▬▬ hollowed deaths, a time after time
FOR SOME MINUTES PASSED, Mykerinos had been wearing himself out running around in search of a hiding place without finding anything promising. If it had simply been a matter of scurrying here and there, he knew his strong physique could have easily carried Thine Highness through. But as he was baffled by time, he suddenly became uncertain just as he was stretching out his hand to unravel the situation, thus he found his mind failing him sooner than his body.
The citadel of Kemi served as the home of kings and their households and was the ceremonial and political center of the clan's government for over 500 years. It was surrounded by numerous opulent imperial gardens and temples, as well as the high city walls. These walls served as both defensive walls and retaining walls for the palace, constructed with a rammed earth core and surfaced with three layers of specially baked bricks on both sides, with the interstices filled with mortar.
The walls were pierced by a gate on each side. And during the dead of the night, all of them were shut close. No one could come in, no one could get out. At the four corners of the wall, sat towers with intricate roofs, dignified by pylons and bead or roll molding.
Truly, Mykerinos must be well-informed by sequences of space and configuration of the paths, yet he was still careful not to harbor attention. But he failed that part. He got out of the palace with the servants and guards' notice. He couldn't help but shrug the uncertainties off; Mykerinos was, nevertheless, had the authority.
Deciding to let the Highness escape could be the permanent solution to the permanent problem the kingdom would be facing. Life after this would be brutal. He still had no idea where he would take you. Perhaps he had a plan or two in his mind, but none of them were feasible enough. What was more important was to escape inside the palace's premises before the sordid news about the dead king would disseminate like a wildfire.
He then only found himself scampering towards the outer court of the palace, the Imperial Garden. He only needed to pass through the garden, it would finally be the northern gate. It didn't matter if there were guards on the defense, his confidence in his fighting ability was dependable.
Not too long when the hunting horns blared in every corner of the citadel. It was a signal; the death of the king must have been found.
A sudden lump was formed in his throat as he felt his lungs stopped working upon hearing it. He then tightened his hold unto you, never letting a thread of space be separated from you.
He kept the rationality in his mind. When it was foolish to dawdle, the courage for escaping in the hands of the moral ethics must be summoned for your survival . . . For his survival.
Just as a storm had finished brewing, heavy rain streamed down on your and his form. He gritted his teeth as his field vision had become vague. He tried to gather himself amidst lightning flashes and thunder roars. It gave him a momentary luminance in the dark surroundings. Having a spatial awareness, thus Mykerinos saw where he would place you whilst planning on how to take down the men guarding the gate.
With another heave of breath, he made his way to the only standing pavilion in the garden—the Serpentine Pavilion. It was made by arranging slates to create a single canopy roof that appeared to emerge from the ground.
He stealthily ran towards the shelter, although thick raindrops were blurring his sights. Once he reached it, he carefully settled you down while having your back reclined on a column. It frustrated him seeing you all battered, having no idea where he would call for help. He could sense how your body faltering, almost bloody. You had a swollen face, cuts to your skin, and bruises in the abdominal area.
He had to take action fast. He had to escape. He couldn't be here any longer, for he didn't know how much time was left on his count, but if he could move as long as he could . . . Dear heavens, how he wished you two would be fine after this high treason.
It was foolish; abandoning everything, even his brother, just for you alone.
With his concealed presence, he ran towards the direction of the guards, moving according to his instincts.
And just like a warrior he was, his body acted on his will. The first guard drew his spear, and Mykerinos attacked him fast. Before the spear could be projected, Mykerinos grabbed his wrist and rendered his whole arm useless. Directing his attention to the second opponent, he shot the poor guard in the head with his knife. He did the same thing to the third man.
When the post was clear, he opened the gate with his own might.
Again, he moved his legs with speed and returned to where you were. He was about to carry you when you stopped him.
Mykerinos was appalled about your sudden dismissal of his help.
"What was it, thine highness?" he breathed his confusion.
He had already found a way to escape, the only thing he had to accomplish was getting you out of this palace safely. Because if you didn't cooperate with him, it would force him to fight this great army with a little chance of survival. He was thankful, for there were no armed men to kill them. Still, he was cautious about his surrounding; the cause of your and his death would just be lurking around the corner.
Escaping was the only answer.
Yet, it was the hardest thing to do.
"Mykerinos shalt not involve thou self from thine sake," you weakly said, eyes were lifeless staring on the ground.
This matter only revolved to you, and you had no intention in dragging him down with you. With your own hand, you killed the king—his very own brother.
"Mykerinos knoweth that thine highness is a horrible person . . . that I shouldest be ashamed by thine unforgivable actions." You kept your head low, avoiding looking at his eyes. If you would look at him, he would see how tears had prickled the corners of your eyes.
It was even contemplating why Mykerinos remained so calm despite the stressful situation. But you also could not hinder the fact that you felt peace in his presence as if a midsummer breeze was brushing against your skin.
"It mattered not," he noted full of warmth. His voice was low, comforting all the tremors in you. Then you felt his kind hand lifting your chin just to meet his soft gaze on you.
The frustration in you was accentuated in your eyes as you allowed to be carried by your emotions. It must be a surprise that you let Mykerinos saw your weak self by wiping your tears with your fingers.
"Is anything wrong with thine highness? Doeth hurt?" Again, his concern was like milk and honey flowing out of his mouth.
"Why showeth compassion for I who art cruel and evil in heart . . ? I am shameless, and mine sins hast soaked the entirety of this city. I feared not the heavens, such a blasphemous being thou art I . . ."
It was atrocious to your perspective. You never anticipated that he would still come to your rescue, despite the treacherous things that besmirched the land he belonged to.
Mykerinos, looking at the drenched loosened hair of the woman drooping down on her petrified face, said, "Save thy troubles for later, thine highness. For now, we shall hurry."
Warding off of your remark, he insisted to carry you.
You shook your head redundantly, sobbing all your frustrations and perplexities. You even taunted in the mind. Hah . . ! You, a human with growing feelings? Such ludicrousness.
"W-Why . . ?" You could not find the right words to weigh the stirring sensation in your head.
Mykerinos had a full grasp of the words you didn't know how to say. You threw incoherent words, thus he linked and put them together.
"Her Highness–" he took her hands and held it tightly– "I couldn't care even the least . . ."
"No, no . . ." you stuttered breathlessly. "You see . . . Thine whole being is a curse. If thine Mykerinos would stay with I . . . I would never measure how surely death would follow unto thee . . ."
All you could do was to deny his good intentions. It was as if you were having a premonition. The images in your mind coalesced into a scene of the vast city stirring everywhere with movement in the midst of great darkness; you saw the citadel—where Mykerinos lived—a single point of light in the seething, anxious throng that struggled blindly through the blackness.
You could not know that even then the little light was being drawn irresistibly into the great soundless whirl of darkness and that you were watching a light that was destined soon to blink out and disappear.
You didn't want that to happen to his country. It was better for him to abandon you to rot and die.
You were meant to die, anyway.
Yet, Mykerinos had persistence, and the intense and dedicated looks in his eyes were convincing and unceasing, never wanting to let you go.
"Whether a curse or not, a sinner and a murderer, deaths or no deaths . . . None of that held value. Just . . . thine highness, wilt thou take my hand?"
It was more than a proposal; it was salvation—your redemption.
But you still had doubts in you.
Do you really want to live?
It was not that you were not afraid of dying, but your instincts would not let you dwell on it. As you shut your eyes to the terror of death, thus you only thought back, and from the beginning, you realized how Mykerinos made you feel the fellowship that existed beyond the limits of these circumstances.
What wilt thine highness accomplish by continuing to live on?
Up until now, you have lived like walking shadows. You often caught yourself asking non-existent questions. What was the reason for your deep distrust of humanity? You discerned the answer right away. It all arrived at it simply by observing your own heart and the cold and dreary world around you with a cool, dispassionate eye.
Then it came so suddenly, a flourishing creed in your chest, like a flame burning and creeping through the mainstreams of your blood.
"All I wanted is to be free . . ."
. . .you muttered the tiny desire in your heart.
Your view of life was firmly confined to the little world where you had spent your life. That made you uncomfortable, and you very much wanted to get settled into a place that would give you life.
And you got to experience that freedom in the wilderness:
Those bright mornings where the light was being filtered through the leaves of the trees;
Cold evenings, very quiet and contemplative;
Golden afternoons, feeling nostalgic and lacking significance;
The lulling calmness of the sunset, where the forest was beginning to fall asleep;
And the mystical midnights where all of the stars were awake just to look how they sparkled on you.
"Thine hast always wanted to be reborn and start a new life . . ."
If you only had a moment to be completely honest about what you feel, this might be the right moment. Then Mykerinos came to erase all your worries, thus you gave all of your trust in him:
Your trust that he would be able to
save you.
You could apprehend that it was faith that you were choosing to live, that something who could save your soul.
You seemed to be pitiful to yourself. You cried, your vision of him blurred for a second, ashamed that you wept over such a cheap and sentimental matter.
"It seemed pleaseth thou fellowship," he said, his voice was quiet, resonant, and mellowed. "Let us thy be reborn and start new lives."
You stared at him full of hope
Then, behold . . ! It only happened so unexpectedly. . . It was as though your sense of time had slowed down in front of your eyes.
An arrow pierced through his throat.
Because Mykerinos was only made out of flesh and blood.
So fragile. So weak. So human.
There was a razor-sharp iron he generally didn't feel until a few seconds after. You seemed to panic at the sight of it, whilst Mykerinos sensed a burning, searing pain and silence in his surroundings. The silence was uncommonly quiet, but very unsettlingly. He was in severe pain as he involuntarily fell on the cold ground on his side, now having difficulty breathing. All he could think about was how nice it would be to feel the morning sun on his face, assuming he made it through the night and escape with you.
"M-Mykerinos . . !"
A high-pitched cry. Oddly, your voice was the only thing he could hear. There was an uneasiness in the Her Highness's tone, and it amused him by the unpredictability and boldness of this human. Mykerinos turned his gazes slowly at you who were trying to free him from his pain. Then he thought that maybe he could talk his way out of this, but the demon was upon him before he could speak. He began to feel a thickness dripping down his throat. There was an arrowhead-deep in his neck. He gasped, struggling at the demon's grasp over his mouth.
He knew it was thine highness's voice. He knew that he was dying, but his subconscious stayed awake.
"Mykerinos, hearken thou not? Can thou open thee eyes?"
Without even thinking, Mykerinos obliged your command. As soon as his eyes fluttered open, your refined face was close to his. You were crying. You were not crying out of pity; it was of anger. Frustration. Fear.
"Mykerinos . . ." you called unto his name with a hoarse, shaky voice. You were caressing his hair with trembling hands, fearing that you might break a very fragile thing. "N-No . . . Please, Mykerinos, no . . ."
As if, your pleads had a value to the eyes of death.
"S-Shhh," he crooked unto her, then he stretched his hand smeared by his blood to your cheeks. "G-Go . . ."
You sobbed, but almost speechless as you implored unto him, "P-Please, please . . . don't die."
It only amused him, despite the fatality of this tragic eventuality.
With his flailing might, he tried to soothe all of your uncertainties.
"Her Highness . . . hath thou forgotten that dying is innate for us? It's . . . time after time."
You only stared at his eased smile. It was, without a shred of doubt, his hallowed face of him would be the last face that would forever mark in your mind. You then held his hand tightly while quivering. You were out of words. Hot tears are all flowing on your cheeks.
"Mykerinos . . ." The word that you could utter.
Then, for the last time, he smiled again. Little by little, his eyes were beginning to close. His heartbeats were about to disappear . . . until there was none. He had fallen still, descending freely at the very bottom of the earth like a torch flickering in the wind.
You only watched him fell asleep into an eternal dream. With a caress on his cheek, your beautiful fellowship, Mykerinos, was rotting away in your arms. It was something cruel and dark, yet it was meant to be.
Eventually, you stood up, still aware of the impending chaos in your midst. You were in the chase. Then, you should really run away. Though you were still in contemplation about leaving Mykerinos in this place. Yet he had given you a leeway; just straight ahead towards the northern gate—your salvation.
You erased all of the dilemmas in your head, and the best way was to run as you navigated your way out.
Fast . . . Faster . . . A little faster . . .
You tried your best to flee at a high pace as possible as you were sensing the army towards your way.
Despite the fear and thrill creeping on your spine, you tried to remain calm. You were about to reach your breaking point as your crushed soul was in deep sorrow.
You heard many of the swooshing arrows from every direction.
They were already here.
Run. Faster.
You didn't mind how muddy and slippery the ground was, all that matter was your survival.
The raining of arrows never stopped. Ten to fifteen persons were hunting you down, based on the sound of their footsteps reflecting on the ground.
A few more. . . Just a little more, you would be able to get away from this dangerous place.
Run . . . Run . . . Run . . .
But you stopped.
In your most unfortunate moment, you felt immense pain in your rib area. You got shot. And because of the strong projectile, you lost your balance. Tripping down, you hit your head to the solid surface.
Groaning and groaning in too much pain; you didn't know what hurt the most.
Even though nothing had gone right, you tried to get up. An arrow had sunk on your flesh . . . Blood was streaming down like water, coloring the cold ground in red.
Soon, you lost your chance; no more running away, for the huntsmen had cornered you. They were armed with a spear pointing at you.
Fight back . . .
It must be the answer. Yet how could you fight back now that you were tired and hopeless? Heavy breathing, piercing pains, and unexplainable frustrations.
They were speaking to you, accusing you of the death of the king. Blood would be repaid by blood, for the wages of sin was death. You knew as you didn't have the strength to deny it.
You only stood up to your feet, silently watching them.
Kill you . . ?
You were already dying.
Leave thy be and die alone.
As if you could care less. A heavy frown tugged on your lips and forced your own to greet the armed men in front of you.
You didn't blink or close your eyes. You somehow wanted to see how would you die.
Now, that was a story—very nostalgic.
"There is none greater in this palace than the king!–" one of the soldiers rebuked you– "Neither hath withheld nothing from thee, because thou art his favored one: how then can you do this great wickedness and sin against gods and this nation?"
Scoffing at the one-sided proclamation of the person, you found it ridiculous that in only a matter of a day and the king had favored you already. It was a lie.
Yet it was the truth that you murdered him and fled forth.
Then the man called unto the fellows of the house, and spake unto them, saying, "See, the king hath shewed compassion unto to this ingrate, yet she hath brought unto us to mock us; she came in unto us and lie, then murdered the king and his brother!"
And so, it happened, when the multitude heard the words of the man, their wrath was kindled. The news about the dead king spread as fast as if a war had been declared! Oh, the awful sense of terror it triggered was similar as well.
The dread was more paralyzing, for people felt helpless at the sudden warning of being defenseless. Two of the royal family members, the most respected ones in town, very powerful, prudent men who had every kind of assistance available that they were only murdered by you.
Only then did the crowd's bewilderment subside and make away for an appropriate reaction: the mouths closed tight, hundred of eyes came alive again. And then, they rang out as if in one voice a thundering cry of rage and revenge:
"Kill her!"
And they set about to storm the outer court, to kill you with their mighty spears and arrows, to tear you apart and scatter the pieces.
Before you could take a breather, completely unaware of the surrounding, a blade ripped through in the middle of your chest!
Again . . .
Pity that it happened again.
The spearhead met your flesh, sinking deeper and deeper, enough to make the victim screamed.
Your skin was torn and the sound of muscles and nerves being gouged was audible. Then, without warning, myriads of arrows were aimed at you until the sturdy metals disappeared inside your body. Guttural chokes were diverse with tormented cries. The woman of accusations, convulsing and trembling, thick blood flowing freely from the yawning holed in your body.
You gasped, making your eyes gawked in disbelief. From your open mouth came gurgling, sputtering sounds. You wanted to cry out for help, to scream your agony and fear to the gods you at first didn't believe, but you could get no volume.
It was its own horror show, that sinister, unforgiving execution. And in it, all stood the butcher, cleaver in hand, aimed a short-handed ax at you. There was a sound of the blade in motion, a sudden pain, your skull split in two. You fell forwards into the ground, the ax stuck on your head, praying for someone to catch your soul.
Your corpse sprawled and stretched out with the most ignominious ways. Then there was that smell of blood, the death stench.
The torrent of the woman's life source gushed out in all directions, crimson liquid squirting without care.
The rain was unforgiving, continuously cascading from the melancholic sky.
The roar of the crowd that was so very loud had even raised their voices more in expectation. They carried their weapons up and high, greeted by the crowd's applause, there was an eruption of downright jubilation.
Soon, when it seemed their triumphant cheers would last no longer without its bursting into a hundred-voiced scream, into a tumult, or a frenzy, above the stillness, they heard the insidious swirl of the wind and the creaking of bones and flesh. It sounded like some kind of a hissing noise or rattling, making a dry, raspy sound.
It came like a force of nature, thus the crowd could not believe what they were hearing, let alone what their eyes could see.
That night, the black and red energy came, gradually being collected to your tattered body. Pile by pile, a river of unending thick and tangible streams radiating on your form. The simmering, writhing crimson drops spread onto your built, every last inch, down to the tips of your fingers, until the weapons that tortured you were discarded out of the flesh and clattered on the solid ground.
You never had a chance to watch how did your body transform, but you had the mere sense of your body healing. Assimilating into the black and red drops, into a form with skin, with flesh, with bone, a form which no doubt a hideous and ungodly thing to look upon.
It seemed like the men forgot how to scream to the horror of what they had witnessed.
Just then the night wind gusted once more, rustling the branches of the garden's trees. Such a sound seemed to be similar to a beast crawling out of the dark crevices of hell. And you escaped under the wings of the crows, you were burning, glowing as if coated in crimson lacquer. The first thing you heard was the frightful gasps of the people. Straining jaws that hurled a long, piercing, and inexpressibly anguished scream out beyond the supernatural occurrence. Another scream followed, and then a third, until they all found themselves crying out with it. For though it had been left tethered back at the citadel of Kemi, what they saw now swirling onto your appearance was a work of the devil.
All around you were the shrieks and the shouts, mixed with the roars of destruction and strings of curses that fit your identity so well; it was overwhelming.
Tumultuous affray. The crowd stands in a circle around you, staring. The woman that had been resurrected, was still lying on the pavement.
What hath happened to thee?
"Curse!"
Why alive?
"Curse!"
Where doeth blasphemous ability come from?
"From the devil!"
They cursed you as a beast in human guise, the one who would bring forth the destruction of Kemi.
"S-She's . . ." one said with gnashing teeth, "She is trying to kill us . . . Thou vile curse hast come to kill us all!"
As prescribed by the law, you were deserving of death.
biTCH FOR FAKEN
THREE MONTHS .
I HAVE FINSHED!
and me so sad for
having no nanami
content at all.
just kill me already
(•́ ‿ ,•̀)
hope y'all enjoyed
this long-ass boring
chapter hahahhaha
oh,
btw it's still nanami month,
so i made this XD
not really good,
but yeah lmaooo
y'all know that
im good at sucking things
esp this daddæ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
HAHAHAHAH MALANDEEEE
only filos will understand
:: HANDTHEIREND ;;