Heavens Whisper | K.TH

Dance of Death

WHITE

"What?!"

A shocked scream bursts from my lips as he suddenly lunges, another knife clutched in his own hands. Reflex throws me to the side, my heart racing as the rush of a weapon slices the spot where my head had been a second earlier.

Is he actually—

A yelp rips from my throat as he drives his knife into the wall, inches from my shoulder. I leap away, adrenaline pouring through my blood.

He's serious.

Holy heck, he's serious.

In the split second where he wrestles his knife from the wall, I jump at him and slash downwards.

But my attack is more of a flail than an actual slash, and my hand burns with agony when it touches his shoulder. I barely have time to throw myself to the ground as he cuts through the air.

Within another second, he has me pinned to the ground, knife pressed the lightest against my throat.

My chest rises and falls violently.

"Good, demoiselle." He says, with a hint of surprise in his icy voice. "You may not be completely hopeless yet."

"Thanks for thinking that I was." I hiss, furious at him for the honest attacks. "And thanks for actually trying to kill me."

"If I wanted to kill you, then I would've done it a long time ago."

And then he shivers.

His body suddenly spasms, and my eyes widen in surprise as his composed expression spins out control. Pushing off of me viciously, he stumbles back, features twisted.

"......V?"

"Out." He hisses, and I swallow when I see his burns, glowing like brands. When he sees me still there, frozen with shock, he roars.

"I said leave!"

Spinning on my heel, I rush out the door and slam it shut behind me, breaths rapid. My back presses tight against the closed door.

The hallway is quiet.

His burns— they had been glowing. Was that the Empress' Blessing? To hurt someone continuously over time?

I wait for what seems to be like an eternity before finally taking in a deep breath. When everything seems still around me, I turn back and quietly twist the doorknob open.

My mentor is completely knocked unconscious on the bed. He's now wearing just a thin shirt on top, black turtleneck lying in a pile on the ground.

The marks had stopped glowing.

Sucking in a breath, I step closer to him  until I get close enough. He's shivering, face tilted up to the ceiling.

How could I be angry at someone like this?

Pulling my weak Blessing together, I brace for the sharp slash of pain as I touch his neck.

But there's nothing.

The only thing I feel is a dull tingle, the smooth cold of his skin. The shock slowly melts away as I finally take off my hand, worried at how fast my energy seemed to just drain out of me.