She looked beautiful even as she died. The wind rustled her hair; blowing up behind her it seemed almost like a halo. The blood dripped slowly from her eyes, down her cheek onto her dress. Her blooded dress blew forward as she fell from the cliff, her arms outstretched, her face frozen in an expression of horror maybe even terror, frozen that way until time took from us any memory of that beautiful women. I walked to the edge of the cliff; I saw her body drifting away from me in the beautiful blue ocean, the blood mixing with the water, polluting the perfection of the sea. Her life betrayed by this end, this ugly, ugly end. Her blood told the true result of the crime that had been committed here. No…that was wrong. The vial in my hand was the true result of the crime here, this vial would make it all worth it. I walked away from the brown, dirty cliff edge and left my lovers body to be washed away by the sea. There was only one last thing to do before I could die in peace… and that was to die in war.
One Year Earlier
I sat as I had been instructed to do. I wore smart clothes, black jacket over a brown vest and black trousers, as I had been instructed to do. I had even washed my hair as they had been intrusive enough to instruct me to do and now the king acted as if I he didn’t know why I was there. I could have punched him, I would have if it hadn’t been for the fact he could have had me killed straight away. He just sat there looking at me. The silence was awkward but I wouldn’t talk until he talked to me. I looked round the room instead, in the far corner I saw a chest, ash black, intricate designs covered it’s top. Flowers, I thought. It looked like it originated from Harshat.
The King saw me looking. “Admiring my cabinet are you Herfit, it’s from Harshat you know, in the east.”
“I thought so Sir, I travelled there only last year.” I said.
“Of course, I forget how well travelled you are Herfit.” He crossed the dark room, the gloom emphasised rather than lessoned by the white walls and black wood. “Take a look.” He said as he opened the cabinet lid. I did so and immediately forgot any animosity towards the king. It was full of beautifully written scrolls, instructions in magic, poems and histories of Harshat. Few knew the extent of documentation that had taken place in Harshat before The Fall. Its effects had been as bad there as we in Sethorn had suffered. However unlike in Sethorn, writing had stayed in Harshat, these documents were incredibly rare.
One document in particular caught my eye. It was browner, older than the rest. It was written in a mixture of symbols and letters, as if it was a missing link in the evolution of language, all cultures begin with diagrammatical languages and then grow to have words and letters, this must have been written by someone versed in both. I reached in and took out the parchment studying it intensely, searching for the courage to ask the king if I could take it and study it myself. I was so engrossed I didn’t here the door open. I looked round too late, reached out too late and shouted too damm late.
The King was dead, his throat cut, his eyes wide and his clothes bloodied. The man who had killed him looked at me with deep dark eyes and a wide cruel grin, His teeth showing, yellow and rotting. He wore a long black cloak. He was out the door, before I could stand. Leaving me alone with the body of a dead king.
