Ruin and Revival

Chapter 56: Decapitated

COLE

I stroll through the battlegrounds, tents filled with the injured and the ill littered across the muddy field. Grief and loss wash over me and I let it remind me that I am still human, that I am still capable of feeling.

"Another defeat General." I flinch at his tone, at that familiar glance of disapproval that those dreadful purple eyes constantly showed.

"WE CAN NOT LOSE AGAIN!" My tongue goes dry, but I stand my ground despite every instinct telling me to high tail the other direction.

"I understand. It will not happen again. We are training soldiers with those gloves at this very moment. We will have an army to match Aquaria's in no time." I force myself to poise utterly still as Berthold's eyes bore into my very soul, like a parasite burrowing through its host.

"Cole, be honest. Do you ever want to betray me?" Sweat dampens my hair, my palms as he gazes at me unyieldingly.

"No, sir."

"And why is that?"

"Because this is my country and I will serve it proudly until I can no more." Because you will kill Kamilia. My hands involuntarily ball into fists, fists that have knocked many within a few inches of death.

"Dismissed." Berthold waves me off like I am nothing more than a buzzing gnat. Today, it is especially challenging to justify why I am still here when Aquaria promised a better, more secure future for the world. However, Berthold had begun to notice my hesitation during battle and he had threatened Kamilia's life. And she is my everything, my only support system. When no one else could even spare a minute to listen to how I felt, she did and more. She gave me strength when I had none and gave me compassion when I was at my lowest. No, I could never betray her like that.

I take my time as I walk towards my tent. A few soldiers nod in my direction, their backs immediately straightening in respect. I smile at their acknowledgment, suppressing the constant guilt that came in the form of a voice that would never stop talking. You are fighting on the wrong side, I want to scream at every soldier I see so, so bad. I plop down on a bench at the outskirts of the camp, watching the empty sky, the meaningless stars. I lose a part of myself with each battle, with each kill. I am responsible for countless deaths now, their faces no longer fitting on the black canvas of the night. But in the face of death, they were all united by fear, fear like no other.

I sigh as my attempt to find the magic hidden in the vault of the heavens is fruitless. How I used to see the stories of yonder come alive The trek back to my tent is a peculiar sort of serene, like I could finally come to terms with what I had cast away, but also what I had gained.

But the sight I see when I opened the flaps of that accursed tent eradicates any peace I had found to a smothering pile of sorry ashes.

"What the hell is going on?" There lay my Kamilia with another man, her nudity obscured under the layers of blankets, hiding her infidelity and his treachery. I didn't process it, didn't dare to because I knew nothing would keep me from slowly ripping that man's head off. So I just stand there, absolutely frozen.

"Get out." The man scrambles for his clothes, his lean body moving with hurried panic. I step in his way, blocking the path to his clothes.

"Get out." I point to the exit. He points to his clothes.

"Get out before I give you and your sorry ass a slow, painful death." He has the sense to sprint out, utterly naked and mortified.

"Why?" Kamilia lowers her hazel green eyes in shame, her shoulders slumped as she wraps the blanket around her graceful shoulders.

"I can explain-"
"No, I don't want to hear it. I am leaving. I am done with you and this twisted army. You can all go rot in hell and I will make sure of it." I switch on my glove.

The moment I step out of the tent, I realize it is a trap. My glove is no use as dozens of armed men pounce on me, pinning my limbs to the ground, before injecting me with a bizarre orange substance. All feeling is lost in my arms and legs yet my mind is clear and roaring, hungry for blood, for something to satiate the demon inside me. The soldiers lift me up, tying my wrists and ankles, my head hanging, grateful for the paralysis as it conceals the tears sliding out of my eyes. I hear the gentle steps, the scent that I had grown to love. Arms embrace me tightly and hands lift my chin up until all I can see is infinite sorrow and remorse in the windows of Kamilia's soul.

"I love you. But I love my country more. And for that, I am so sorry." All I can do is watch her broken silhouette as they drag me away, tie me to a wooden post, and leave me there to decay into nothingness.

The sun beats down on me, my wrists raw and bleeding from the rough rope. My head spins with thirst and delirium. My stomach growls monstrously and I yearn for anything, even porridge. There is nothing left to live for. It is your time to die.

"Then let me die! Please!" I beg like a child begging for candy. I struggle violently against my restraints, hoping to waste energy until I can finally die of thirst.

On the second day, a figure emerges from the mirage of swirling sand. I lay limply on the ground, sand seeping into every corner of my body until it is all I know. Sand and heat and sand and heat...

"Come to gloat." My throat is parched and sore from screaming until I tasted blood, from the lack of liquids in my body. But I keep my face cool and confident, ever the fine general.

"I've come to tell you that Kamilia was captured on a mission by Aquaria. And they decapitated her." Berthold drops the canvas sack on the desert floor, the eery thud muted by the sand. Utter shock settles deep in my stomach. My thoughts become fuzzy and my lungs fail me.

As I see the head roll out of the opening, as I see her wide, sunken eyes and swollen blue lips, something within me switches off.

And I know it will never switch on again.