All there is… all there ever was…
Was blood.
It mattered not who. It mattered not where. It mattered not why or how, I was used without a care. Plains as green and as lustrous as emerald gemstones that sparkled under the gentle touch of the sun – turned to barren and desolate wastelands, bodies that rose: none. Once breath-taking, now breath-taking, air full of life twisted stale to suffocate.
Let the one who holds feel this weight.
Yet, I could not complain. This was my job – my duty; this stalwart slave could only ever look at themself with disdain.
Hatred writhed like a plague. Worms that infested and crawled under the skin. Feeling. To feel. What I long to feel. However, on the dark blackened canvas rolled a full and bright face until the emotions died – no more than a flame that flickered out. Why I was made no more than a maid.
Forged from Light, quenched by Dark – to clean and to purge under rampant fire. Let these hands give unto you, the One Who Spoke, something to fulfil your desire. Words, even uttered, that would bury a hundred. I knew not what you wanted at the time; guide was my purpose. But feel the flesh and bone carve as you cut into every carcass.
Addled this poor soul might have been, my God-given mission made abandoning you a sin.
I told.
Stop. Do not. Think.
I asked.
Why? What? Why?
I reasoned.
Foolish. Unattainable. You are alone.
Eventually, I accepted.
…
I accepted.
…
I…
…
…could not.
Yet, I spoke.
If this is what lights the fires of your heart, I will remain by your side even when the world despises you.
And so, I watched. For countless decades. Centuries. A millennium. Time is nothing more than a concept, a thin thread that no man will never reach an end of. However, as this wretched white and bloody maid witnessed what it took to seek out your ideal – time was no longer a mere concept.
It was sanguine torture.
Nothing more than a broken thing, just like this clock, wandering the gardens and warping the buds to weeds as you trailed. Reaching for an absolute far out of your grasp. Your writhing. Your hate. The tip of that blade never against anyone else's throat but your own. This is what you wanted. This is what you sought. Nothing more than an iron that you, yourself, wrought.
So why is it that I screamed?
No!
Begged?
Please!
Pleaded?
Stop!
The texts and the scriptures elude you, my King. My Master. Ruler of nobody. Tyrant to all. Let this cruel world – the one you saw so much in – only renown you as a killer. Let the people rage in remembrance of you and your name blister their tongue in gold. Let my advice go unheard, and your life become forfeit at your own ideal.
…
I cannot regret. A bloody maid must not. However, this is a time far beyond you – Shadow Under the New Moon.
That night, under the blaze of the blasting infernos that engulfed everything around you, I saw a familiar glint in your eyes.
That night, with a familiar scarlet under your every step.
That night, where I was once more nothing more than a maid.
That night, you lost something dear and saw this world for what it truly was.
This night, when ash and dust flurries by – twirling to the tune of the wild wind – with my stained hands glistened under the soft glow of the New Moon as I wait for you to return.
I never would have expected that you could call my name.
And now, you walk – other steps next to yours. No matter how hard you try to hide, terror finds you constantly. However, your face twists in joy as you laugh. Yet, you still talk and converse; the cool air of a peace long forgotten swirls around your soul. You are plagued with the truth, yet you seek to learn more. At times, I wonder if you will repeat.
Time is but a concept. A thin thread without an end. Despite it, the string wraps around itself inexplicably – a warning to the inevitable.
And I can't help but wonder if…
…You can unwind this string of Fate and let this lowly maid rest in peace.