Word Count: 517

Her dreams were full of cages and chains and the cold burn of a lost soul. The screams of unknown captives were as real to her now as they'd been three months ago, and the pain, though distant, never seemed to leave her. It carved a place for itself low in her gut, a reminder of things she would have rather forgotten.

The darkness reached for her. If it could not have her soul then it would have her life. There were times when she would give in if only to escape her nightmares. The darkness had tarnished her purity when the soul slid like ice down her throat. It clung to her like a parasite and threatened to eat her alive.

Ganymede awoke from her dreams on a wide, canopied bed, in a room of cream walls and gold moulding. For a long while she stared at the far wall and let the warmth and the life of her home world soothe her. It helped her to overcome the memories. It relieved her pain, allowed her to grow numb to it, so that she might move forward without it.

It was dark in her bedroom on Ganymede. Prior to her falling asleep, the sky had been as bright a blue as that first day, and the sun had been shining in splendor. Now the room was dim, devoid of sunlight, like night had come early.

Then she heard it—the tapping upon the windowpanes.

Ganymede rose and turned to the windows, to the balcony doors made new. Out there in the courtyard the sky was gray, and the sun hid behind thick clouds leaden with rain.

Tap-tap-tap the rain went as it hit the glass, sliding down in rivulets to soak the ground beneath.

Ganymede climbed off of the bed. Her stockinged feet took graceful steps across the plush area rug, over the wooden floors, to the doors of the balcony which usually remained locked. She unlatched it. Rain pelted her face as the doors swung inward, as she stepped out onto the balcony and turned her face up to the sky.

The air was cool, but comfortably so; it smelled of wet earth and clean air. Soon her collar and corset and train grew damp. Against her skin, the rain was refreshing.

She cupped her hands and looked down to watch the rain collect within them. It turned golden against her glowing palms. Ganymede drew her hands apart slowly and watched as the rain slipped through the crack that formed between them.

She laughed—a high, ecstatic sound, enthralled and disbelieving. Ganymede scaled the balcony railing and jumped to the courtyard below. A puddle splashed when her bootless feet landed against the cobblestones, sending a spray of water up her legs.

She spun on the spot and opened her arms wide. She turned her face into the rainfall again. It streaked down her cheeks like joyful tears.

Something inside of her pulsed with life. This, she thought, was the first rainfall Ganymede had seen in a lifetime or more.

She let it wash all the darkness away.