Tether

Prologue

Death isn’t a living thing, though it stalks me with the persistence of something that is.

A nuisance that refuses to leave me be. Its shadows tug relentlessly at the corners of my vision, beckoning me into its infinite darkness.

I’ve never considered the events leading up to the moment your light extinguishes, until now, that is.

A better person would hold onto hope until their final breath, whispering prayers to a God that’s no longer listening, that they’ll live to see another sunrise.

But I am not a better person. I’ve never pretended to be worthy of dawn, and it sure as fuck isn’t hope that sustains me now—it’s rage.

A beast that lurks just beneath my flesh, like a living, breathing thing, forcing my feeble heart to take its next beat.

A violent chill tears through me, and the taste of copper burns my throat, consuming my senses as my warmth spills from the wound in my chest where a dagger had been lodged just moments ago.

Blood crawls across the marble tiles beneath me, staining them a deep crimson.

I strain my ears, listening to the muffled whispers surrounding me, as my body lies limp, my soul gradually slipping from the vessel it belongs to.

The room dances around me, my vision dimming in and out like a languid pulse, while a cloaked body crouches next to me as if they have all the time in the world, while I have mere minutes, if not seconds left.

“I warned you not to cross me,” the fucker’s voice echoes through the stillness of the air, and my entire body protests against it.

I try to speak, but when I do, it isn’t words that fill my mouth; it’s blood.

His eyes carry no remorse, not even an inkling of humanity, causing rage to burn hot beneath my flesh.

I thrash forward, reaching for his throat, itching to see the life drain from his malicious eyes, but my body is far too debilitated.

He laughs, amused at my inability to reach him.

Gasping and fighting for air to fill my lungs, blood trickles from the edges of my mouth as I cough up what feels like a lungful of my innards—and I know, without a doubt, the end is near.

I will neither plead nor beg for my life to be saved.

I will not cling to hope until the last remaining breath expels from my body.

Instead, I lie in wait for the silence to settle over me like a warm blanket as I’m pulled into the void.

I will find solace in my solitude, and I will seek vengeance.

I vow to myself with my final breath—they will know fear.