His Corrupted Soul [Witch-King x OC]

Chapter VI : Of Sorrows and Healing

"The soul always knows what to do to heal itself. The challenge is to silence the mind." - Caroline Myss

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|SOUNDTRACK|

Come Back - DYATHON

The Houses of Healing - Return of the King Soundtrack

I Waited for You - DYATHON

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Inconnu was frozen in place, staring wide-eyed and overcome with shock. She couldn't believe, didn't want to believe, the sight before her now.

'What had she done?'

'What had he done?'

Tears spilled from her eyes as he then gasped at the pain that now ran through him. It was then that she found her voice, and she too cried out pain though of a different kind.

"No! Please, not this! No!"

Immediately, she removed Ghosts Song from his chest and tossed the blade aside in favor of catching him as he collapsed to the ground. Together, they fell to their knees as Inconnu held him close to her, sobbing and speaking with a throat that was now raw from the shouting and crying.

"Why do this?! Why do such a thing?!"

Slowly, Er-Murazor lifted his head and noticing this Inconnu raised her head too. Tears streamed down his face as well, the proud Numenorean unashamed of it, and he then weakly lifted the hand that once held the mace to gently push loose strands of her pure white hair from her face. After that, he cupped her chin to make sure she remained looking at him, and he rested his forehead against hers. Her bottom lip quivered, and his thumb traced it as they remained like this for only a few moments, though they seemed to last just a little longer for them as they held onto each other.

Then he said in a heavy, but calm voice, "Lay me down, my heart. I am too weak to remain like this."

A fresh wave of tears trailed down her cheeks, but with a slow nod she laid him down on the ground. His hand now grasped at hers, gripping it as he brought it over to the wound and placed it flat upon it. Inconnu felt blood, living blood, as it seeped that dark red color from between her fingers. He was shaking, his form struggling to continue but she knew that it would soon give out. It had been a mortal blow, and she did not know how to save him.

"Free my soul," Er-Murazor spoke hoarsely, and Inconnu choked on her words as she asked, "Why, when you will soon be lost to me?"

His gauntleted hand gripped hers tighter.

"Please, Inconnu, my heart," He nearly begged her. "Do this for me."

Her head hung low, and after a moment the words came to her between poorly restrained sobs.

"Your soul is your own, Er-Murazor, just... just as my soul is my own," Inconnu choked out, her hand on his chest grasping at his robes, "My soul is yours and with it, I free yours from the corruption."

The Witch-King released a deep sigh, and then the strength in his hand that held hers was gone. Inconnu's head lowered deeply, tears falling down her cheeks and off her chin. Her body shook and her grip on his black robes tightened until her knuckles were white. She had never felt such deep pain before, not even when her mother passed on was the grief this terrible. The Huntress wanted to scream at the Valar and curse Oromë's name for leading her down this path as she stared at the body of the one she had been connected to since Fall of Arnor. This... this was not fair. Anger began to fill her heart, and then it was suddenly silenced by whispered words spoken in the voice of Oromë.