Eyes of Sin ☾ t.law x reader

Chapter Twenty Three

I am quiet, I bury no one, blood is drying beneath my nails. I do not know which me it belongs to.

Track 23.1: Holding Out for a Hero, Nothing But Thieves
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Blood is the only thing you can taste.

You're standing in an empty, snowy field. A remarkably perfect circle of trees crowds the edges, locking you in with no escape. The sky is as dark as blackened steel, burgeoning clouds threatening another winter storm. The wind's icy fangs hash into your exposed skin, but that isn't what takes your breath away.

Opposite from you on the other end of the clearing, a large mass lies in the snow. You can't tell what it is from here, but gravity draws you closer. Your body begins to burn feverishly hot the longer you hesitate, so your legs move on their own to ease the pain. A few steps in and you can see that whatever it is, it has laid there long enough for the snow to collect. Only a few more and (e/c) blink twice.

It's a black wolf, just like you expected. He's lying curled up in a ball almost statuesquely still despite the rise and fall of his flank with each breath. The wind has vanished and you can't feel your heartbeat anymore. When you're within at least a hundred yards, he finally moves. At first it's just the twitch of his ear but then his head rises from the snow. You freeze in your tracks when his golden eyes lock with yours.

You want to call out to him but the words never make it to your throat. The unending tinge of copper on your tongue gives you goosebumps. He doesn't look familiar at all. On the outside he looks recognizable, but when you stare deeply enough into him, his soul doesn't feel the same. You don't know if what you're feeling is real or not to begin with. Before Yonji ripped you from your home, Law's soul had felt warm and inviting; like an eternal campfire that was made only for you. You relished in that feeling.

You couldn't feel it anymore.

You ached for it, desperately wanting to cry out for it. Every part of you felt colder than ice, yet your limbs still carried you closer to him. When you were within a few paces, you still. He hasn't moved from this position, now appearing as a regally carved rock that was set there ages ago. The snow lands on his head but his ears don't move. You don't want to blink, afraid all of it will end in an instant.

When you're forced to, your fears are brought to life.

The scene has changed. No longer are you in a mystical white field. Instead you're in your backyard, standing next to the rusty playset and facing a shattered sliding glass door. You turn at the sound of voices. It's your friends. Your heart skips a beat when you recognize their faces, but they aren't happy to see you too. They're distracted.

Winfrey rises to her feet. Your stomach churns when you realize that the entirety of her hands is covered in blood. You lock in on where she had just been. There's a body lying underneath the oversized oak that was older than your grandmother. Gizmo moves towards her husband and your legs feel weak.

Thatch is lying in the snow, his head hanging onto his neck by threads.

You move towards them robotically, horrified by the sight of your longtime friend's corpse.

Who did this?

Who could have killed Thatch?

The woods crack to your left. None of your family noticed. You have no time to react when a black blur slams into you and pins you to the ground.

Your hands fly up to protect your face.

Beyond a sharp set of blood-dripping canines was a pair of golden eyes.