One #3
“W-why would you do this? You were to protect her! You—this… this is your doing,” he spat, his voice venomous and cold.
“THIS IS YOUR DOING!” His voice cracked.
He had every right to blame me, every right to grab me by my hair the way he did, balling it in his fist. He yanked me away from Gelia and toward him.
His free hand pulled out his dagger, hovering it an inch or so from my face.
I could do nothing but cry because deep down, I knew I deserved it.
His hands shook, lip quivering, as he stood there.
If he wanted to take my life, it was his to take.
Samael knew it too, standing there with that smug look on his face.
The Cruel Prince’s eyes were filled with such sorrow as he stared at me, and a single tear trickled down his face.
His hands shook more vigorously, and I couldn’t understand why he was hesitating.
It was only fair he took my life. Closing my eyes, I awaited the inevitable.
He exhaled, the sound prompting me to open my eyes again.
Watching him, he lowered his dagger, releasing it. It dropped to the floor at his feet.
“Prince Adrian, p—” I started to beg but faltered as he pushed me away.
I tumbled forward, farther than either of us was expecting, I think.
He was far stronger than I thought he was.
I lost my balance and fell straight into Samael, and as I attempted to regain my balance, one of his hands rested on my shoulder, and then I felt it.
All the air from my lungs was knocked out of me and replaced by the sudden taste of iron in my mouth.
I choked. Blood dripped from between my lips, down my chest, and I could have sworn that for a moment, time stopped.
I slowly looked down to see the dagger used to murder the Princess being used to do the same to me.
I don’t want to die.
It all happened so fast. Too fast. I didn’t know if Prince Adrian pushed me toward Samael that hard on purpose or not.
I felt nothing and everything all at once.
Samael’s eyes searched mine, but neither of us moved.
I could see it in his pupils, his brows slanted inward.
He didn’t want to hurt me, but he did. Samael twisted that dagger deeper into my abdomen.
A sound of genuine agony parted from my lips, followed by more tears.
I could feel my insides contort into an unnatural placement.
I stood there; nothing I could do would stop it, stop him.
The act had already been committed. My fate, already sealed.
My hands shakily gripped at the closest thing I could reach, that being Samael’s forearm, as he proceeded to slowly pull the dagger out of me, only to quickly shove it back into me so many times I lost count. 3, 4, 5, 6…
Why would you do this to me?
I managed to push myself off him with whatever strength I had left.
I stumbled back, bumping into the Princess’s dresser and knocking off her jewelry box in the process.
It fell onto the floor, opening; it played that tune.
A sing-song melody that reminded me of the sea.
The one Gelia and I used to dance to whenever she felt lonely.
I swallowed hard, somehow managing to regain my balance.
Prince Adrian’s eyes were glossed over and narrowed. My left arm instinctively grasped at the worst of my wounds. Not a word was exchanged, but then again, not a word needed to be.
I stumbled out of the Princess’s bed chambers and into the halls, slamming into the cobblestone wall. The Lords and Ladies that saw me in the halls gasped in horror. I struggled to keep my balance.
I heard the Prince shout, but my ears were ringing so loudly I couldn’t hear the words echoing down the halls behind me.
I didn’t dare look back to see if either of them followed me.
It didn’t matter anymore whether they did or not, anyway.
I needed to get home. If I could make it home to my father then maybe, if the Gods were merciful, I might stand a chance.
I pushed the kitchen door open and continued to stumble through the back golden gate and into the open snowy field.
My father’s home was just on the other side of that field if my memory wasn’t failing me in the way my legs were.
With each step, the sound of crunching snow beneath my feet echoed around me. The snow was thick. Like trudging through molasses.
I had heard the stories. That those who die the most tragic deaths were reborn into the most beautiful of Divine eternal beings.
My mother used to tell them to me every night until the very day she died.
Those who lived on the other side of the Wall, who called Wisteria and the Four Realms their home were not always born Divine.
That if one were to have a death so tragic that even the Gods themselves wept, they would give them the ultimate gift: a second chance.
A new beginning, a new life to call their own.
If one were to die in such a way, they would be ‘reborn’ into the Realm of Seasons as a Divine being.
I always thought so highly of the Gods. They were gracious and merciful to us in so many ways.
I missed her, my mother, but I would be reunited with her soon enough.
I wasn’t worthy of a second chance. Soon, I would be in the Realm of the Passed with her and everyone else whose time was up.
I was losing far too much blood, far too quickly.
I didn’t need to see it to know; I could feel it.
Small droplets stained the frozen water beneath my feet red, leaving a trail of blood and snowy footsteps behind me.
My breath hitched, and I finally decided to look down.
I could smell the seeping blood to the point that it was nauseating.
It was pooling out of me, staining the only dress I had that wasn’t faded and covered in holes, yet I couldn’t feel a thing.
Numb, whether it be by shock or by cold, I didn’t know or care.
Just keep going. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t look back, I thought to myself.
But before I could go any farther, my knees buckled beneath me.
Please, no. Not like this.
The snow had always been so cold, so unforgiving.
I never cared for winter. It was always the harshest of all the seasons.
My throat tightened. The treeline wasn’t all that far.
Rows and rows of pine trees just over the hill.
If only I was closer, then I could have seen my father’s cottage made of pine and reed.
I could feel the essence of my life slipping away, no matter how hard I tried to hold on.
My legs shook until I fully toppled over into the snow.
I somehow managed to roll over onto my back and began choking on my own blood.
The cold air was tinged with the scent of iron, a chilling reminder that my end was near, as much as I didn’t want it to be.
I had never been afraid of death, but now that I was knocking at death’s door, I was. I didn’t want to die. Not now, not like this, not here, not in the snow, meeting my end like a rabbit caught by a hungry fox. Not alone. Anything but alone.
There was something so peaceful about how slowly the snowflakes fell from the sky. While the cold was bitter and harsh, it was just as beautiful.
I swallowed hard, feeling my blood seep into the snow beneath me.
The world around me was beginning to fade, each breath harder than the last. My lungs were constricted and tight as they filled with liquid.
I never thought it would end like this. I knew death was inevitable, but I didn’t know that I was going to die today. Not by the hands of him.
I looked up at the sky above, taking one last look at Lelarin—the place I grew up, the place I called home. The place I wasn’t quite ready to let go of—or say goodbye to.
“I’m s-sorry Gelia,” I muttered, embracing the darkness that swallowed me whole.