The labyrinth - 13 Recognition

Recognition The cold returned. Not the cold of stone. Not the cold of smoke. The cold of the figure's forehead against mine. Comforting. I was back. The white pulled inward. The universe narrowed to the threshold. To the two posts. To the seam where our bodies met. The figure had not moved. But everything had shifted. The trembling came first. A microscopic vibration in the hands that still hovered an inch from my jaw. Running through the air. Settling into my bones. The figure had received the second voice. Had felt what it cost. The door that opened and closed. The empty side where the vessel is left. The ancient solitude had found a ground to rest its head. Deep within its chest, the frozen wind caught. A sound rose from the dark. Not a word. A long, slow exhale that brushed against my face. A sigh that carried the taste of old sand and cold, empty spaces. The red thread lay slack against our bound wrists. Still. The voices in the labyrinth waited. I spoke directly into the seam between our faces. "I am here." The faceless front of its head tilted. Absorbing my assertion. The reply didn't come from a human throat. It formed in the silence we had generated between us. "I know." Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.