Rosalind - Amby Awards 2023 TOP PICK

79- Requiem (part 1)

The shadows slithered on the walls and cast hollows of darkness wherever they touched. They reached for the light yet their place was in the abyss.

Standing in the middle of her room, Rosalind watched them move serpentine. She felt no fear, not anymore. Darkness had become a part of her and as the shadows reached for the light outside, her personal darkness reached for the fragments of light left within her.

Outside, the night became electrified. A beast of green and yellow slashed the blackness of the sky highlighting the forest outside her window in bright illuminations.

Remnants of both the Dragons Tongue and Ashes of Angels rested on her bedside table. Among the dried petals and powder sat the butterfly broach Caspian had gifted her before she had left. Rosalind picked it up and pinned it to the black dress – the dress that a month ago had expelled a frown from Agnes, the long, inky dress that looked like it was made for a funeral. Rosalind smoothed down the hem. Nestled in the bodice was her blade. Next to her heart, it sang a requiem.

Her hair hung over her shoulders, there were dark rings around her eyes. She had barely slept. Troy's bloody back haunted her. She had spent hours with him, holding him, kissing him, telling him she would put the wrong things right. She felt a blinding rage for Caspian yet at the same time she knew she would never truly stop wanting him. He had become the drug inside her which ran in her blood and gave her life.

When the shadows saw her hesitating they crept to her. Like creatures of the night, they crawled on all fours. Skinny, skeletal frames draped in mist. From the corner of her room, the phantom woman fixed her gaze on Rosalind. Unmoving, critical, the phantom woman crossed her arms over her chest as the arms of the dead are situated once they are placed in their coffins. Blood tears fell from the woman's pallid cheeks. "You and he are stronger than death," she said gravely.

Hearing the sallow sound, Rosalind looked over her shoulder and glared at the crying phantom. "He deserves to die," she said bitterly.

As Rosalind stormed out of her room, the phantom woman watched her go.

Shutting the door, Rosalind could have sworn she heard the woman whispering in her mind, "As long as he is inside you, he will never die. Even death will not sever this connection."

Rosalind did not know how she would kill Caspian. Every breath she took thumped along the blade reminding her that she could not turn back.

The shadows from her room followed her in the hall and fell at her feet, pleading, whimpering, begging for her to turn back. With each step she took, Rosalind heard bone crunch underfoot and felt slimy viscera squish under her boots. When she paused and looked back, she saw a trail of broken shadows. A carpet of death. Not one of them moved. There was no more pleading, no more sound. Pain stabbed at Rosalind. For a long, aching moment, she wondered what it would be like to stab her own heart instead but the sight of Troy's whip marks and Lilly's words urged her on. Rosalind knew Transylvania was dying. That Troy was dying. If she did nothing then a slow, consistent death would come to her younger lover until it left nothing of him but shadow, slime and bone.

As Rosalind neared the lord's chamber, she willed her thundering heart to calm down. When she touched her palms to his door, a dull sound of some horrid beast in pain came over her. The noise made Rosalind shiver. Never had she heard such anguish. It took her a moment to realize it was her who was making those pained sounds. "My beloved monster," she whispered between the horrid sound. "Loving you was the best and worst thing I ever did."

Settling her breathing, she waited until the hall became silent. Then Rosalind turned the handle of the door and entered Caspian's bedroom.