“Ah, so you’ve brought a friend, Deforest?” A raspy voice asked. The creature’s voices slithered through the cold air and into her ears.
Pollyanna crossed her arms. It was true she was somewhat frightened, but she knew she was tough, even if she couldn’t remember who she was. “Yes, he’s brought a friend. He told me you can give me my memories back.”
“I see…” the voice dripped with anticipation. “Very well. I will tell you who you are.”
Pollyanna was surprised. “That easy, huh?”
“But be warned, once I tell you who you are, you will lose the most important thing you have.” The Spider whispered.
Pollyanna reached for her sword, but remembered that there was no sword at her hip. Is that who I am? A swordswoman?
Instead, she merely peered into darkness, her fists clenched. “Well, I don’t have anything to lose, so why not?”
There was a pause, and during that pause, Pollyanna had a strange sensation that what she had just agreed to was a grievously hideous error.
Eventually, the Spider said, “Very well. Here is what you wish to know; you are Pollyanna. You are the Arrozan Sword. You are the personification of strength itself. Your fondest dream is to rid the world of the weak and keep only the strong.”
All of Pollyanna’s memories returned to her at once, and, with a sudden burst of realization, she knew who the boy standing next to her was.
Her heart was hammering was with a jolt of excitement; her soul flared with unbridled euphoria. She threw her arms around him. “You have his dimples and his round cheeks…” she whispered.
“What do you mean?” The boy asked.
“You’re my precious son; the only son I will ever have. And you’re real—I can touch you, hold you, love you…” Pollyanna wept heavily.
“You’re my mother?” Deforest whispered.
“And you are the woman who foolishly threw away her greatest dream; you will have no children.” The Spider hissed.
Pollyanna’s hold tightened around Deforest. No matter what, she had to keep him in her life. “You will not take the most precious thing I have. I’ll kill you before I let you take him.”
Deforest was shaking—uncertain of what was going to happen to him. “What’s going on?”
“The deal has already been made. Seems familiar, doesn’t it?” The Spider laughed mockingly.
Pollyanna could feel her soul being ripped from her body. She took one more look at her son; this perfect being that someone as foul as she had made.
She committed the bright shade of his blue eyes to her memory, she brushed a hand through his blacker-than-midnight-hair, she squeezed his adorable, chubby hands, and admired the lovely coloring of his skin—lighter than her own, but darker than Rory’s.
A devastating wind kicked up, howling in their ears, and Pollyanna—her eyes full of tears—told her child the thing she was unwilling to tell any other living being.
“I love you.”
And then, she was swept away from that wretched desert, only, she wished she could have stayed. Not because she enjoyed treading upon the rough, blazing sand, nor did she like sleeping under the shade of night; that was a miserable experience—the worst in her life—but because meeting her son and living with him would have been worth that awful experience.
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