Category : Stories

Sub Category : Fantasy

Her black hair danced behind her, flickering like a flame. Her hair was tinted red in the sunset seeping into the horizon against a bruised sky. She held her sword in hand, it’s golden design against black steel, perfectly balanced in hand. The crisp autumn air came swiftly over the crystal waters like a shattered mirror. She lifted her sword, glistening crimson ribbons dripping down as she stood looking down at her opponent pressing trembling hands against his gut, but his eyes were steady. Brown and scarlet leaves were scattered around them on the yellowing grass.
She held her sword, ready to lay the final blow, but she hesitated. She had this strange feeling in her gut, one she hadn't felt in awhile, doubt. What if he was right? No, impossible, they would never lie to me. Or would they? Her sword prided for its light weighted balance now felt awkward and heavy. She felt a stream of blood trickle down her face, down her lip, down her neck. She took a shaky breath lifting the sword again ready to thrust it down, but found herself unable. This was not her first time, not unlike any other, but his words seemed to echo in her ears again and again.He laid there, wild electric eyes watching in more interest than fear, his black hair flickered violently. She could hear his loud raspy pant as his lungs struggled to gather the next breath again and again. Was this time really so different than any other? She looked up from him to the sea, questioning herself. She was the one standing tall, holding her sword above her dieing opponent, but she was the one who felt defeated.
“Will you let someone else tell you your truth, or will you find it for yourself?” he gasped. She starred, lowering her sword. “Will you always let someone else tell you who you are?” He grunted, exhaling, but he never drew in another breath.
“What do I do?” she whispered. The words became thick in her throat, causing her to choke. Her sword slipped from her fingers next to the lifeless body. She dropped to her knees and closed his eyes that were staring blankly out to sea.“What do I do?” she screamed out helplessly. She could feel her heart start to tear. Suddenly seeing where her truth did not connect, how it couldn’t be true? She had given her loyalty to a lie, a faux cause.
 Her heart became heavy with despair, anxious for the truth. She let out a moan, until it grew to a wail, until she was crying out at the top of her lungs. She called out the question again and again, but the water just repeated it back. Trails of blood and tears traced her face as she screamed out in anger, confusion, shame. The longer she sat, her question was repeated quieter and quieter until it was little more than a whisper, then thoughtful silence. 
She rose walking back to the ancient forest. The giant trees gnarled and twisted up to the sky now black, her face and hands covered in blood, tears, and dirt. It was late fall, soon winter would come. She pulled her cloak in to fend off the algid winds. She walked on the long windy trail, worn with at least a century of use, most likely two. Suddenly she felt so tired, so overwhelmed. The scar across her face she knew would be a reminder, every time she looked in the mirror. She walked on, leaving who she once would call foe, unsure. Even now his voice still whispered in her ears, “And what is your cause? To follow every direction, to not question the words of  what most certainly could not be?” She looked down at her sheathed sword, she had taken everything from the one man who had shown her everything.