The stars shone especially bright that night. The moon was full, and one would need no fire to walk outside. It was a night for magic, for good omens, as so believed by the Whitetower populace, and he had to count on those if he was to succeed on his mission.
There was a noise coming from the city, of people singing, drinking and bartering on the night bazaars that were held in such auspicious occasions. The people are happy and hopeful, and he could almost feel guilty about taking that away from them. If only he cared. If only they had cared for him.
Alas, he thought nothing of that.
The stars above twinkled in an effort to brighten the sky, but when he looked up, all he saw were the void spaces between the stars, those infinite yawning chasms of encompassing darkness that tightened around him, cutting off his breath. The tears slid steadily down his cheeks, falling onto his skin without a sound.
He closed his eyes.
He thought it would be nice to walk around on the garden with her that night. He thought he would have enjoyed sharing a life with her. He thought he could have been happy, if she had not arrived much too late.
Now that she slept under the same roof, he could almost feel her beside him, feel the warm heat of her small body against his chest, feel the softness of her dark, cold skin as his arms wrapped around her. He could almost feel her soft brown curls under his chin, caressing his face.
Gently, he kissed the top of her head and buried his face in her tresses, inhaling the sweet scent that was uniquely hers. She moved closer to him and closed her smooth hand over his, and he shivered under her gentle touch. It was all his, it was all for him, and he felt his pain and his loneliness melt away in the night.
When she turned around, when she looked so deeply into him, she could bare his very soul, the tears started anew. She was so beautiful, and she was here, with him. She would never leave him, and she would never betray him.
His Forever Queen.
Those beautiful eyes, that never-aging midnight blue skin, those dark, gentle, wide, amazed eyes were staring attentively at him, those lips were curving up into an almost unbearably sweet smile, and she buried her head in his poised alabaster shoulder.
He was holding her again, his hands rubbing circles on her back, her warmth seeping into his body and drowning his senses. An angel in his arms, and by the gods, she was amazing, so loving, so perfect, so…
Then, he would open his eyes, extend his arms, and the place beside him was empty.
He should have never opened his eyes.
Longingly, he smoothed his hand over the smooth, cold silk bedspread. She was so beautiful, so perfect… So unattainable.
The warm trails of tears fell from his eyes once more, turning the fabric beneath his eyes damp with moisture. The vigorous moonlight shone on the place next to him, mocking the emptiness, the vacuity of his magnanimous princely lit with the frigid, white rays.
Empty. Always empty.
With the morning, his plan came to fruition. He finally tasted revenge. He finally killed his monstruous brother, opened a portal to the Shadow Realm and kidnapped the priestess so his master could have a bodily vessel. He brought him his sword, he offered him the world on a platter.
Him and her were, now, on opposite sides about to collide. He was confident on his victory, he worked too hard to get to this point to lose so easily, but he wondered what it will become of her?
His master would, without semblance of doubt, kill her. The Shadow Lord had to kill her if he wanted to leave this wretched world, there was no possibility of bartering for her life.
He will create a new world, she will die with the old one.
He wondered if there was a choice, a fork in the road behind him, that he could have taken that would not lead to this end. He thinks it was inevitable.
Finally, things unfolded, and they did not go according to plan. The band managed to murder the remainder of the Shadow Court, and they also were able to undo the corruption on the sword, slaying his lord as if he was made of butter.
He tried to escape, to where he did not know, but he was unsuccessful.
Her Light sword came down swiftly on him and flayed his heart open, cutting through it slowly and laying it on the ice; throbbing, but still feebly beating.
It would be so easy to let go, now. To just close his eyes forever, to just dream of her, of the life they could have had together, like he did every night without fail, ever since he met her. To dream of holding her, to hearing her melodious voice in his ear, to feeling her touch on his skin. For an eternity.
Even if it was just a fantasy, he could hope for nothing more. Fantasies were all he ever had in life; it might be so in death as well. It would serve him well enough.
She never lasted, she never stayed. He could see and touch, but just long enough for him to remember joy, long enough to tempt him and revive his deadened heart. Then she would disappear. She always did.
Leaving his arms cold, his mind frozen, his soul bleeding.
He closed his eyes again, and almost instantly she was beside him, touching his face tenderly and wrapping her small arms around his trembling, breaking frame.
Do not leave me, please do not leave me here, all alone. Do not fade away in the mist again.
It is so dark in here… So cold…
Do not leave me…
Please...