Evanescence - One-shot - Prologue

          Harsh coldness was clamped around the young woman’s wrists in the form of manacles and her knees pressed against an uneven stone floor. Her liberty had been stolen, her dignity bruised, and her hope of living on had been quite crushed. Nevertheless, she held her head erect, letting a proud and glorious mane of wheat-colored locks fall to her waist behind her. Not once did she let her blue gaze fall, but she kept her eyes fixed on the grey sky outside.

            Solus, her heart whispered. Solus… my love…

            She did not wish to summon him corporeally with her thoughts; she merely wished to let her mind dwell on him, better on him than on her current fate. Sorrowful though she was, she could recall every one of his features perfectly when she closed her eyes: his sharp facial structure, his razor-edged nose, that purposeful chin, and those clear steel eyes, all set in a graphite face.

            Her soul ached at the thought of never seeing him again. She longed to take hold of his strong hands once more, to stroke that silver-haired head as it rested on her shoulder, to lingeringly feel his lips on hers. This wishful contemplation was interrupted, however, by the sound of the door opening behind her and slow, measured footsteps making their way towards her.

            There was no mistaking who her visitor was. Dread settled in her gut. Even then, however, she did neither lowered her head nor diminished her stature in any way. The only retreating action she allowed herself was the closing of her eyelids. She did not wish to see her captor.

            “Kneeling comfortably, are we, Deirdra?” His deep, grating voice asked from above.

            Hearing his words was enough to fill the young woman with loathing. She kept her eyes shut and her head high.

            A soft hiss of frustration answered her. There was a rustling of fabric and the sharp sound of metal against stone as her jailer knelt in front of her. Leaning against his hooked sword and grasping her chin, he pulled her to face him directly.

            “Look at me, Deirdra!” He commanded with a snarl.

            Upon command, the girl opened her blue eyes and gazed directly into her captor’s. He looked momentarily pleased that she had followed an order, but her next move instantly removed any such expression from his hateful face. She grappled eyes with him fiercely, first the left, then the right. Then, wordless and scornful, she looked away, returning her gaze to the world outside.

            Nettled and indignant, the man gave another hiss as he jerked her chin back towards him. Her eyes landed on him once again and narrowed stubbornly.

            “I grow tired of your scorn, my dear,” he warned. “If you value your existence, you’ll show your king respect.”

            “The moment you become deserving of it and cease ruling as a tyrant, I’ll obey,” she answered softly.

            “Foolish girl!” He snarled, striking her cheek with the back of his hand. “Your insolence is putting you in danger, my dear. Do not tempt me. You are of little use to me now; I will kill you if you dare to test me.” 

            Her mouth opened to contradict him, but then, realizing that she had nothing she might oppose him with, she shut her lips again. Her eyes sought the fading sky beyond the window once more.

            With a victorious smirk, the man stood erect and gazed down at the captive woman at his feet. He studied her face carefully. Her brilliant azure eyes, her soft-looking peach and cream skin, and her small pointed nose were all rather extraordinary to him. She was a creature of color, of flesh and blood, and this alone was foreign to him. But her expression was even more curious. She seemed intensely focused on the sky. With eyebrows pinched upwards and rosy lips pressed tightly, she appeared to be both actively ignoring him, her king, as well as desperately clinging to any hope she might have left. Her eyes sought freedom.

            “You are waiting for him,” he observed, drawing her eyes back towards him. He grinned hatefully. “Be patient. He will come.”

            These words caused a furious glare to erupt in Deirdra’s features.

            “Do you truly believe him to be so stupid?” She demanded, her tone proud. “He knows that this is a trap. Your plans of capturing him rely upon a naivety that does not exist.”

            “Oh, I know he is not so naive,” he assured her. “I am not depending upon his recklessness to bring him here,” he lifted her chin with the blade of his curved sword and smirked dominantly over her. “I’m relying upon his love for you, woman.”

            Had there not been a blade to her throat, she would’ve jerked her face away from him. Had she trusted that he would not strike her down with his weapon, she would have closed her eyes. Instead, she swallowed her regret of being used as bait and stared directly into the tyrant-king’s dark irises. How she hated those eyes.

            Her biting gaze surprised the dark king.

            “You are strong,” he commented. “I see why my adversary has taken a liking to you. You’ve thoroughly surprised me, human.”

            “And what experience have you had with human interaction before now?” She asked sharply.

            He gave a raucous chuckle.

            “Limited experience to be sure,” he responded with a voice as soft as smoke. “And though your insolence has annoyed me to no end, I can appreciate your strength. You possess such a powerful, captivating gaze.”

            He moved to crouch before her again. Lifting a hand to her cheek, he slid it caressingly down her face. His eyes were frightening.

            With a hiss of revulsion, she pulled away from his fingers and struck his masculine hand aside with her manacles as she staggered to her feet. Her soles were bare against the cool stone floor.

            “You dare to play at affection?! With me?” She hissed, her eyes flashing. “As if I would not identify the falsity of your gentle touch!”

            The words were shot at him like poisoned darts, unambiguous and biting.

            He rose to his full height again and watched her warily as she now stood before him, only slightly shorter. His face held none of the gentleness it had expressed only seconds before, nor did it show any signs of being disappointed that his strategy had not worked. There was only a savage sort of raw power and authority in his eyes.

            Though this detestable man before her was just as monochrome as her own darling Solus, it was remarkable just how different the two of them were. In every way which Solus was fair, this man was dark. Where Solus was calm, collected, and self-possessed, the king was completely volatile, like an exposed nerve. His unreserved power was terrifying and destructive.

            Even his appearance was more raw than her lover’s, who often appeared like a shadow, cloaked in fitted, ebony trappings. The king, however, was boldly undressed compared to most warriors, with his brawny torso and arms bare. Despite his relatively attractive physique, upon first sight, one instantly understood that this warrior-king did not dress this way for the purpose of allure. He cared not for such things, unless they suited his tactical needs.

            His cold, black eyes were framed by inky, shoulder-length locks and they betrayed every ounce of cruelty in his heart. Past this transparent fact, however, his gaze was unreadable. Not a single emotion penetrated them unless he intended it.

            Even now, she was completely blind to what he was thinking as he watched her, until he spoke.

            “It is truly curious, the way you continue to fight. I’m stronger, better armed, and far more powerful than you could ever hope to be. Yet, you seem nearly fearless. It is utterly bizarre.”

            Deirdra merely cast a blank stare his way. Of course he couldn’t fathom why she continued to fight; he was cruel and heartless. He had undoubtedly never felt the strength which stemmed from being in love. She lifted her chin defiantly and desperately hoped that she looked as though she might be a woman worthy of her stoic fiancé.

            “You should surrender now, while I am still in the mood to be merciful,” he told her, raising his sword to her chest as he took a step forward.

            “Merciful?! You call yourself merciful?!” She exclaimed, hissing. “Mercy is not in your nature! You keep nothing you do not have immediate use for. Men, soldiers, weapons, citizens, they are all discarded by you the moment you cease to find them useful!” She used the metal of her enslaving cuffs to clash the blade away from her heart. “Keep that sword away from me! You have slain thousands of innocents with that blade! There is blood on your hands you pig-slaughterer! Vandheer Lorde, you are a common butcher!” She spat.

            A growl of rage leapt from the tyrant’s throat as he stepped forward, grasped her restraints, and pulled her closer to his dangerous eyes. The curved blade of his sword pressed against her cheek, glinting and cold.

            “Insolent sack of flesh!” He roared, enraged. “You dare disrespect me?! You dare speak my name?! When will you learn to show me proper respect?!”

            “You know my answer to that,” she answered, rebellion clear in her voice.

            “Do you doubt that I will kill you, Deirdra?” He snarled.

            “Yes,” she answered stoically. “Because you may be certain of one thing, Vandheer Lorde: unless my beloved Solus finds me alive and well, you will not escape his ire. He will avenge me with a rage that exceeds even yours. You are no match for him, king of meat-venders. He will end you, your reign will disintegrate, and the world will be free from your wretched existence once and for all!”

            With a fearsome cry, Vandheer purposefully pulled his sword away from her face, slashing a streaming red line across her cheekbone. Before she even had the chance to cry out because of the pain, he struck her harshly across the new laceration with a furious full-armed swing. She could not catch herself as she fell. Her head made contact with the hard ground and momentarily dulled the flash of fierce pain on her abused face as her skull reeled.

            As she lay, her hair, robe, scarf, and limbs splayed on the ground as though she were no more than a limp doll, Vandheer Lorde stood above her, seething. He paced for a moment, cleaning his blood-splattered fingers on his sash.

            Momentarily blinded and in pain, the young woman shifted to her side and touched her stinging, throbbing cheek. Her fingers came back painted with blood. She looked up at Vandheer from his feet. There was now a touch of fear mixed with the pain in her eyes. The rage fixed in his features terrified her. She knew what this man was capable of when trifled with.

            His bare chest heaved in an attempt to control his anger—which he was actually doing rather well--and he watched the young woman below him as she regarded him fearfully. The alarm in her eyes was enough to curb his immediate rush of fury against her and, instead of striking her again, or threatening her, he merely glared deeply into her sky-dyed irises.

            “Know this, my dear,” he began, unclenching his teeth in order to speak. “If your precious Solus finds you alive and well, it will be because I have either found a use for you, or was unfathomably kind and let you live, not because I fear him. I do not fear the Lone Warrior.” He paused and gazed out through the window at the dying light beyond. “It is a shame that you speak such adamant words and have such powerful hopes of seeing my reign end. For, I will continue to rule for centuries after you and your darling warrior are dead.”

            With this response, Vandheer Lorde turned on his heel and went to exit the room, sending one more biting comment over his shoulder at her.

            “If I were you, I wouldn’t expect any nourishment until the Lone Warrior frees you from this place.”

            With a loud thud of the doors, the king was gone and he left the bleeding woman on the floor.

            Such is the cruelty of Vandheer Lorde, King of Earth.

 

           

            Into the next night, Deirdra sat on her heels in the center of her stone cell. Her eyes were drooping and her strength was wavering. The cut on her cheek was encrusted with dried blood and the flesh around it was tender and blue. One of the ends of her scarf was stiff and dark with blood from where she had pressed it against the wound.

            There were other, younger bruises on her left brow and on her arms. It had amused Vandheer greatly to see the first colorful blotches appear upon her skin after his first assault. Being a colorless creature—whose skin permanently remained an overcast grey—his morbid and sadistic curiosity encouraged him to strike her several more times, painting her with more colors.

            Despite her mistreatment, she hadn’t uttered a single cry of pain. She had sworn not to give him that satisfaction. Again and again, she had crumbled to the stone floor at his merciless hand and she had collapsed mutely every time. And every time she would stand to face him again, her eyes resolute and her lower lip un-trembling.

            But now that she was alone, she allowed her true weakness to show. The beatings she had endured had taken a toll on her body. Her mind wailed, begging for rest, but she would not allow herself to go to sleep just yet. She still gripped tight the hope that he would rescue her, that Solus would come for her. Her stomach groaned in hunger.

            It had been two days since she had eaten anything. It was quite ironic that the strongest thing she felt at the moment was her extreme weakness. Her raw wrists were nowhere near strong enough to lift the heavy manacles around them. A tiny unchecked whimper slipped past her lips.

            She knew that Solus would come for her, she only hoped that she would live to see him.

            An abrupt, jarring clamor of metal clashing against stone interrupted her thoughts. She jolted in fear and sudden alertness as she slowly turned wide eyes to look behind her. An iron bar rolled across the stone floor towards her. Confusion mixed with her fear.

            Then, suddenly, with a grunt, a figure dropped down from the high, barred window and landed in the darkness of the edge of the room. The window was missing a bar; the one currently laying in front of her. A wild hope ignited in her eyes as she searched the darkness.

            A svelte, shadowy, coated figure appeared from the darkness, his hair a beautiful silver and a gleaming katana at his side. Only then did she allow tears to drip down her bruised face.

            “Solus?” She whispered hopefully, her voice hoarse from cries of pain and sorrow she had not let loose.

            “Deirdra…” His voice whispered in response. His voice.

            Desperately, the man raced forward and fell to his knees before her as he gathered her in his arms, clutching her to his chest. The poor weak girl dissolved into salty tears and wished that she could simply melt into his skin, protected, hidden, and—most importantly—always with him.

            She sobbed his name.

            “I’m so sorry, my love,” the beloved warrior breathed contritely. “I shouldn’t have taken so long.”

            “No, I knew you’d come,” she told him, her tears punctuating her words with gasping, quick breaths. “I knew you would. I knew I just had to wait. I just had to—”

            “Hush, my radiant one,” he soothed. “Hush… you’ve been so brave. I should never have let him take you away.”

            “Oh, I’m so relieved to have you with me again, beloved. But you shouldn’t have come,” she pulled away slightly and looked into his moon-silver eyes. “Surely, you must’ve known this is a trap.”

            Abruptly, Solus seemed to notice the state of his bride-to-be’s face and his expression grew concerned.

            “That matters not!” He exclaimed hastily. “Deirdra, you’ve been hurt!” Taking her chin in his hand—quite differently from the last man who had done so—he held her face gently and examined the bloody slash and bruises. “Are you alright? Are you injured anywhere else? Who did this to you?!” He cried out.

            “Love, lower your voice,” she implored, avoiding the question with a soft look in her tear-stained eyes.

            “Deirdra, do not be afraid. Tell me who has abused you,” he told her softly, taking hold of her hands.

            At this movement, she inhaled in a hiss of pain and gripped his strong, masculine fingers. Her raw, blue wrists burning from the unaware motion he had forced upon her.

            “Ah, gently, my love,” she whispered, laying her forehead against his, which was creased with worry. “That is all. Gently.”

            In a moment, Solus had quickly managed to find a means to free her from her restraints. Once the manacles were off, he tenderly kissed her hands and held one of them close to his heart as he bowed his silver head.

            “This is my doing,” Solus lamented. “I’ve done this. If I hadn’t made it known that we planned to be wed, then you would never have been targeted in this horrific blood feud.”

            “Solus… Solus…” She chided softly. “We both new of the danger. We both new of the possibility that others would try to stop us. I love you no less for your decision.”

            The young warrior smiled at his best-girl and kissed her forehead gently.

            “Bless you, dear-heart,” he whispered and stroked her cheek. Then his face became darker again as he viewed her injuries. “Deirdra, who did this to you? Tell me. One of the guards?”

            She pressed his hand against her face as she shook her head.

            “Then who?”

            “Who indeed? Who else might’ve done this?”

            “I need to know. I need to hear it,” he told her, his eyes becoming a bit more angry as he figured who was responsible.

            She pursed her lips tightly for a moment as she swallowed and looked at the floor, appearing almost hesitant to say his name.

            “Vandheer Lorde,” she answered at last, her eyes returning to meet his.

            He hissed and looked up towards the door of her cell, his eyes molten with vengeance.

            “The fiend!” He spat. Suddenly, he returned his gaze to her face and he took it gently in both of his hands. “Deirdra, love, please tell me that this is all he did to you. He didn’t, he wouldn’t dare to touch you. Did he?”

            “No, my love,” she smiled softly, placing a hand on his smooth cheek. “No, he didn’t dare.”

            “Thank God above,” he breathed, pulling her close and holding her against his chest. “Oh, Deirdra, darling. I was terrified for you.” His colorless lips pressed cherishingly against her soft hair. “But we cannot wait, we must flee from this place.”

            “I understand,” she answered courageously, but her eyebrows pinched together in concern, then flinched slightly from the pain. “I only hope that what little strength I have left doesn’t fail me. It has been over two days since I was fed, in response to the… er… insolence I showed the king.” She gave a small grin.

            Her lover chuckled gently at this and leaned his forehead against hers again.

            “You’re my other half, without a doubt,” he whispered. “Now, come. I’ll help you,” he began wrapping an arm around her slender waist. “We will have to escape through the palace.”

            “What of the guards? What of Vandheer?” She asked, complying with his assistance and trying to bear as much of her own weight as possible. “They’ll know we’re fleeing.”

            “All the better,” Solus answered with a growl as he managed to open the cell door with a loud clatter. “I have a score to settle with Vandheer.”

            “Darling! No!” She exclaimed softly. “Let us leave! I don’t want you to fight him!”

            “And run like cowards?” He asked as he aided her to limp down the hall. “That’s not like you.”

            “Please, Solus! I’ve just been reunited with you again! I couldn’t bear it if you were hurt, or worse…”

            “We may not have a choice, Deirdra,” he responded softly.

            Up ahead of them, a door opened and several armed guards rushed out, brandishing deadly swords. Solus instantly pressed his wife-to-be against a nearby wall for protection as well as support and drew his own katana.

            With quick, precise motions, he cut down the four guards. Their physical bodies scattered in the air as they returned to Blackmist. Hastening his movements, Solus took Deirdra by the arm and supported her as he encouraged her to quicken her pace.

            “Hurry, love! The alarm will have sounded by now!”

            “I’m trying!”

            The injured woman gimped along as fast as her weak limbs would allow her. Despite the fact that she was regaining some of her strength due to adrenaline, she was still quite feeble. It wasn’t long before they heard pursuing footsteps and voices behind them.

            “The prisoner has escaped!” Came the call. “Ready your weapons, men!”

            “Solus,” the woman cried out. “They’re in pursuit of us!”

            His hand tightened around hers and he pulled her forward a bit more urgently.

            “We’ll barricade ourselves in the throne room!” He told her. “There’s a hidden exit. We’ll escape through it!”

            “But… the throne room…” She faltered doubtfully.

            “We don’t have a choice.”

            With all her strength concentrated on running and keeping a firm hold of her warrior’s hand, she found that she had no energy to be devoted to arguing with him. So, she ran on at his side.

            After a few more minutes of racing down cold, stone corridors, the large throne-room doors came into view. The two fleeing people pedaled their legs even faster as they heard the sound of a dozen or so guards rapidly approaching from behind them. Deirdra’s strength began to falter and she stumbled slightly, but Solus’ hand kept her on her feet.

            “Just a bit further!” He cried out, moving his hand around her waist for support. “Just a little longer!”

            They reached the door a moment later. Solus—an arm still around her—wrenched the doors open, stepped inside, and forced them closed again. Much to the couple’s chagrin, there did not appear to be any sort of a locking mechanism on the door. Grasping his lady tightly to his side, Solus prepared himself to fight against the multitude of guards the moment they were to break through the doors.

            But, strangely enough, there was naught but silence from the corridor the moment the door was closed. The entry remained shut and there was no sound from the soldiers on the other side.

            Deirdra grew nervous and placed a hand over the Lone Warrior’s shoulder.

            “Why aren’t they coming in?” She whispered.

            An instant later, a hateful voice answered from behind the couple, as if the question had been asked specifically of him.

            “Because they’ve accomplished their task,” Vandheer Lorde’s infuriatingly cold voice answered. “They’ve caught their prize, now they must guard the means of escape.”

            Chiefly surprised and secondarily concerned, the two fugitives spun to face him. He stood in the center of the large room, his stature just as raw, proud, and powerful as ever; except for his face, which was covered entirely by a metal mask. The meaning of his mask was clear, he meant to enter into battle.

            “For shame, my Deirdra,” the tyrant chastised. “Did you forget that this was a trap?”

            “She is not yours, do not make such casual pretence that she is!” Solus growled, holding the young woman close.

            “And she is yours, I suppose?” The masked man scoffed. “You really are obsessed with this human. I couldn’t quite bring myself to believe it when I first heard the rumor. The Lone Warrior? And some human wench? Such a taboo was not to be believed. It was unthinkable that you would choose to mate with such an inferior species.”

            “You foul beast! You know nothing of Deirdra! She is stronger than many a Blackmist man I’ve met.” At this, the girl in question blushed. “You dare to speak of our love when you do not even understand the concept of such an emotion yourself?”

            “True, I know nothing of love,” Vandheer answered. “Nor do I care anything for it. But I will admit,” his voice had a smiling tone in it, “Deirdra surprised me. She was of much greater use than I originally anticipated. Her help was invaluable in getting you to enter so blindly into my trap.”

            “My choice wasn’t blind, you fool,” the young warrior responded. “Do not play me for a simpleton!”

            “Why ever not?” He laughed. “You and your human are at my mercy. My plan has been executed perfectly! It has been ever so amusing, the whole process. Now, Lone Warrior, are you going to fight me? I know you wish to.”

            Solus gritted his teeth and fiddled with the sword in his hand, his armed remained tight around his fiancé as she held firm to him. He was silent.

            “Oh, come now. Must I motivate you?” Vandheer’s voice was crimped in annoyance, but it continued as though it were passing through grinning lips. “You know, Deirdra was so brave, so stoic. Though I tortured and starved her, she never could stoop to begging me. Even when my steel bit into her face, she was proud and silent. She has endured much for your sake, yet you will not even fight for the one you claim to love.”

            At these words, Solus flew at Vandheer, leaving the girl to stand on her own. Wielding his katana, the Lone Warrior mercilessly attacked the tyrant king. His anger showed in his eyes.

            “No! Stop Solus!” Deirdra cried. “You mustn’t! Not now, Solus! Vandheer! Please stop!”

            “Your lover makes a desperate plea, Solus,” Vandheer sneered as he grappled swords with the young man. “You know, I think I understand a bit of why you might want a human female around.” His voice was hard and cruel. “The way their colors bloom and intensify when you strike them is most… amusing.”

            At this, Solus increased his furious attacks with a fearsome cry. Deirdra watched in horror as her warrior attacked the king of Earth, the two of them engaged in a furious, deadly bout. Tears began to stream down her face as she watched her fiancé endangering his life for her. She was so terrified that he would be injured, or worse.

            But should she feel ashamed? Was she being selfish by wanting him not to fight the king? After all, if Vandheer were to be killed, then the world would be free of his diabolical power. That was what both she and Solus had been fighting for, was it not? She looked at the two men locked in the melee.

            They dealt blows to each other, though none of them were blade-wounds. Solus’ face was grim and angry. He was avenging her mistreatment, but—much to her horror—she saw that his mind was clouded. And Vandheer’s taunts, punctuated by clashing metal, only served to heighten the warrior’s protective frenzy.

            “Keep in mind, Warrior, unless you decide to win this battle, I might be interested in keeping her for myself.” The king stated, darting his helmeted head in Deirdra’s direction. “Humans are rare nowadays, and despite their evanescence, they make such fascinating pets… and are ever so much fun to play with.”

            The warrior let loose a bellow and attacked again with a fearful fervor. His weapon and body seemed to blur as he clashed swords with the king again and again, the two of them engaged in a deadly flurry.

            “You’ll do no such thing! You monster!” Solus growled. “I’ll kill you before I’ll let you harm her again!”

            “Let your sword speak for you, whelp!” Vandheer taunted.

            No.

            Deirdra couldn’t let Solus continue fighting this way. He was a warrior of the most elite. She had to help him refocus his skills. The world was counting on him. She couldn’t fight Vandheer herself—even when she was in the best of health—but she could support her beloved, she could carry his heart for him.

            “Solus,” Deirdra’s voice cut through the clamor of battle, though she spoke softly. “Do not attack blindly! Fight for those who cannot. Free the world from this unworthy king! You are my warrior! Do not give into his lure of rage!”

            In a sudden burst of earnestness, Solus managed to gain the upper hand, concentrating on fighting the tyrant before him for the honor of his lady and the liberty of the whole world. His attacks becoming more precise, he practically reduced the air before them to tatters with his deliberate strikes. He caught Vandheer off balance, once, twice, then attempted to cleave him high into the air with a powerful blow. Caught off guard, the king narrowly avoided being bisected by stumbling backwards.

            They stood there for a moment, several paces apart. Vandheer was winded and he regarded his opponent with a wary stance. Solus stood resolutely and tall, his silver hair falling against his black cloak. His eyes were steel; in that moment he was an emperor among warriors. Vandheer shrank back from him slightly and his firm face faltered behind his mask. He could not win, this he knew. Not when a fire like the one lit in the Lone Warrior’s eyes was against him. His eyes flickered over to the fair, but battered woman standing behind his opponent.

            He couldn’t beat him, but he could break him.

            Using one of his reserved powers, he phased away from his position in front of the warrior, disappearing into blackness.

            Both Solus and Deirdra’s hearts fell in dismay. Had he just fled?

            Their questions were both answered a moment later when Deirdra felt a fearfully strong, masculine physique clutch her to a bare chest. A hand gripped the front of her throat and another pressed the lethal point of a sword against her side. Crying out in pain and horrid surprise, she caused Solus to face her abruptly.

            “No!” He cried, his resolve gone and his eyes desperate once more. He took a single jarring step forward as if he intended to run towards them, but he stopped out of fear that Vandheer would harm her.

            “Release me, Vandheer Lorde!” She whispered. She had originally intended for her voice to sound far more authoritative than the way it had escaped her lips.

            He held her fast and she felt the side of his metal mask press against her head painfully as she struggled.

            “Vandheer,” Solus sounded frightened and that fact shook the restrained woman to the core. “Please, let her go. She is not part of our fight.”

            “You simpleton, you hypocrite,” the king snarled in return, his voice rough and grating through his mask. “Of course she is! Would you not exploit any weakness of mine if you could find it? Would you not use it to bring me to my knees? I used her to bring you here; she is an integrated part of our battle. It’s a shame that our colorful little bird is so feeble,” he hissed in her ear.

            “Vandheer Lorde,” Deirdra trembled, trying to make him see reason. “Do you think that this will bring you happiness? Will the submission of the world fill your desire?”

            “Well,” he purred deeply beside her face. “It’s a start.” Lifting his face to the white-faced warrior watching them, he pulled the woman backwards with him as he wielded his sword at the man. “You are a fool to bare such weaknesses to the world, Lone Warrior.” He jostled the weakness in his arms for show. “It will only ever assist me in defeating you again and again.”

            Nearing the throne in the heart of the room, Vandheer struck out with a powerful leg and kicked it. As the tyrant king toppled his own throne, revealing an escape, Solus ran forward several steps towards the man holding his beloved. He was forced to stop in his tracks however, as the sword’s cruel-looking edge returned to her side.

            “No closer, Lone Warrior,” he warned. “Not a step.” He lowered his voice to a growl. “Know that this is on your own head, Solus Lothar. Know that had you not so foolishly proclaimed your pathetic love for this woman, this would never have happened.” Solus’ heart raced in fear and he stumbled a half step forward, fearing what was to come next. The king then lowered his head beside the girl’s face and spoke softly, his tone edged with cold cruelty. “Do not think that I did not appreciate you, my dear. For a human, you are quite captivating. And now I shall spare you from all future pain.”

            Vandheer’s sword plunged, blood ran, and a soundless scream of pain opened Deirdra’s mouth for her as her eyes went wide. Infinity seemed to shatter as all sounds were drowned in her ears by the beating of her own heart. She felt herself slip from the sword and crumble to the cold, strangely wet, stone floor. Liquid fire was erupting in her stomach and she could hear Solus screaming, though it sounded far, far away. Vandheer was gone, having fled the moment he had removed her from his sword.

            Familiar arms lifted her upper-half from the floor and cradled her. Her eyes drifted up to the face above her and she wanted to smile, but the pain blossoming in her gut and in her back refused to allow for anything but torment. Oh! The pain! The mortal pain! Tears ran from her eyes instead. She wanted so badly to seem strong, unafraid for Solus, but—truthfully—she was scared, terrified.

            Sound clashed against her ears once again and she became aware that her breath was rattling out in loud, shuddering gasps. The blood rushing and thudding in her ears, sounded like a river. Looking down, she saw the “river” leaving her in torrents. Her face was pulled upwards again by the sound of her beloved’s fear-filled voice.

            “Deirdra! Deirdra! My love!” He cried, tears beginning to mingle with hers as her beautiful eyes began to fade. “Look at me! Don’t you dare slip from me!”

            Her trembling fingers, which had been clutching her sword-bite, reached out to him. The softest of whimpers left her lips and caused his Blackmist heart to crumble as he took her blood-drenched fingers in his.

            “Darling…” He wept. “Dear, brave-heart…” He bowed his silver head, letting the sterling strands caress her face. “This is all my doing… I am to blame for this… this… slaughter.” One of his tears fell on her cheek. “You don’t deserve this.”

            Slowly, gently, by some miracle of God, Deirdra’s pain began to fade. She was losing her grip on this mortal coil, she could feel it. A strange sense of peace and sorrowful affection flooded her soul and she found herself able to speak.

            “Solus, my warrior,” she whispered, her voice as soft as a breeze. “You mustn’t blame yourself for this... This was my choice. This was always meant to happen... You must learn to let me go.”

            “But… Deirdra, I would have spent my life with you…” He cried. “You are the only thing that kept me strong. How can you expect me to ever let you go?”

            “Even in death, I can carry your heart for you, my love,” she told him, a trickle of blood running from the corner of her paling lips. “Our souls will meet again someday, Solus. Have faith…”

            “Faith? In what? Hope? My hope will die with you!”

            “Solus,” she reprimanded. “I forbid it. The world still needs you. You must not be selfish. Please, for me, Solus. Vandheer…” She coughed and her eyes began to fade rapidly. “He must be stopped… Courage, my love… Take courage. Free the world from him… I shall meet you again one day, don’t doubt it.”

            Her long-desired smile showed itself timidly.

            “I love you,” he wept, his very breath trembling. He stroked her cheek. “So much… my lonely darling.”

            “And I you.”

            There was a crumbling silence between them as the woman’s mid-afternoon sky eyes drifted closed. The sound of her shallow breaths ceased soon after and she fell still in his arms. He felt as though his heart stumbled for a moment. He couldn’t grasp it, the shock was too great.

            “No…” He sobbed unashamedly, the heavy truth settling into his heart. “No… No. No. NO!”

            Clutching her limp, lifeless body to his chest, he mourned into her soft, still-warm hair. He inhaled her scent, trying desperately to steal more time for her. He prayed for her to stir in his arms, for her to take another breath, but nothing came.

            This was so wrong. It was a sin, an abomination, to Solus that a woman with so much strength and so much life within her to be hollowed and left as an empty shell. Her sky-deep eyes should be open, not closed.

            After a moment of his gut-wrenching lament, he reached out and gathered her discarded form in his arms in order to stand. Once he had staggered to his feet, he looked to the dark ceiling of the room he was in. His eyes were reddened with tears and his visage was full of rage. He trembled in loss and fury.

            “I WILL SLAY YOU, VANDHEER LORDE!”

 

 

 

 

 

Brief Epilogue:

 

            The day of Deirdra’s funeral, Solus walked away from his comrades and the funeral pyre, his sword drawn and a dark red scarf around his neck. Upon being asked where it was he was going, the Lone Warrior simply replied, “To hunt down my bride’s killer until either his life or mine is utterly spent.”