air. “We’re floating! Cross, please, look at me!”

His body jerked violently, as though in response to her voice, but the chant did not cease. The crimson glow of his eyes intensified, casting eerie, flickering shadows on her pale face.

Panic clawed at her chest as they ascended higher, the mansion shrinking into a mere speck below. The wind whipped around them, cold and biting, but she refused to let go.

“You have to stop this!” she shouted; her voice nearly drowned out by the howling wind. “Cross! Don’t let this consume you!”

The world blurred around her as they ascended higher and higher, the air growing colder with each passing second. Her heart pounded in her chest as she clung to Cross, her arms trembling with the effort to hold on. The stars above seemed impossibly close now, their brilliance washing over them in an ethereal glow. For a fleeting, terrifying moment, she thought they might actually reach the moon itself.

“Cross!” she cried, her voice a desperate plea against the rushing wind. “Please, you have to stop this! Come back to me!”

His chant continued, relentless and guttural, the ancient words reverberating through her very bones. His crimson tears painted streaks down his pale face, and his eyes—dead and unseeing—seemed fixed on some distant, otherworldly plane.

"עֵזֶרִי מֵעִם יְיָ"

Then, without warning, her grip faltered.

It happened so suddenly that she didn’t have time to scream. Her hands slipped from his chest, and she plummeted into the void below. The wind howled past her ears, her body spinning uncontrollably as the ground rushed up to meet her. Panic consumed her, her mind racing with frantic thoughts. Was this how it would end?

But just as suddenly as she fell, she stopped.

Her breath hitched as she felt a strong hand wrap around her wrist, halting her descent. She looked up, her wide, tear-filled eyes meeting the unseeing crimson gaze of Cross. He was holding her, his grip firm despite the blood streaming down his face. His lips were still moving, the guttural chant spilling from him, but there was something different now—a faint flicker of recognition, a ghost of the man he once was.

“Cross,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You... are you alright now?”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t let go either. Slowly, as though guided by an unseen force, they began to descend. The whirlwind of stones, leaves, and debris dissipated around them, falling harmlessly to the ground. The chaos subsided, replaced by an eerie stillness.

Their feet touched the ground gently, the cold earth a stark contrast to the turbulence of moments before. Cross released her wrist, his hand falling limply to his side. He stood there, swaying slightly, his crimson tears still streaming as his eyes stared vacantly ahead.

Noumenon’s chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. She reached out, her fingers—reluctant, at first—brushing against his trembling arm.

“Cross,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her heart. “It’s alright. You’re alright.”

He didn’t respond, his gaze distant, his shoulders slumped as though carrying an unbearable weight. She realized then how broken he truly was, how much pain he must have been harboring all this time.

Taking a deep breath, she did the only thing she could think of. It was something she used to do for the orphans in the monastery when their nightmares became too much to bear.

She began to sing.

Her voice was soft at first, a gentle melody that filled the still night air like a soothing balm. The words of a mellow Christian hymn flowed from her lips, a song of hope and peace.

“Be still, my soul, the Lord is on thy side...”

The sound seemed to wrap around them, a fragile thread of light weaving its way through the darkness. His shoulders tensed at first, but as she continued, his body began to relax, the tension slowly melting away. His breathing steadied, the crimson glow of his eyes dimming as the haunting chant finally ceased.

Her voice lingered in the air, a soft, unwavering melody that seemed to breathe life into the stillness around them. His trembling form steadied further, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with her words. The ethereal tension dissipated, replaced by a fragile calm.

“Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain...”

She stepped closer, her face tilted upward to meet his, her petite frame illuminated by the soft moonlight. The wounds on her cheek and the ache in her limbs seemed insignificant compared to the weight of the moment. Her song became a lifeline, pulling him out of the depths of whatever torment held him captive.

“Leave to thy God to order and provide...”

Slightly trembling, her hand reached up once more, brushing the crimson streaks from his pale face, the warmth of her touch grounding him. His crimson eyes flickered, the haunting glow fading into something softer, something closer to human.

Cross’s lips parted as though he wanted to speak, but no words came. Instead, his breathing hitched, a faint, broken sound escaping him—half a recognition, half a sigh.

“In every change, He faithful will remain...”

Noumenon’s voice wavered slightly but did not falter. She sang each word with a gentle determination, her eyes locked onto his as though willing him to stay in the present, to feel her presence.

The wind that had once howled with chaos now carried her melody, winding through the trees and wrapping around them like a protective embrace. Even the moon seemed to shine more softly, casting a silvery glow over the scene.

“Be still, my soul... thy best, thy heavenly friend...”

His shoulders slumped, the tension fully draining from his body. He looked at her now, not through her but at her, his eyes raw with unspoken emotion.

She smiled faintly, her voice carrying the final line of the verse with a tenderness that felt like a promise.

“Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.”

As her song faded into the night, an almost sacred silence followed. For the first time, Cross looked... vulnerable. Human. His head dipped slightly, and he closed his eyes, allowing himself to lean forward ever so slightly, as though her presence was the only thing keeping him upright.

The silence enveloped them, fragile and profound, as though the world itself held its breath. His crimson tears slowed to a halt, leaving faint traces on his pale skin. The haunting glow in his eyes began to fade, the burning red softening into a cooler hue. Slowly, his irises returned to their natural ashy blue, a stark yet striking contrast to his white hair and pallid complexion.