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She couldn’t remember how to breathe, how to think or even how to open her eyes. She wished as fiercely as she never had in her entire life, that she hadn’t been such a coward. Such a pathetic, hateful and ignorant coward.
She also wished that she could fold herself so small, so unmeaning and small, that she would live in a blank nothingness, just like she was nothing and always be nothing forever now. She wished as third and last, that she could burn her nose, sparing herself, giving herself the mercy she didn’t deserve. She grab a rusty knife and hacks away at her face in order to do it. Even if it meant that she would never smell the slightly burnt bread from Mamma or the perfume of her Granny. Because it meant she would be liberated from the horror scene she had created.
Liloun, the most unknown person, the most unimportant woman in the universe threw her head in her neck screaming. Lips peeling away, letting the darkness within her bleed into the world for all to hear. Disheveled, messy, unrecognizable. She was screaming, screaming for redemption, screaming for salvation…
Screaming for the dead.
Red-hot tears streamed down her dirt-covered, washing away a mere hour of travel. She refused to open her eyes, she refused to accept what had happened because of her. She tried to close off her senses, but in the darkness of her own choosing, they were heightened. She could hear the crackling of the fire, she could hear the snapping of bones of the body she was holding too tightly. She could smell the start of decaying flesh and the flesh of the burning dead. Her magical connection with the earth made her feel all the life around her.
Feel all the absence of it.
Liloun cursed the Gods, cursed the dead but most of all she cursed herself. Because the gods had never listened to her anyway because the dead had not known the upcoming danger and herself for making it possible. Liloun put her forehead again on the shoulder of the fresh corpse she was cradling like she was trying to sooth a young child to sleep. On the shoulder of her lover. On the shoulder of her wife.
She owed it to her wife, to the carrier of her unborn child, too look at her. To burn that face in her memory, on her eyelids forever.
Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t –.
Your fault, your fault, your fault, your fault –.
Her breath became knives, plunging down her throat, stabbing her heart. Her chest felt too tight for the maniac heartbeat that pounded within.
Phylian.
Her salvation and the goddess who graced her life, lighted up her world.
Her face was set in pure horror covered with ash and soot, smudging her beautiful and kind face, her eyes a glassy white staring at nothing.
This is your legacy. Said the evil voice of her darkest self in her own head. Embrace it, this is the circle. You have ended your last one, this marks not the end darling, it is the start. The start of many great things.
She had always fought against that voice. Fought against it even if she was broken, tired, had slept on rocks in the snow. She had fought against it with all the strength she could master. Now… she tried to pull a strength, even the smallest amber of courage or ignorance. But she would find no strength this time for bravery came in three sizes. Bravery because you need to be for others. Ignorance, when you don’t understand the threat against you, or lastly, death, when you didn’t want to live and need to be brave to end it in a noble and heroic way.
Yes, she wanted to die, to die with her love but who was going to bury her and Phylian? Who was going to say the blessings of the death? No one…
Liloun watched her surroundings once more, branding it in her mind.
Good, very good. It’s the circle which you are a part of. Take your rightful place within it, flow with the current of life. Feast on despair and pain, party with light and wine. This is life, this is good, this is your rightful place, this is your legacy.
Yes… yes… the village which she grew up in was burning down. She was on her knees on the square where she and Phylian had first met. It was an oval square beautiful in it’s simplicity, the booths of the daily market were reduced to ashy bones of wood. The fountain in the middle of the square was still pouring the wine for the festival of tonight was red and too thick to be wine now. And most of all the flames that still raged on, made shadows that danced before her, the last mockery of the gods upon her.
Breaking, beating, a scream.
A runaway horse was racing toward her, its mane on fire. After her cries being the only sound created by a living being, Liloun was not sure to be happy of the change. The horse nickered hysterical, running right toward her, not showing a sign of stopping. She could not force herself to move. To jump out the way, not if it meant abandoning Phylian.
She smiled. Watching the magnificent beast of black fur and elegance race toward her, dropping her gaze back at Phylian, she stroked her soft cheekbone, her tears falling silently now, cleaning her face in the process. She kissed her still warm lips, one last time. Silently saying goodbye to her lifeless body.
Bahm!
Liloun head jerked at the powerful explosion of sound and darkness to see a muscular and even more powerful male body pushing the horse away like it was a toy. The man was dressed in strong but completely worn-out clothes. A pair of black pants and a long-sleeved blue shirt filled with burn marks and to top it off, a leather apron who she knew was passed on to generation after generation. Darkness oozing off of him like blood of a knife.
The horse had been mere meters away from her and Phylian. The beast lay on its side, completely still. Dead. Still smoldering
The man turned toward her, without seeing his face she already knew who it was. Terrien. And… and where he stood was a spider web of cracks on the stones. He had… he had terraformed to here, to help her. Terraform what was black magic, which being caught meant six years of torture and then hanging.
He is just a simple monster. You, darling, are a beast of utter perfection. You are above him, you are above all. He isn’t part of your circle anymore, depose of him, before he makes you enter his circle. Quickly and painless. He will suffer for six years. You will save him from that destiny, you would be merciful, a savior.
A savior. Yes… she would be a savior for him even when she had failed to be one for her home village. Like she had failed for Phylian.
Terrien slowly approached her, as careful as he would do if she was a cornered beast. He crouched in front of her, not looking at him, Liloun kept watching Phylian. Still tracing her cheekbone with her finger.
“Lil.” He whispered. She ignored him.
“Lil.” Harsher this time. “We need to go. We can take her with us, give her a proper pyre. But we can’t do it here.”
Liloun just stroked a piece of Phylians hair, tucking it behind her ear. Like it would matter now. She couldn’t imagine leaving her side. The side of her wife and mother of her unborn child. The future she had lost.
Terrien massive and scarred hand wrapped around hers, his hand easily engulfing hers. He gently pulled her on her feet, but Liloun just kept looking at Phylian.
Be a savior. Save him. Save him from his torturous fate.
Savior, savior, savior, savior, savior, savior-
Your fault, your fault, your fault-
Murderer, murderer, murderer, murderer-
Yes. she is a murderer. She was to blame. Now – she would also be a savior.
Liloun raised her eyes to the grey ones of Terrien, who’s were set in concern and sadness. She took in his scarred face, sucked it up in her memory.
“Lil? We need to go. Do you understand?” Yes, she understood.
Liloun grabbed his chin and the back of his head. All sadness and concern left his grey attractive eyes. Only surprise and fear lingered.
“I understand. I understand now, don’t worry.” She whispered. And snapped his neck like a chicken.
Lil the Fair died.
And Liloun the Beast arouse from the ashes.