The forest lingered in that hour when night refuses to die.
Shadows sprawled across the soil like spilled ink, breathing softly with the wind. The bonfire had collapsed into a pit of glowing veins... embers pulsing like the heartbeat of sothing ancient beneath the earth. Smoke drifted upward in thin ribbons, carrying the faint scent of burnt resin and blood.
"No..."
Dasha’s voice trembled like a dying ember. "I can’t... I can’t release you. That would be a betrayal to the tribe, to our people. If I set you free, your replacent will be soone from the tribe... I can’t let that happen. Why should I sacrifice my own people for a heart I never held close? You... you’re just a sacrifice."
Her breaths grew uneven, torn between conviction and grief. Veythor stared at her in silence for a mont... then began to hum.
It wasn’t a lody of comfort, but sothing ancient—like the whistle of death itself, a tune the soul reaper might hum before claiming a soul. The sound slithered through the night air, haunting, hollow. And then... it stopped.
"Dasha," Veythor said softly, "I don’t think I asked for your opinion, your passion, or your love for the tribe. I gave you two simple options."
His voice deepened, each word cutting through the night like a blade.
"First... release . Sacrifice one of your own as my replacent and the tribe survives. Second... kill as you wish. But in doing so, sacrifice yourself and the entire Nagarono."
He finished in a single breath. The words hit Dasha like a slap across the face. Her knees weakened; her thoughts froze. Veythor lifted his gaze to the sky. It had taken on a pale, blushing hue—light pink creeping across the horizon. The moon was gone.
"I assu thirty more minutes before dawn," he murmured inwardly. Outwardly, he smiled.
"Do you know, Dasha... soone once told that every sin you commit will soday co back to bite you... that no matter how far you run, punishnt always finds you. But that’s not entirely true."
His tone softened, almost wistful and heavy.
"As long as a powerful man holds his power, he will never be punished. Only when power is stripped away does justice even try to exist. I’ve seen n die laughing in the face of death unpunished, unrepentant. That’s when I realized: in this world or any other—power reigns above all."
Dasha could only stare. Her lips trembled, but no words ca. She had heard everything and nothing at once. The world around her seed to sneer... the trees whispering mockery, the wind laughing in her ears.
She wanted to scream, to cry, to demand answers.
Who are you? she wanted to ask. You’re just a child... no older than six or eight. Why do you speak like an ancient soul one that has drowned in a sea of tragedy? Just who are you...?
Tears welled up and rolled down her cheeks as she slowly rose to her feet.
Veythor smirked his eyes full of mockery.
"I’ve decided," she said quietly, wiping her tears away.
Veythor’s eyes flickered with sothing unreadable—ambition, perhaps, or the ghost of a feeling long buried.
"Very well," he said with a mocking grin. "So... what did you decide? To take my life... and with it, your own and the tribe’s?"
He chuckled, light and cruel. Dasha looked at him with a strange mixture of despair and fragile hope.
"No," she whispered. "I’ve decided to release you... and save the whole world. To prevent Nagarono’s destruction... I’ll betray the tribe."
Veythor’s grin widened, his eyebrows arching in satisfaction.
"Then what are you waiting for?" he said, voice dripping with quiet delight. "Do it... release ."
She looked down for a long mont, her voice trembling like a fading echo.
"But... how do I release you? You’re bound in chains. The key belongs to Darius... stealing it is impossible. Tell , then... what should I do?"
Veythor’s gaze shifted slowly, resting upon Darius’s sword half-buried in the dirt.
"Dasha," he said, his tone almost tender. "Pick up the sword."
Her breath faltered. She bent down and lifted it, the cold tal glinting faintly under the waning moonlight. Countless thoughts flashed through her mind—none ended well.
"What next?" she asked, her voice barely steady.
Veythor’s eyes narrowed, calculating. "Strike the chain at my feet."
She froze her eyes trembled her heart pounded against her ribs. "I... I’m not strong enough. I’m just a girl."
Veythor almost smiled, the soundless kind that never reached his eyes. "Don’t lie to , Dasha. You wouldn’t have survived this forest if you were weak. Now... do it."
Her hesitation cracked under the weight of his command. The sword ca down... once, twice... the sound splitting the silence like thunder. The chain gave way, sparks scattering like dying stars. Veythor collapsed to the ground with a dull thud. One by one, the shackles fell. The air trembled with the scent of cold iron and freedom. Veythor rose, slow and deliberate. For the first ti, the night didn’t seem so heavy.
Dasha turned her back to him, her eyes dim and unreadable. Sowhere between sorrow and resolve, sothing inside her had gone quiet. He looked at her and almost laughed. Everything’s falling into place, he thought, just as planned. And then without a word... he stepped forward.
His shadow fell over hers, rging under the flickering glow of the dying fire. He reached out, an embrace that felt neither human nor kind... an imitation of tenderness masking the edge of purpose.
She stiffened her eyes fully widened. "You... what... what are you—"
Her question was swallowed by the night. A single motion swift, precise, inevitable. A whisper of steel cut through the dawn’s breath. A fragile gasp. The scent of earth, iron, and morning dew mingled together. Her tears fell before her body did.
Veythor stood still, blood glimring faintly on his hands as if it were nothing more than another shadow. His face betrayed neither guilt nor satisfaction—only the hollow calm of soone who had long stopped expecting forgiveness.
He looked toward the paling horizon. The sky had begun to lighten, soft hues spreading across the edge of the world. For survival, he thought... for power... for the right to keep breathing. And with that, he smiled... a quiet, cold smile that the dawn itself refused to touch.
Reviews
All reviews (0)