The stars shivered in the calm night sky, contrasting with the actions occurring on the surface, where a 'mother' cried out for her child as golden blood poured out of the wound in his torso.
She, knowing that her end was near, prayed for the soul of her beloved offspring and begged with her last breath to be able to see him one last time, but he never looked out of her window.
Fulfilling his wish would be a more selfish act than he imagined.
(…)
A roar shook the castle from its foundations, taking away the reverie of all its residents with the stomping and decorative porcelain tableware shattering against the ground.
It seemed that something huge had awakened from its slumber and sought destruction as a stretching exercise.
The metallic march of the knights soon resounded through the corridors, mingling between the screams of the employees and the flesh being torn apart by swords. The clashing and crawling iron hinted that a veritable battlefield had been unleashed in less than two hours, as if death were looking for new subjects.
Despite being aware of the growing hell outside his room, King Rofeil made no effort to get his body out of the soft mattress that slowly engulfed him, snorting each time that some luminous object moved near his window, illuminating his entire room followed by an explosion.
He didn't care if his reign perished the day after his coronation, just as he himself would do if any creature decided to sneak into his chambers.
He only deigned to stretch out his hand upwards, imagining how things would have turned out if he had accepted the request to escape with Liuston. His heart stirred tortuously at the memory of that name.
A chuckle marked by sarcasm slipped from his lips as he remembered that it was a ghost. Liuston escaped his responsibilities quite some time ago, so he could lead the life he wanted, even when he was dead. Taking it with him was a simple craving from the beginning. Maybe he didn't even love him so much if he abandoned him as soon as he received a refusal.
He sighed, clenching his fist and turning his body to the side. The catastrophe continued abroad, but lamenting was his priority.
He didn't even feel motivated to defend his own castle. What a disappointing king.
Surely Miria had some good advice to help him stop thinking about Liuston, or she might even know spells capable of erasing memory, but her desire to be alone far outweighed those to call her.
He changed his mind when he heard knocks on his door, which quickly turned into pleas and choked, leaving a pool of blood flowing onto his carpet.
…
Where was Miria?
She knew no defensive magic, so she was possibly tending to the wounded, though a bad feeling haunted the tranquility of that conclusion.
What if you got hurt? She was very clumsy with her long legs, as if she was born to be an ordinary woman and not one of about two meters. You could be hurt.
Rofeil struggled to escape the mattress that continued to swallow him, taking a slight look through his window to make sure his illness wouldn't be a deterrent.
Perfect. It must have been five in the morning.
He wouldn't lose his best friend as well.
Walking in his nightgown was not an impediment to slamming the doors of his bedroom, amazed by the large number of anthropomorphic beings annihilating his knights in the corridor. Some were even eaten alive, which turned the young ruler's guts.
He jumped up and down a few times to try to dodge the blood and mutilated bodies that were getting in the way of his search. The viscosity of the fluids under his feet made him slip and bristle, deciding that he did not want to continue watching this macabre spectacle and that he should end the suffering of his poor followers himself. He lifted one of his fingers, and a torrent of flame surged from him, snaking toward his enemies until they were enveloped in a scorching glow. The wood and meat of the site were consumed instantly, starting a fire with the unpleasant smell of burning bones.
Despite understanding that the fire would destroy part of the castle, Rofeil decided that it was the lesser of his evils. I would think about how to rebuild it or what touch-ups to do once all that madness was over.
The prayers of the souls in pain ceased, being replaced by the crackling of the fire spreading within the walls, on the floor, on the very ceiling, following the steps of the sovereign as if he were holding him with a strap.
"Miri?" He called, his voice spreading across the length of the abandoned hallway. Only the wind blowing in from a broken window answered him, whispering war cries.
Then the king's eyes went to his bare feet, thoughtful and tired even though he was a person of nocturnal habits.
What if he was outside the castle? The use of weapons there was still perceptible. Perhaps she was pulled by the crowd and did not make it back.
With that in mind, he quickened his pace, realizing that he would never finish going downstairs if he tried to get out like on any other normal day, finally opting to jump out of a window.
His fall was softened by thorny bushes that he always hated, but did not cut down out of respect for his late father. Escaping from them meant opening several deep scratches on his delicate skin, remaining in the background when he recovered the objective of his crazy action.
He scrambled to the lever that moved the drawbridge, pulling it without any chain yielding to his efforts.
Stuck, as always.
He realized that pulling was a waste of time when the huge bridge shattered in front of him, sending him flying by the shockwave. He had the grace to land in the same merciless bushes as before, leaving in a greater hurry so as not to prolong his own torment.
More monsters appeared, knocking down their few remaining knights as if they were blowing dry leaves.
Miria was nowhere to be found.
Did they take her? Did they eat her? What were they doing with her?
His chest had no compassion as it squeezed, tormented by the inconceivable number of grotesque scenarios his imagination created.
In his hands he wielded a flaming sword, invoked by the rage that consumed his rationality. She felt the burning in her palms turning into blisters from holding her without any protection, managing to ignore it by cutting an invading beast into several pieces.
Others followed suit, putting up a fight before falling under their newfound ferocity.
The exhaustion was evident with every blow he thrown, since his body had not been raised with action in priority, and the excessive use of mana slowed his attacks.
His muscles became heavy and his breathing erratic as his mind struggled to stay focused amid the chaos.
The beasts managed to corner him, and he barely managed to get out of that circle of death, piercing the heart of the last wretch at the same time that he tore part of his leg.
I would swear the bone was exposed, but the most concerning thing was the sticky liquid flowing along with his blood. The most likely thing turned out to be poisoning.
Wonderful. His father would be completely proud of him if he found out that he died in his first fight.
He shook his head to scare away his father's voice by tormenting him with lectures about his lack of agility and dexterity, trying not to let his suddenly blurred vision or the sensation of his legs melting get in his way.
There were still living creatures on the battlefield, most of them ending up cremated thanks to the sudden breath of lucidity on the part of the king, who decided to play it safe and shoot fireballs at any individual who approached.
Once he had left the castle grounds and took an inefficient look at the surroundings, he thought he saw a gigantic demon, surely the initiator of all that massacre.
He didn't pay attention to it, becoming more alarmed every second that his friend spent playing hide-and-seek.
And if she had died...?
It would be terrible beyond the sentimental level, since she belonged to the species of the "cursed by the light". Who knows where she would be wreaking havoc.
…
He turned his gaze back to the colossal being that fortunately had his back to him, falling to his knees on the ground when he strained his eyes enough to recognize the symbol of his family marked with fathoms on his back.
Tears streamed down his cheeks as a laugh began the loss of his sanity.
Why?
She didn't deserve something like that. She aspired to light magic to save even the undead, who completely perish when healing magic is exercised on them, and someone murdered her? What kind of feeling being would do it…?
He didn't have to think too much for his stepmother's face to come to her mind.
She sought to give the throne to her own son, so filling him with suffering before finishing him off would not be such a foolish act on her part.
Who knew it would cost her so dearly.
He clenched his jaw as his bad feelings increased, downplaying how his former partner's walk cautiously approached his position.
The golden fire that adorned his new, dragon-like anatomy seamlessly dried the liquid on Rofeil's cheekbones at the same time that his scaly paws stopped before crushing him, even lowering his head until it was at his height.
A shred of hope spread a light smile on his lips, recognizing the pure eyes in which he reflected.
It died out when he perceived the heat accumulating inside her friend's mouth without consciousness.
He thought she had recognized him, but from what he appreciated she only sought to burn him without having to aim. What a cruel way to play with his feelings.
The spark grew and grew, reaching more than enough size to consume without leaving anything of it.
…
No.
He would never allow her to carry the weight of having killed him or everyone in the nearby villages. It must be in there somewhere. He wanted to think that.
With his heart shattering and rational thought escaping from poisoning and bleeding, he tried to give her one of those smiles she loved so much before piercing her head with a sword of water.
What a fool. He would have been spared the moribund next to Miria's changed corpse if only he hadn't forgotten that elemental weapons can be manipulated from a distance.
She would scold him for hours before healing him to make sure he repented.
He didn't regret it either. It was the perfect excuse to stay by her side in his last moments, appreciating the dawn that threatened him from the horizon.
He closed his eyes, relieved that the pain was becoming distant. For the first time in his life he managed to feel the sun's rays without worrying that they would kill him.
He was already dead, after all.
• ──────·•┈ · · ┈•·────── •
This will be a much longer story, and this is just the final episode. However, I decided to participate in the contest because it reminded me a lot of her. Also, this way I could at least advance the last chapter.
Clarifications that might be needed:
- Rofeil's illness:
He suffers from a fictional disease that makes him, in an understandable way, similar to a vampire. He cannot receive direct sunlight or his skin will burn, but he does not need to drink blood. He only needs to stay away from the sun.
- Miria was "cursed by the light." Those who have read my guide on this content will know that members of this species, upon dying, reincarnate as enormous, nearly indestructible monsters in random places. She happened to appear near the castle.
- She had a maternal and confidential relationship with Rofeil, as she was bought as a slave when he was only two years old to care for him after his mother died in childbirth.
- The ending will be changed in the final version.
Black Tulipa
