The way the sunlight filtered through the trees of the dense forest was curious to the boy. It seemed to suggest that it was such a perfect morning, nothing could be wrong. That life could only be perfect, at least for today.
Oh, yet it was anything but.
He felt it funny that, especially at the moment, he was drifting off again; looking around at trees, thinking that some sunlight sparkling on leaves meant something special. But it didn’t. Nothing did anymore. His feet felt much too clumsy and big for him, but he wasn’t sure if it was actually him running, or if she was pushing him forward. It was such a frivolous thing, though, that he didn’t worry himself over the thought of how he was moving, only that he was. He tried to keep in mind that he was escaping, getting further away, slowly dodging death’s claws which were ravenously open and ready for his flimsy body to be spewed on their razorous sharp points. At that thought, he felt the burning in his side again, and immediately tried to occupy his mind, in order to direct it away from the pain.
He hadn’t realized it, but she had begun sobbing again. He constantly had to remind himself, whenever he saw her in so much pain, that it was his fault. It would always be his fault, everything that happened to her from the moment he met her on. His fault that she was here right now, his fault that she had to leave everything and everyone she loved . . . all his fault. Though she’d deny it until the world stopped spinning, though every time she suspected he even considered that she screamed and raged, they both, deep down, knew it. It was all his fault.
He felt her tense and gave a heavy sigh which was quite painful for him to muster under the circumstances. “Don’t,” he muttered hoarsely. His voice sounded so weak, so frail. And he felt that way too. As if he could no longer help her. As if he could no longer help anyone anymore. She was pushing him to go faster. Why would she do such a thing? Couldn’t she see he was stumbling, couldn’t she conceive that he need to rest? Couldn’t she the red, couldn’t she hear the pain in every breath he took? Or was she just focusing on her own life, like she always did, was she just being so beautifully selfish?
He couldn’t help but smile at that thought, and no sooner had the smile appeared on his face was it wiped off again. Tripping over his own clumsy feet, he felt himself be thrown to the ground, his head hitting the cold, wet grass quite suddenly.
She was by his side in a second. “Darell,” whispered she, “get up.” Her voice. Oh, how it enchanted him! It was like summer whispering through winter, or a beam of sunlight silencing the rain. It was strong enough to bring the dead to life, majestic enough to command the mountains to move. It was harsh enough to terrify a man for endless ages, but sweet enough to make him fall in love with her.
But today, even if it was painful to do so, he could not fulfill her wishes. The longer he lay there, the more worried she became. “Darell,” she urged, “come, now. We’re not that far from the clinic. A few miles, maybe. We can make it.”
Darell felt like laughing at such a statement. A few miles! He envied the days he ran for miles. Just minutes ago, a few miles was nothing, a walk around the corner. But now, it seemed to be endlessly far away.
For the first time since they started running, he pulled his hand away from his side and looked at it. It was red, so red he could see nothing else, not even the sky above him or his arm. All he saw was red, red everywhere.
Immediately something pale and white flashed across his vision and dragged his arm back to his side. “Don’t look at it,” came her sharp voice, the voice she always used to injure people but only made him smile. Her touch was cold, so cold! Suddenly he was unsure of who was dying, but just for a moment, for her next words confirmed. “We’ll take the arrow out once we get to the clinic. We’re close, Darell! Up!”
He didn’t care. He wanted to tell her to take it out now, to make the hot, searing pain disappear. It was like his whole side was on fire, and it hurt so much he began to grow dizzy. The world spun fast around him, so that he no longer understood anything. Everything processed horrifyingly slow to his mind. His first thought was that he wanted it to stop. His mind questioned what he wanted to stop, and his heart responded he wanted everything to stop--time, the pain, the world.
She spoke, but it took him a while to recall what she said. Even then, it was hard to decipher, for every letter was held in a sob. “Darell, we must leave now. They draw closer.”
But his mind only questioned her words. Who are ‘they’? Where must we go, and why? That came quicker to him than expected, but he had help. It was a tinkling little voice inside his head, as clear as a bell. It had always explained everything, but nothing could explain what he had to do next.
He knew this moment would come eventually, but he had hoped not too soon. He had hoped to settle down, have a family; a boy, specifically, to pass down the gift to, as was tradition. He had hoped to teach everything he knew to this boy, had hoped that one day, when he knew his time was up, to give the boy the gift and remind him gently of his newly gained knowledge. He had hoped he could watch, from above, his child do the one thing he never could—save the world.
But there was no time for any of his dreams anymore. There probably never was. Now Darell was facing a serious decision of life or death; specifically, his.
He felt her speaking again, but he blocked her out. He couldn’t listen to her. He had to try to concentrate on the task ahead, however impossible that might be. He took a few deep breaths, but they only worsened his pain and made him cough terribly. The hack shook his body violently, and suddenly his mind took on the image of an ship being thrashed around in a rough sea. What a poet you are, he teased himself.
He grabbed at the ground, as if seeking help, seeking relief. Relief, but... from what? To ask for help in his dwindling minutes seemed selfish, as if trying to cheat the world at its own game. Besides, nothing could save him now.
Come to think... nothing had ever been there to save him. It was his job to save the world. Nobody ever saved the savior, did they?
He took another deep, shaking breath. He anticipated the pain this time, and bent his head to touch the dewy ground. So many unanswered questions raced through his mind. Perhaps they’d never be answered. Perhaps he’d never know the truth.
Her screams broke through his guard. It hurt his heart more deeply than any flesh wound could. He pushed himself up, opened his eyes carefully. The world blurred in front of him, but if it was from the pain or from tears he’d never know.
He held one hand up towards her. All he could see was red, and that didn’t help the terror that was mounting inside his heart, didn’t help the tears he now felt gliding down his cheeks. His entire body shook with the fear of what would happen after the words left his lips. He saw, even through his blurred eyes, her bending down to him, calling his name in her flawless voice. “How is my very voice flawless?” she would have shrieked at him had she known his thoughts. “Why would you ever say such a thing?” He would just laugh and hold her close. He’d feel her resist his touch for a few seconds before melting against him, giving in to his simple hug, and they’d walk on together, laughing and smiling, him agitating her with every word and then hugging her close to make her shouts cease. They’d find a place to rest underneath a bridge somewhere, and she’d refuse to sit with him, using the excuse that she couldn’t see the stars or she hated his giddy smile or that she was just plain mad at him. But within minutes, she’d be calling him over rudely, asking him why he was excluding himself, sitting far off from her, and for the thousandth time make him tell her she was needed on his mission. He’d sit with her and hug her, and they’d stare at the stars, her voice being soft and sweet, then suddenly roar up to a rude and violent temper. But he knew no matter how hard she screamed she wouldn’t run away from him. She would pull him closer.
What happened to those days? That was just yesterday. What happened to when they could be together, forever, no questions asked, no side notes about it? They were gone, brushed away like dirt out of a well dressed house. His life, his love, his powers . . . he was losing them all. He closed his eyes, terrified of what he was seeing. It was as if he was looking at a disguisting picture. He shut his mind off too, unable to hear her voice any longer. However hard it was for him, he must ignore her. He must focus on what he had to do.
The words of the spell came out of his mouth, but it took him a while to even realize he was speaking. He heard her scream again, and this time, he knew why. She understood. That quick-witted love of his knew what he was doing.
Pure light began to glow on his outstretched hand as he continued saying the spell. He felt his energy drain, and as he did, he actually heard the words coming out of her mouth. “Darell! Don’t you dare do this to me!” Her words were shaking with sobs, and he felt her smooth hand on his arm. “Darell!”
She began to sob uncontrollably then, and he wished he could comfort her, but he couldn’t. He had completed the spell, and that, in a way, meant his time was up.
The light he had been slowly nurturing with his words flew out of his hand and straight to his love, who was still sitting there, sobbing. He opened his eyes without realizing it, and wished he hadn’t. She looked paler than he had ever seen her, her hair strewn about, tears augmenting her face bitterly . . .
He looked down at himself. It was red, everywhere, all red. It was no longer just his side burning, but even his very soul. Dizziness was pounding at his head angrily, and suddenly he felt the ground against his head. Darkness edged at the corners of his eyes. “Anna?” he whispered, but he doubted she even heard him. He heard another voice, inside his head, almost as broken as Anna’s was. ‘I’ll protect her, dear my friend. I swear it.’
He was gone.
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