The Fading Light (#Wattys2015)
His sword drips with blood, splatters of it on the palace floor. The messenger holding the sword is silent, his eyes turned downward. I can hear sobbing behind me, but I do not comprehend it.
"Dead." A sob catches within my throat. No, it cannot be true.
The servant lifts his eyes to view me. His face transforms, the eyes turning to a demonic obsidian. "Oh, but it is true, lovely... And there's no one to prevent your being mine..." His brilliant white teeth make his smile all the more evil. He steps toward me and touches his hand to my cheek. "I told you it would happen this way." Pushing him away, I spot a body, bloodied and bruised. I try to whisper his name but I cannot. I try to tear myself away but am unable to.
It is him. And I did nothing to prevent it.
Omens of our demise. Dreams that haunt and the fading light of candles for the dead and dying. Is this where fairytales start? Or where they end?
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