I feel them.
I feel the flames, burning as brightly, as powerfully as that day.
The day when I burned my life to the ground.
I burned it all, burned the disgusting memories, the disgusting belongings, everything that reminded me of that disgusting human being.
Flames are all-powerful.
Flames are cleansing.
I can hear it; death is coming on black wings. The filthy rats of Stormwind knows too; they cover and hide in their filthy hiding-places.
But the flames will find them.
It will all burn.
xoxoxoxox
Emmet snuck her out under the darkness of the night, her body covered by a sheet as he carried her in his arms.
He had to be quick, couldn't let anyone see him so he clung to the shadows.
It was still raining; the storm was still raging so luck was with him. Not a soul was on the stone-covered streets and most of the houses were dark.
People were asleep, as they were supposed to.
It was surprisingly easy to sneak past the few guards that walked about; they weren't doing their best this evening, not with the horrible weather, and their lanterns that could only cast so much light.
If Emmet cared, he would have reported them to the city guards, but he did not care. Not tonight.
Tonight he was only interested in getting away.
After slipping out the city's main gates, Emmet hurried down towards the forest area surrounding Stratholme, not making a sound even as the tree's branches scratched over his face and arms.
He could barely feel the cold rain soaking his tunic, the way his long, blond hair sticking to his face.
The only thing that mattered was getting rid of the body he was carrying as fast as possible.
He didn't walk far into the forest, not wanting to get lost in the darkness. He hadn't thought about bringing a lantern of his own, but in a way, he was glad he hadn't. He would get spotted more easily if he carried one.
"And I am not going to be caught because of you," he growled as he dumped Rosmary's body rather un-ceremonially onto the hard dirt-ground, even giving her a small glare, as if this was her fault.
He then realised that in his haste to get out of the city, he had completely forgotten to bring anything to dig with.
He considered for a moment just leaving her; surely the wild animals in the forest would dispose of her, but it could take days. That and with the rain and thunder it was unlikely that anything was outside now. If that continued, then the risk of a hunter or woodsman finding her was high and he just couldn't risk that.
He could run back into town, but if he was caught like this, carrying a shovel, the guards would surely question him.
Emmet bit his lip, frowning as he looked at the ground. He kneeled down and dug his fingers into the moist grass and soil, easily grasping and removing two handfuls of the soil.
He would just have to do this the hard way.
Emmet had no idea just how long he was going at it, digging the hole with his hands like a dog. He tried to push and drag as large an amount of soil as he could, but it was slow work. The lack of light saves from the occasional lightning strike, made it hard to see just how far along he had gotten, and the constant stream of water pouring into his eyes quickly became an annoyance.
The anger just fuelled him along with the desperation so he kept going, kept digging until his fingers became sore. The further down into the soil he got, the harder it became to dig, his fingers scraping over rocks and hardened clay.
Hours must have passed before he stood up, or at least it felt like hours had passed. It was still dark so it was hard to tell, the mountains surrounding the horizon making it hard to properly judge how close to sunrise it was.
He was tired, his arms ached and he was dirty and wet from digging, but as he looked down, he could see the hole he had dug up and the sight made him smile.
The hole was shallow, but it was deep enough for a small woman like Rosmary and he was certain that, in time, insects and animals would finish her remains without much issue.
By the time she was found, Emmet would have left after fabricating a story about her disappearance.
He had considered saying she had run away with another man, but he doubted that anyone would believe that. Rosmary was a priestess and a respected person, and nobody in the town would believe that a bitch such as her would have done anything so wrong.
No, he would have to make it simpler, he thought as he lifted the body up into his arms again, then gently lowering her into the dark hole.
A quick trip to the forest for fresh berries, perhaps? The finishing touches to a cake or pie; a surprise waiting as she waited for the return of her darling husband.
Yes, that sounded more like her.
Emmet couldn't help but grin as he stood over her, one leg on each side of her body.
Even in death she looked pretty, he noted. The rain had soaked her to the bone, making the long, black hair cling to her face and the thin dress cling to her body, showing off her forms.
He placed an arm over his chest and lowered his head, saying a quick prayer for her before kneeling down so he could start covering her with the soil.
"Nothing personal, darling," he said as he started covering her up, starting with her legs.
"But I cannot let you ruin me like this. You should have listened, and continued to be the pretty, perfect wife you were."
He frowned some as he shifted around to cover her hips and lower abdomen with the dirty.
"I loved you, you know. You were a good wife. You were good. You were everything I wanted in a wife. So why did you have to ruin it, huh? We had a good things going, you and I. Why ruin it?"
The only answer Emmet got was the lightning flashing over the black sky, quickly followed by the rumbling thunder.
He continued working, slowly covering up his wife's body with the dirt until her head remained. He was far from done, but he wanted a last good-bye with the woman he had once called wife.
"I will miss you," he murmured, his voice choking up as he looked down at her face. He reached down and cupped her pale cheek, smudges of dirt appearing on the porcelain skin as he touched her.
"I will make sure that your memory is a good one. It... You deserve that much."
It was true. He regretted her passing and she -was- a good woman.
But he felt no remorse for what he had done because she -had- deserved it by denying him.
It was simply a thing that had to be done and this was the consequence.
"Good bye, my love," he whispered as a final word, leaning down to press a kiss against Rosmary's cold lips, letting it linger.
However, when he tried to pull away, he felt that he couldn't.
In fact, he felt himself slowly getting very, very tired.
Letting out a strangled gasp, he tried to push away from Rosmary, only to let out a choked scream as he felt cold, strong hands grasp at his head.
His eyes jerked up and he felt horror sink in as he stared into the wide, blue eyes of his dead wife.
His dead wife was holding his head in an iron grip, her mouth firmly attached to his and all he knew is that he couldn't break the hold on her.
He let out another scream, but once again it was muffled, swallowed by Rosmary's mouth as he felt all his energy was being sucked out of it.
Emmet started aching, he could feel everything leaving him from the inside and it was all too late when he realised just what was going on.
Rosmary was sucking the very life out of him.
His last thought before the darkness seemed to swallow him up from the inside was of Rosmary and how ironic the situation was. The light had left him and now, only darkness remained.
As Emmet slumped down onto her, Rosmary just laid there, shivering, feeling the all-to-familiar weight of her husband slowly crushing her down. She was panting, almost hyperventilating, as she put her hands under him and slowly pushed him off of her, rolling him over so she could crawl out of the shallow grave she was on.
She had no memory of what had happened, just that darkness had claimed her and that a voice, a low, dark voice had told her that it would give her a gift.
The gift of life, should she find it in her to accept.
And she had. She wanted to live, wanted to break free, wanted to be away from the darkness.
And she had managed to open her eyes as Emmet kissed her and she had used the gift. She had taken back what Emmet had stolen from her and now... Now she was alive again.
Yet she felt hollow, broken, as if something inside of her was missing and she wasn't sure what it was.
'The light,' she realised as she sat on the ground, shivering as the cold rain continued to pour down over her.
'I cannot sense or hear the light anymore.'
The light, her trusted companion and friend since she was but a girl, who's power and energy hummed and sang to her... It was silent.
Emmet had taken the light from her and now she only had darkness. As Rosmary realised this, she became aware of the throb and pulses from it, how it clung to her, caressed her.
'The darkness,' she thought as a choked sob broke from her. 'It's come for me... It is my friend now.'
As the realisation hit her, she could almost hear the sound of chittering, like something was trying to talk to her, encourage her. Reassuring her that she was not alone, that she had a new friend now.
Another broke sob escaped her as she pulled her knees up to her chest, feeling how the cold darkness started filling her up.
There was no escape from it, it was already there. It had already taken the place of the light.
She remained out there, face pressed into her hands as she sobbed; sobbed for all she had lost.
She had lost Emmet, her husband, her darling friend, but when she could not really answer.
She had lost her innocence, her confidence.
She had even lost the light and because of it, her purpose. Without the light, how could she ever follow in her parents' footsteps. How could she even return back to Stratholme, being darkened like this?
Would they understand? Would they accept her as she was now; dirtied, broken?
Rosmary did not know, nor did she know if she had the courage to find out.
The sun had barely started to rise when she made her way back to the city, a dead look in her eyes. She had left Emmet in the grave, not even bothering to move him or cover him in dirt. He did not deserve the effort, she had decided. It had pained her at the same time as it had soothed her when the thought had slipped into place.
Punishment... Penance. She could understand that and this...? This was his punishment. One for one, she decided.
She walked with purpose, though the steps were slow and pained. She could hear the guards call for her, some even dashed to her side, asking if she needed aid, but she didn't respond. She merely walked on, ignoring them, even as they called her by name. She was known after all, as the daughter of a priest and priestess.
Her steps took her to the house she had once shared with Emmet and as she stepped inside, she couldn't help the nausea that filled her.
This house... It was a house of bad memories, of pain and suffering.
Everything had been lost in this house and she knew she couldn't stand to remain in it.
She couldn't remain in the city period.
"Madam?" a careful voice said behind her and as she turned around, she could see two guards standing behind her, a concerned look on their faces. "... Are you alright? You walked here as if in a daze..." one of them asked, a man, with dirty blond hair sticking out from underneath his helmet and green eyes.
He was young, probably only twenty years of age, she noted.
Rosmary smiled, the forced action coming surprisingly easy. "I am just fine, guardsman. I realise I must look quite the fright, but I am fine. However, I need a favour from you. Could you help me?"
"Certainly, madam," the guard said, straightening up.
"I need a messenger to deliver a note to my parents," she said, her voice calm, collected. She was surprising herself with how calm she was, but she realised that it was just part of her now. The mask she had crafted to herself during the marriage with Emmet was whole and she could still use it.
"But it is important that it is not delivered until a certain time. Can you do that?"
"I can certainly get a messenger here, madam," the guard said. "When would you like one here?"
"In an hour would be fine," Rosmary said as she turned around. "I will be more... Presentable then." She knew how she must have looked; her wet dress smudged with dirt along with her skin, her hair wet and tangled.
"Of course, madam," the guard said, giving her a sharp salute before heading off.
His partner was not as eager to leave and only when he moved aside, did Rosmary see that it was a woman.
She looked at her, her brown eyes intense as she took in the state of Rosmary's attention.
"... Are you sure you are fine, madam?" she asked carefully, her voice concerned. "You do look like you have been in a tough spot."
"I am just fine," Rosmary said, her smile still in place. "I was merely helping my husband last night with some trouble, in the forest. I spend all night there, healing and giving aid to a poor soul who had collapsed from injuries."
"Is he okay," the guard immediately asked, though the look on her face still remained. Rosmary couldn't place it and it concerned her.
She couldn't let the woman know what had happened. She couldn't take that shame.
"We are not sure. He is not well enough to be moved so I need to get back there as soon as possible," Rosmary said, letting a sadder look appear on her face.
"... I fear for his life, in all honesty. In fact," she hummed while she placed a hand on her chin. "Perhaps you can help me?"
"Of course, madam," the guard said. "What do you need?"
"Well, depending on the poor man's fate, we will need a messenger, either to alert the healer or, Light forbid it, alert my parents to prepare his funeral," Rosmary said while closing her eyes, placing the hand over her heart.
"I will, of course, do the final rites in the forest should it come to that, but he will deserve something proper."
"Of course, madam," the guard repeated. "Should I wait her while you get ready?"
"Yes, please do," Rosmary said while pushing the door open. "I shouldn't be long and you can greet the messenger when they come, should I not be ready."
The guard nodded and stepped inside the home, looking around for a moment as she removed her helmet. "You have a lovely home, madam," she complimented, letting her helmet rest carefully under one of her arms as she stepped into the living room.
"Thank you," Rosmary said with a small smile, closing and locking the door behind the guard before she headed towards the stairs. "Please, do sit down or help yourself to something to drink. There is cider in the basement, should you want some."
"You are most kind," the female guard said with a small smile, looking a bit more relaxed as she stepped further into the house.
Rosmary merely waved her hand at her before slowly heading up the stairs, her mind reeling. She needed to get the woman away or she would ruin everything.
Exactly what everything was, Rosmary didn't know. It was like something else was running her body, her mind and she knew she had a plan before she had even known she had needed one.
A plan to help her escape this horrible house and every bad memory.
Walking into the small washing room they had next to their bedroom, Rosmary filled up a washing-basinet with cold water before stripping out of her dirty and torn clothes. She dipped some cloth into the water and started washing her body, not caring that the water was more or less freezing. She just wanted to be clean again, but no matter how much she scrubbed at her skin, making the pale skin red from the effort, she still felt dirty.
Closing her eyes, Rosmary tried to ignore the constant chittering that was going on at the back of her head. She could not make out the words, she didn't want to because she knew it was not good, but at the same time she tried to listen, tried to understand.
They were telling her things, telling her what to do and how to do it.
She had no idea how much time she spent washing herself and listening to the chittering, but after a while she gave up, tossing the dirty cloth into the dirty water before standing up and walking naked to the bedroom.
Once inside she just stared at the bed, stared at it with a look of pure hatred as she thought of all the pain she had felt while laying on it.
Small hands grasped and held onto her feet and she could hear the chittering again and this time, she understood what they said.
She wanted the bed gone, she should burn it.
Then she hesitated, surprised by her own anger and hate before managing to pull herself more or less together again. She had to prepare to get out of here.
She hesitated for another moment before she located a small bag from the closet, stroking her hands over the fine silk.
This... This would have to do.
She immediately started stuffing it full of clothes and books, anything she believed she would need. At times she would drag something out and toss it aside in favour of something else, only to change her mind and retrieved it.
She even emptied it out two times before repacking it again.
In the end, she had packed down everything she wanted that did not remind her of Emmet; one simple white robe and one blue, some smallclothes, a hairbrush, some jewellery that she had gotten from her parents, a couple of books and, of course, their money-pouch. It wasn't much, but would be enough until she could find something else. They had been good when it came to watching their expenses.
This, she thought, would have to do.
She paused, just looking into her bag, pondering about what to do when she heard a sharp knock on the door, then the steps of the guard as she headed towards the door. "Madam, I believe the messenger is here. Should I open the door?"
Rosmary swore under her breath, only to clamp both hands over her mouth.
She had sworn. She never swore.
The thought that an hour had already passed had completely caught her off-guard and she didn't feel ready. "Y-yes," she called out as she quickly tugged a simple cotton dress over her head, not caring about undergarments or stockings just yet. She looked fine, nobody would know about her state of undress.
"I will be but a moment," she called out when she heard the door open, quickly dragging her brush through her hair to get rid of the worse of the tangles while ignoring the faint laughter that came from the shadows in the room.
As soon as she deemed herself presentable, not thinking too much about the fact that she was naked underneath his dress, Rosmary headed downstairs, giving the female guard and the messenger a smile. "I am sorry for being so late," she said. "I dreamt myself away while in the tub."
"No trouble at all, ma'am," the messenger said, adjusting the cap he was wearing. He was young, younger than the first guard had been and he looked unfocused.
Uninterested.
It would be perfect.
"I was told you had a message?"
"Yes," Rosmary said as she walked over to the kitchen-table and located some parchment and a quill. "I need you to deliver a message to my parents, at the church," she added while quickly writing down what she wanted to say: just a quick message goodbye, telling them how much she loved them and that she was leaving with Emmet to seek a new life.
She could not let them know of her shame. Not yet.
After writing the note, she carefully rolled it up and tied it with a piece of string before handing it to the messenger along with three gold-coins. "Please, have this delivered in exactly an hour," she said, smiling gently. "I believe they have a sermon now."
"Of course, ma'am. Thank you," the messenger said, quickly bowing before he walked outside, coins in his pocket and message in hand.
Closing the door after him, Rosmary let out a small sigh of relief before turning around, almost jumping when she saw the female guard. She had almost forgotten that she was there.
"Everything okay, madam?" the guard asked, once again giving Rosmary a suspicious look, one Rosmary easily deflected with one of her practiced smiles.
"It will be very soon. Now, I will just find my holy book and we can leave to help my husband with the poor injured soul."
Rosmary ran her fingers over her chin, looking thoughtful. "In fact, while I prepare, can you go down into the cellar and pack a small basket of food and water? He will need his strength if we are to transport him here."
"Of course madam," the guard said, giving Rosmary a small bow before heading down to the cellar.
Rosmary watched as the woman vanished into the darkness, then slowly picked up a lantern that was standing on the kitchen-table. She lit it, then let the flame become stronger. "You will need a lantern," she called down before heading into the darkness after the guard. "Allow me to bring you one."
"Most kind, I was about to ask for one, madam," the guard said, giving Rosmary a smile as she walked over to the barrels carrying fruit. "You can put it on the floor."
"Of course," Rosmary murmured, looking at the guard before slamming the lantern hard over her head, making her stumble forward with a pained gasp, glass and oil going everywhere. Before the guard could react, she hit her again, this time with the brass-base, then another, sending the broken glass into the woman's throat.
She watched in silence as the guard slumped forward, twitching and bleeding on the floor until there was no movement.
"Thank you," she murmured and dropped the lantern, then headed back upstairs to the first floor. She closed the door to the cellar and locked it, hesitating for a moment before going back upstairs to fetch her bag. She looked at herself in the mirror, inspecting her appearance before deciding that there were no splatters of blood on her dress. She then slowly headed downstairs and put the bag down by the door before she picked up another lantern from the living room. The brass-base was full with oil and she carefully removed the glass cap that held the flame, inspecting the oil before pouring it over the floor. She didn't have much, but it would be enough for what she had in mind. When the lantern was empty, she tossed it towards the fireplace before picking up the last lantern that was downstairs; she lit it and brought it with her to the front-door. With one last look to her home, Rosmary picked up her bag before tossing the lantern hard back into the house. It only took a second for the oil on the ground to catch fire and once she was certain the flames had taken root, she closed and locked the door before leaving her house.
She was already halfway out of the city when the first alarms started sounding, alerting the city of the fire.
However, she did not stop until she was back outside, back to where she had left Emmet. She gave her husband a look before looking towards Stratholme, watching as she saw the thick, black smoke come from somewhere inside.
There was nothing there for her now.
Her memories, her life, her innocent had all been ruined a long time ago and all she could do was burn it.
Burn it to the ground and burn it away from her life.
She would be on her own now.
She would forge herself a new way.
xoxoxox
The sound of screams is filling the air along with the sound of our just fate.
It is as it must be and I can feel myself grin as the heat starts rising.
Yes, yes, this is it. This is how it must be.
The flames of the master of death will purge us all and we will all be pure.
I will once again be pure.