Betrayal Of The Highest

Prologue

October 25, 1764

    Ireland

There were many things to be seen. The plants that grew along the hillside, long been colored by the Gods. The air was salty and cold as she stood by the sea, in the distance she could see a ship moving within the rolling waves. She stood her fist balled to her side, she curled her toes into the damp earth. Earth damp by the blood and the rain. Before she could even hear him, she knew that Paled Eyes was coming up behind. She could hear his breathing, he was having a hard time breathing. He might have a punctured lung from the last battle, he should get help but he came here first. Of course, he would, there was no other reason but the one. "Alanya," he whispered, stopping a foot away from the dark-haired girl. She turned and looked at him. She could see tears forming in his eyes. "I-" He chocked a sob down.

"Are you a man?" She asked him. His eyes were closed. She couldn't look at him, so she was cruel instead. His eyes went wide, but he didn't say anything. "Don't cry." Her voice was soft. "Please." She turned then, her eyes bright as they ever had been. She touched his cheek, her hands are cracked and rough from gripping a sword. A hand-dyed black from dried blood. Blood from her own kind and blood from monsters. He stood there, holding her hand to his cheek. Wishing he could protect her from everything, but she was a being to not be contained. And he knew it was her time to fly among the heavens with the Gods.

"How can I not?" He whispered. "I am to lose my goddess." The wind moved his hair around him, like the rest of him. His hair pale, almost white. A mark of the Death God, only pale eye Warriors carry such mark. "How can any man or human being not cry when the person they love is to leave them?"

"Love..." She mumbled, slowly moving her hand. "What an odd word for you to use." She spoke almost to herself.

"Where will you go?" She bent down towards the ground, digging her hands in the mud. Holding the brown goo up and angling it into the stream of sunlight. "Will you leave me alone in such a place?"

"I will go and I will." She glanced at him. On his cheek she saw a streak of a crusty dark red, his lips were cracked and dry. In one place of his lip was split. All along his bare arms were cuts, some deep or old or new or even all at the same time. She had watched him on the battlefield, destroying those that stood in the way. He was another person then versus now as he stood before her in a torn tunic. Then, just as she was there on a field of gore, he was like a god. A mercifulness god. "I will go where my goddess needs me, perhaps I too will become a god as well."

"I do not like such thoughts." He knelt down in front of her, and she let the mud slip through her thin fingers. "What will I do?"

"Uphold the Law," she whispered truthfully. "Destroy those who attempt to corrupt our ancient ways."

"And be worlds apart from you." He breathed.

"It's not forever, Pale Eyes." She kissed his forehead. She ignored the scent of sweat and death he carried. After all, she carried that stench as well. She zoned out the feel of the dried blood against her lips. She only felt him. "It is silent." She mumbled. "I don't hear their cries any longer." She closed her eyes and stayed still, the wind chilled her back.

"She doesn't need you." He gripped her hand. "I need you."

"You should leave." Her voice was cold and bid a warning, a warning only he could know. His heart seemed to stop.

"Why?" He gripped her wrist, questioning her. "Why can't I stay here? Why can't I?"

"I.." She felt the tears forming. "I don't want you to see."