dig up her bones but leave the soul & joining

[sybil.]

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 55%; min-height: 9px; font-family:; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; padding: 20px"]Darkness was the first thing she remembered. Out of the darkness came a bone-chilling cold. Out of the cold came a deep ache, a strange longing for something she could not recall. Out of the deep ache came light. The light was gentle, and it beckoned to her sweetly. She heeded its call, and then, all at once, she was awake.

The acrid taste of fall passed her parted lips, and she moved, startled, from where she had been sleeping into a standing position. Something about this moment seemed unrealistic; it felt just like a dream. The panther inhaled, softly, and allowed her eyes to scan the area. What was this place? Better yet, what we she doing here?

A panicked feeling arose in her chest, and though she tried to beat it down as best she could, it won over her senses. Despite not knowing why, every fiber of her being told her this was wrong. This was a mistake. Why did her soul feel so hollow, like there was a gaping wound where her spirit was supposed to reside? A pained sound escaped her jaws, but the noise was hoarse from the disuse of her voice.

Countless names rested on the tip of her tongue, but try as she might, she could not put them into words. Frustration replaced the pain and a scowl creased her dark features. Sybil. That was the only name that morphed into something recognizable, but it was of no use - that was her own name. She already knew that. Hadn't she?

There were glimpses, visions, of smiles and herbs and books. Each time she reached for the promise of a memory, it evaporated in her grasp. She could not comprehend the reasons for this. She tried to remember what had lead her to this moment, but there was nothing. The only memory her heart held was of her awakening. "Resurrection, Sybil," the self-correction poured from her jaws like sludge; slowly, unpleasantly. Her accent shaded her speech, and it hinted at someplace either too far to return to or somewhere that never existed at all. Sybil wasn't sure which was worse.

Cloudy eyes shifted in the direction of the Ascendants' camp. Had she known there was life here? Was that why she had found herself practically on their doorstep? As a seer, she was supposed to have answers. She despised only having questions.

Resisting the urge to move on from this place, the panther held her ground, for something had mentally clicked for her. If the spirits needed her here, then here she would be. Their faint whisperings would be her only comfort now, and that was enough for her. The seer focused her attention on the Observatory in the distance and waited.

They would come, she was told.