CHAPTER 16: DEATH’S COCOON
When Suryel opened her eyes this time, she didn’t move.
She stayed still, the way people do when they wake from a nightmare and aren’t ready to confirm it’s over.
‘I hoped I would be wrong, but I did expect this.’ She muttered the thought aloud, taking in the cemetery dreamscape that greeted her sight.
It didn’t look hostile. Not welcoming either. Just… Present.
Her breath slowed as she catalogued the absence of sound.
No wind. No distant movement. No warning.
The memory of the ICU chaos still weighed heavily, pressing into her mind like a hand she couldn’t shake.
Monitors flared red.
Alarms screamed.
Hands pumped over beds.
Some of those she had silently cheered for had never woken.
She understood, rationally, that it wasn’t her fault.
Life ended and continued on its own rhythm.
But emotionally? The guilt clung.
‘There were people fighting to live and lost… while I gave up and survived.’
The thought stuck like a burr. She had replayed it even while awake, staring at hospital ceilings, watching monitors flicker beside the other patients.
Survival had never felt like a victory. It felt like an imbalance, slipping through a door that closed behind everyone else.
She wondered if that imbalance had drawn this attention— This chase.
Her instinct to flee had always been reflexive, fast. This time, she chose stillness.
It felt wrong in her muscles, like holding a breath too long. Every fiber of her body screamed to run, bargain for distance.
But another, quieter part— Older, wiser, forged by years of fear and chaos— Knew that fear fed the chase.
So she stood. Rooted. Willing to be seen.
Even as the sun clocked out of its arc, she waited, quiet and present, as still as the dreamscape around her.
The black cloak appeared.
It didn’t drop from the shadows. Instead, it hovered, then settled over a tombstone, as if contemplating. Observing. Waiting— To see if she would feint, flinch, or run.
Suryel began to sweat. Discomfort crept into her limbs. It felt less like being hunted, more like being evaluated.
The dream itself seemed paused, holding its breath to see what shape she would take under pressure.
The air around the cloak thickened, heavy with expectation.
She dared not move.
Time stretched. After what felt like an hour, the cloak rose, shadows flicking at her edges like tendrils.
Suryel shut her eyes. Arms slacked. Hands shook.
Fear clung to her like an old friend— The first language she had ever spoken, the one that had nurtured her survival when the world was too much for a five-year-old.
Fear she had learned to navigate between realms, among nightmares and shadows.
The weight settled over her chest— The same she had carried as a child who saw too much and understood too little.
The dream was shaky and distorted. She shook like a leaf, curling inward. Paralyzed.
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She remembered Yael. Always calm. Always steady. Back turned to her, having just dispatched an imp that had played tricks in her previous dream.
His presence had weight— Solid, warm. He brushed away her tears and lifted her onto his back.
She remembered the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the way his steps never faltered even when the world behind them did.
Safety wasn’t the absence of fear. It was the presence of someone who stayed.
His voice threaded into her memory, as if carried by the wind through the cemetery:
“If you're in a nightmare and already afraid to face it. Close your eyes, do not let your sight betray you, let it rest. Feel for the ground with your other senses— The ones that haven't lost their clarity yet.”
“Turn your fear into harmless air around you, study it. Starve the vein where malice, and doubt feeds through. Take your time, you don’t need to rush.”
“When you are ready, and feel braver, open your eyes. You will be surprised to look and find. That, hey, that wasn't so scary after all.”
“Like when you were three. Do you remember? You were too afraid to enter and sleep in your room. You had sworn seeing eyes that blinked at you.”
“But Kuya held your hand and you checked… Felt for the switch on the wall and lit a light. You discovered that you were just looking at a mirror.”
“Suryel… I hope that you will remember. You will encounter many fears. Nightmares, like today. Always choose to have courage. It is already within you."
She remembered him pressing a fingertip to her nose, playful, and adoringly grounding.
Even as rustling vines whispered and sharp wind cut through the dream, Suryel kept her eyes shut. She did not run.
Every instinct screamed betrayal. Vision begged for confirmation of danger.
But she trusted the lesson.
Trusted the ground beneath her feet, the air on her skin, the rhythm of her breath.
The vines coiled around her legs, lifting gently.
"This is it. You have done it this time Suryel." She muttered with a cry, a thought she tried hard to keep internally with an exhale.
The cloak laughed. Curt. Controlled. Amused. Through closed eyelids, she sensed its shift, moving closer to examine her.
A warm breath swept across her face.
She swallowed the fear lodged in her throat and whispered, meek and honest. "I understand why you're chasing me. I wanted to tell you… I am sorry."
Silence settled across the dreamscape.
Another deliberate exhale brushed stray hair from her cheek.
The vines stirred again wrapping around her more, as if being layered in care.
The unsteady movement hinted it was taking her somewhere, gently, deliberately, and precise.
There were snapping noises as if stray leaves and branches were carefully being moved out of the way.
There was no painful sensation, no tearing noise— Only motion.
She smelled damp earth. Felt the chill of soil. Light behind her eyelids dimmed. Darkness felt intentional. Protective.
Risking a peek, she opened her eyes, puzzled but not complaining at what she saw. The vines shifted quietly, weaving around her in a suspended cocoon.
Underneath the soil, she realized, she was being swaddled like a child.
‘It feels so soft…’ Suryel thought. Her eyes blinked, heavy with lingering courage and fatigue.
She wanted to keep watch and see more but the effort of stillness had claimed everything she had.
Rest came gently, inevitable. Her eyes and lips formed calm, thin lines.
The black cloak hovered at the mouth of the cavern, poised and attentive, leaning on a suspended root.
Then Azriel’s figure took form within it with a quiet smile.
"You did well. Sleep well our little Sunbird." He whispered.
Azriel’s face was somber, a oldest brother stepping into his watch.
Silent, weighty, melancholic. He observed without movement, a presence threading through shadows. The air seemed to hold its breath in his company.
Suryel exhaled slowly.
The cocoon cradled her.
Her muscles unclenched.
The shadowed forest of vines around her breathed along with her.
Darkness and fear had not vanished. They were held at bay, managed, contained.
Azriel’s gaze swept the dreamscape, slow and measured. Death, for him, was neither cruel nor kind— Just an opportunity to shift. To transform.
Shadows lingered, resistant, restless but he did not flinch.
His presence pressed without force, steady and calm, a quiet certainty that nothing could disturb Suryel’s rest or her first steps toward herself.
The intruding presence sensed it too, pausing, recoiling before it left.
It knew it could not contend with him.
Azriel had been the shadow behind her chase, the subtle guide through three relentless days.
Now he simply watched, still as stone, letting the world settle around her.
She drifted then, not running, not fighting.
For the first time after two nights, the chase ended in stillness, not survival.
Sleep claimed her fully— And Azriel, quiet as a grave, kept his watch.
Author Note:
If only my cats would be as calm when I swaddle them for medicine when they were young. Yes I am looking at my sweet orange and my baby void.
