VALORIA WILDEROSE
"P-p-plea-ase..." my voice cracks more than usual, heavy with desperation.
"What was that?" he taunts, laughter in his voice.
I swallow what little pride I had left.
"P-please, I’m s-sorr-ry."
Pride doesn’t keep you alive.
"Where’s all that spunk from last night gone? I was looking forward to this lasting longer." He sighs with sudden disappointnt, amused with everything.
Fueling the resentnt that sinks deep into my core with every mockery he offers , I bite my tongue, refusing to say another word.
I’ve given him what he wants—the cowering and fear he so desires—so today’s ga should be over.
"As much as I enjoy shattering you, it will be in your best interest not to break so soon," he adds. "I still have so much more in store for you. Like your other present."
"O-Other p-present?" I look at him, confused.
He passes a knowing look paired with a sinister grin.
"Didn’t you hear? Everyone’s saying the king has his eyes on a special new concubine," he says, sothing abnormal in his tone, hinting at gossip he shouldn’t even know, calling it his "other present" to .
I stare until I fix the pieces together, doubting it even after I’ve realized it.
"Y-You d-did that? W-Why?"
"I don’t know..." he shrugs casually, hands sliding into his pockets. "Much like archery, I enjoy painting a target red and watching which of my arrows is fast and sharp enough to cut right into it. You understand what I an?"
At first, I don’t, staring into his eyes, trying to figure out how it ties together until the realization slowly settles like heavy weights.
I’m forced to recall a mory from many years ago, when I had found a small white bunny and made it my pet.
It used to follow around until my sister found out and thought it was cute too. They all tried to feed it, but it ate nothing from them—only .
Their desire for it turned into a weapon they used to tornt for weeks, starving until they finally served it to as dinner.
My confused gaze turns horrified. He chuckles out loud, recognizing my understanding.
And then I make the mistake of dropping my guard.
The arrow loaded in my hands is let go on accident, rippling through the air. It cuts right through one of the bagged n, striking where his heart should be.
He lets out a grunt of pain before falling backward.
A second of stone-cold silence passes between us before my hands drop down to my sides. I’m petrified and breathless, horrified.
"Oops," he chuckles lowly from behind . It starts out soft before turning into another manic outburst.
My ears ring loudly, drowning out all sound around , until he’s rely an echo in the background, and all I can focus on is the bleeding man, wounded by the arrow I held.
Dying...
I killed him...
I killed a man.
With my heart pounding loudly in my ears, I rush forward, falling on my knees beside the body, shaking and too guilt-ridden to touch it.
A slight twitch of his body confirms that he’s still alive, and I let myself breathe again, crying harder than I ever have, shaking like a leaf in the wind.
I didn’t kill him.
Thank the goddess I didn’t.
The arrow must have missed his heart by so lucky miracle.
"I’m sorry," I beg this barely conscious person.
"What are you sorry for?"
Azrael is behind again, and I notice. My relieved body tenses up again, and I look up to et him. He pulls up, holding roughly against himself.
I had almost killed a man because of him.
He was about to make a murderer on purpose, knowing I’d never be able to live with myself, and it would eat forever from the inside.
He toyed with perfectly.
I’m more scared, finally understanding who this man in front of is—nothing like what Calliope described; rather, he is everything he was rumored to be, and worse.
"That’s it... that’s the face I wanted to see." He watches with twisted delight.
I hold his eyes for the first ti without a hint of fear—rather, hate, disgust, resentnt, searing hotter than any feeling I’ve ever felt.
"You’re a m-m-monster," I whisper lowly, my voice trembling with emotion.
Sothing on him cracks, only for a mont.
His smile fades slowly to dissatisfaction before he roughly lets go, and I stagger away from him, displeased by my reaction.
In place of fear, he ets reinforced hatred and resolve.
He scoffs suddenly, evidently irritated.
"I haven’t even begun to unleash a quarter of what I have in store for you—not even the fate I reserve for spies bold enough to enter my wall," he growls—a threat ant to terrify back into fear.
But at this point, I’ve seen worse than he can throw.
"I’m n-not sc-cared of y-you." There are worse things than his torturous gas, like dying over and over again for millennia.
He reads with his gaze. His left eye twitches; flashes of rage splatter across his face before tapering into sothing else entirely.
"You should be," he spits suddenly, viciously.
And then, without ti to register what he ans, he raises his foot high, crushing down on the man’s neck right in front of , letting out a sickening crack.
His struggle cos to a fatal end once his neck snaps, and he croaks, his movent halting as he breathes his last breath.
"NO!" I scream, forced to witness the grueso end, moved so deeply by one man’s death even though I never knew him or his face.
"Heed my warning," he speaks with venom in his voice, an anger I witness for the first ti since eting him that is truly terrifying. "You should, in fact, fear more than your goddess, more than death itself."
Reviews
All reviews (0)