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Eizen’s face darkened, staring at the breadcrumbs that fell on Edna’s lap—or more exactly on the set of blankets he wrapped Edna with. Edna said that the palmiers were as good as always, but his sister was never good at lying.
Eizen had baked the palmiers for Edna as he always did, by making the crust with ultra-fine flour from carefully selected wheat. He never added too much sugar, just enough for the caramelization, and always took care of mixing a few tea leaves into the crust for fragrance. This was a recipe that Eizen knew like the palm of his hand. It helped that it was an easy pastry with few ingredients, just in case the Reaper’s Curse showed its ugly head—palmiers sure liked to burn fast.
Fold the puff pastry, add more sugar, do the other side too, flatten, repeat. Any other day, Edna would have sat at the table as Eizen trimmed the raggedy edges to end with the nice sliced shapes that would puff up with the heat, complaining like an impatient cat, because the oven took so long and surely there’s a better way and weren’t they seraphim. Eizen would huff before a smile revealing his true feelings inevitably showed on his face, because his sister was as precious as ever. It’s only ten more minutes, Eizen would answer as he opened the preheated oven, then another ten for the other side, all for the perfect golden-brown that Eizen’s meticulous nature demanded from him. Not that Edna needed to be told about it. Eizen would then shake his head after taking the tray off the oven under Edna’s watch, because how could Edna be so long-lived and have so little patience that she couldn’t even wait for the palmiers to cool completely. The air around them would be clean and pure, free of the dangers of malevolence, just like it always was in the deep mountainside that was their birthplace and home.
This was not any other day. Edna had remained quiet during the entire baking process, and it was only after several hours that she took a single palmier. The rest stayed as a pile on their plate. Edna hadn’t taken a single sip from her favorite normin mug either, with the black tea that she always liked to accompany the palmiers with and already went cold. The air was heavy and stuffed, and nothing could break the uncomfortable stillness that reigned Eizen and Edna’s house.
Edna was too calm, too silent. There was no bite in her words, but also no playfulness. Lifeless, came to Eizen’s mind. The disturbing thought froze him. Shaking his head, Eizen pushed it away and kept cleaning.
Seraphim did not need food, so eating was just a learned habit born out of how pleasurable they found it. Edna loved palmiers—or used to. After losing her sense of taste, Edna ate for nothing else but Eizen’s sake and their absurd pretense of normalcy.
Edna was sick, deeply so, and Eizen couldn’t soothe her and nurse her back to health with a warm broth or pureed fruit juice like back when she fit in his arms. The only thing that Eizen could do now is to wait for the inevitable end.
Eizen always wondered how long their days together would last. Everyone believed that they were careful, that misfortune happened to others and not to them, and then died anyway. Family, friends... Everything Eizen ever tried to hold onto trickled away, falling from his grasp. Somewhere in his heart, he always knew that Edna would not be an exception.
If only he was the one condemned to hellionhood instead of Edna. Fate was truly cruel and unforgiving.
“Take me to see the stars”, Edna told Eizen.
She didn’t need to finish her sentence for Eizen to understand that she meant to do it with “one last time”: this was Edna’s last day, and they both knew it.
Eizen agreed and, ignoring just how easily he lifted Edna and how much her touch burned him, carried Edna to the summit of Rayfalke Spiritcrest. This mountain was his eternal vessel and most intimate friend, so navigating up its steepness and the dozens of dead ends was no problem for Eizen even with the extra weight. Only one path would lead him to the top, and Eizen could get there even with his eyes closed.
Not missing how the temperature was falling the higher he got, Eizen stopped for a moment to kiss Edna’s forehead. Eizen knew that everything that started ended someday. That the curtain had to fall after the play, that the day had to end, and that Edna’s transformation into a hellion had to be completed. But the simple knowledge served as little comfort.
Eizen watched Edna as he walked up, trying to memorize every single detail up to the exact number of her eyelashes, the way her dress always made her look like a single flower blooming in a meadow, or the eyes a mirror of his own that held all the courage that Eizen was never able to have. He needed to etch this memory deep inside his mind, the memory of Edna’s soft body weight and the small space that she took in his arms, in where malevolence would not be able to defile it.
The setting sun of Edna’s last day stretched itself out on the sky, far beyond the natural rock formations that looked like dragon’s fangs scratching it. The sun rays spread out on the formerly blue canvas, bleeding across like a too-diluted pigment would in a watercolor painting and dyeing everything with oranges and purples alike. Very fitting, Eizen thought, that the sun languidly but stubbornly clung to the sky before disappearing the way Edna had to life.
Eizen always liked the view from this high: Rayfalke Spiritcrest always offered breathtaking sights, and that was another thing that never changed. But Eizen wasn’t appreciating the sight this time, and Edna didn’t look at it either.
“You will die,” Eizen said.
“Even still, it should be time enough for us to eat some palmiers together,” Edna said with simplicity.
“Edna, what are you saying?”
“It’s fine if you don’t want to, but that’s what I want,” Edna continued. “You haven’t made them for me in so long.”
Edna would not be dying if it wasn’t because of Eizen, and his cursed domain, willing his worst nightmare into reality. Rayfalke was supposed to be clean, free of humans and the malevolence bred from their hearts. ‘Trials to make you stronger’. Eizen scoffed internally. What worth was there in having a seraph’s blessing like this. What kind of growth was he supposed to induce into someone who was dead.
Eizen’s grave voice broke the silence. “Edna… I’m sorry.”
Edna didn’t want Eizen to blame himself, but how could he not? Edna wouldn’t die—seraphim were immortal, and dragons were no exception—but that didn’t make her imminent fate any sweeter: if not even her conscience would remain, then she was as good as dead. In fact, she might be better off actually dead but, for a dragon to die, it would have to be killed.
That was if the dragon didn’t kill you first.
“Eizen…” Edna let her head fall against Eizen’s chest, making Eizen’s chest tighten. The warmth color of the setting sun couldn’t hide her paleness, nor the circles under her eyes. “You said you were prepared for anything.”
“I’ve readied myself for anything that might happen, Eizen. Have you?”
Eizen frowned. Had he? Out of a sudden, Eizen felt younger, much too younger, several thousands of years younger. The same immovable feeling of loss that he felt back when he returned to Rayfalke Spiritcrest, still with his domain active that brought nothing but ruin, returned to him.
“I…”
“The end doesn’t matter,” Edna said with obvious exhaustion and effort, curling herself further against Eizen, repeating words that Eizen had heard countless times. “What matters… is the time we spent together.”
Eizen could feel Edna shivering against him. No longer contained, malevolence gushed freely from her body, pooling on the ground as if blood from an open wound. Eizen’s whole body screamed at him to get away from the purple venom, but he vehemently refused to let go.
Warning Edna that it was too dangerous to stay with him had never worked. Maybe this stubbornness ran in their family, Eizen thought.
“I was… only alive when I was with you. I lived my life as I wanted,” Edna said. “I chose—”
A coughing fit interrupted Edna’s words. Eizen cursed himself internally. Edna was the one dying, dying because of Eizen, and yet Eizen was the one getting comforted.
“Edna, that’s enough.”
Eizen gently took Edna’s small hands. His heart tightened: despite the summer, Edna’s hands were cold—Dead cold, much like the rest of her. He still could remember when Edna’s hands were small enough to wrap themselves around his finger. When did everything go so wrong?
Eizen held Edna’s hands in his to warm them up. He could do this much. He just needed a little time.
“Not enough,” Edna heaved for breath. “I have to keep speaking, because a certain someone never… gets a clue. Though that might not even do it… if I have to repeat myself all the time.”
Edna let out a snicker. This was the most that Eizen could remember her speaking in a long time, but she was still a shadow of her former self.
“I always liked palmiers… Because you spoke so enthusiastically about wheat, and flour, and cooking techniques. When you sent them… Through turtlez mail… They were not the palmiers that I grew to love. Not without your smiling face,” Edna kept speaking, not with obvious struggle, her eyes fixed on the sky without actually seeing it. She then turned her head around, slowly, meeting Eizen’s eyes. The way that she looked at Eizen still held the same wonder and adoration that Eizen never felt deserving of. “You never understood that… Awfully dense.”
“We might be alright right now,” Eizen said, carefully. “But there will come a time when we go our separate ways again.”
Eizen didn’t need to say anything more: Edna understood. She was smart and wise—wiser, sometimes.
Feeling the sting behind his eyelids as the sorrow welled up in his eyes, Eizen dug his nose into Edna’s neck. But, rather than the classic smell of chamomile and refreshing citrus that he remembered, all Eizen found was a bitter rotten smell taking its place.
“Eizen… You promised,” Edna said, as if she was seeing the same memory in Eizen’s mind. Eizen wouldn’t be surprised if she could. “I want to see… your smiling face. I’ll be selfish… once.”
Edna’s breath was ragged, and she had a shadow of pain on her face and sweat on her forehead, but she still wore the destructive smile that captivated Eizen from the very first time.
“Then, will you see me off with a smile once we part ways? Promise me, Eizen. Promise that we will see each other off with a smile once the end comes.”
Blinking away with stubbornness, Eizen wrapped up his arms around Edna’s emaciated body. Edna responded by holding onto him, her grasp too weak and her body still ice cold.
It’s not a selfish request, Eizen thought. He owed her at least this much, regardless of the bottomless loneliness in his heart that threatened to drown him.
After a while, Edna let go of him. Still in Eizen’s arms, she took off the rose gold ring that circled her finger. The green mark left on her finger, indicating the ring’s absence, clawed at Eizen’s heart.
“Keep it,” Eizen said, licking his lips, finally finding some of the words he wanted to say scattered among his whirlwind of thoughts. “Edna, just keep it. It’s your ring, I made it for you, I—”
But Edna shook her head. Eizen ignored the new sting of malevolence as Edna took his left hand and slid her ring on Eizen’s finger. It stacked perfectly on top of Eizen’s black ring, the one she crafted for him, because of course they did. Much like back when they gave each other matching charms in the same shape on the very same day, the two of them were always connected.
Eizen let his forehead fall against Edna’s, and called out her name like a chanted prayer, as if in a spell to make her stay. Nothing of this would last. The darkness overriding Edna’s mind would soon sever their once unbreakable bond.
“I love you, Eizen. Always have. Always will.” The memory fell distant. Too distant, too faint.
Eizen cradled Edna’s nape, brushing strands of blonde hair. Not knowing if it was his hands trembling or Edna who did, Eizen tilted his head and captured Edna’s lips. He kissed her across the centuries that once separated them, across the incoming ones that would separate them again.
Deepening the kiss, Eizen pulled Edna further against him, drinking her heavy dying breath like a drowning person gasping for air. He ignored the burning feeling of malevolence and allowed his mind to get lost in the feeling of Edna’s body against his, wishing that this moment could last forever.
The moment didn’t last forever. Edna pushed against Eizen’s chest, soft but firm. Eizen pulled back, staring at her.
“It’s… time.”
Edna’s small voice trembled. Eizen didn’t know how could he hear it, and maybe he hadn’t. Maybe Edna just spoke into his mind, much like when she told him her true name long before she learned how to speak.
If only he could carve Edna’s voice and keep it deep inside his chest. If only he could have all of her. Eizen wanted to wrap himself up around Edna, to press her down into the earth and then draw her into his body. Forever protected. Forever preserved.
Maybe he was like a dragon too: all-devouring and consuming.
Edna’s smile remained even as a droplet landed on her face, then two. Too soon, Eizen barely stopped himself from saying. Edna seemed to understand anyway, reaching out to wipe Eizen’s tears away.
With a strength that Eizen didn’t expect her to have, and supporting her small weight on her umbrella, Edna stood up and walked away—away from Eizen, and from life itself.
“Goodbye, my dear brother.”
She said it in a whisper, but for Eizen it felt deafening, so loud that it drowned everything else.
Edna’s legs staggered but, despite how much Eizen wanted to run to her aid, he remained in place, digging his fingers on the bare rock until they bled. This walk of death was something that Edna was meant to do on her own—without Eizen following her. Eizen bit back the self-deprecating laugh. He was so useless. He couldn’t even stay by her side until the very last moment.
Edna then stalled and, slowly, turned around. Their eyes met. Edna waved.
She was still smiling.
Eizen realized. Even at the very last moment, Edna was worried about him.
Eizen closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself. He had to endure this. He had promised that he’d make Edna happy, no matter what happened. Even if he couldn’t protect all of Edna he still could, at least, protect that smile. He couldn’t disappoint her now.
This was the same place where their eyes met for the first time. This would be the same place where their eyes would meet for the last time. Was this the despair that Edna felt when he left her behind? Maybe he deserved this as some kind of karma.
Eizen willed the muscles on his face to smile. He couldn’t tell how did he manage to hold himself together until Edna disappeared down the mountain’s path.
If only they had died together alongside the world, Eizen thought. He wouldn’t even mind if he became a piece of meat among her fangs—it was Edna who didn’t want him to stay there, chained to her just to eventually get mauled. Not that she would ever know if that happened.
Eizen’s Reaper’s Curse took countless lives, always tainting his hands with unwanted blood. His sister was just the last of his victims, and it could always be the last.
A dragon’s roar broke through Rayfalke, the earth rumbling under its new lord. Eizen didn’t realize that he was screaming too until his throat started to hurt.
Eizen lowered his head, and stared at his bloodied hands. In a world like theirs, where resonance among humans was flickering, he stood as the sole proof that Edna had once lived. In a world cruel like theirs, a memory was the only place that Edna could stay in.
Eizen could still feel the ghost of Edna’s body against his when he stood up. Watching the abyss down below, the cliff returned to Eizen’s mind, with its waves crashing against the rock and its promise of relief.
He never found a cure for the Reaper’s Curse. He would not find a cure that returned a seraph back to normal. His true name was truly the most meaningless thing Eizen had ever heard of, as meaningless as his cursed existence.
Feeling the vastness of eternity and forever weighing on him, Eizen walked down the mountain until he arrived at a particular spot. Without thinking twice, Eizen plucked one of the flowers, saving it in his pocket. Delicate and transient, just like her. Marked with a deadly countdown since the very first time that Eizen took it into his hands, just like Edna had been cradled by the scythe of a Reaper.
This was all that Eizen had of Edna now besides his memories: the flower he had named her after, and nothing else.
