Prologue
Authors note:
Please note that this work has not been professionally edited. I'm working on this story as a trial run to see if people enjoy it and want to read more of it. If you do, please let me know.
Prologue
Catherine
It was over the moment it began—though Catherine hadn’t realized it then. Where one story starts, another ends; fate had always played cruel jokes on her life. Why she ever believed otherwise, she could no longer recall as the wind whipped through her long black hair. Her fingers clung weakly to the cold stone of the tower wall behind her while her gaze drifted into the endless void. Below, the sea raged, its waves crashing like a chorus of sirens calling her name. Her inner turmoil—a storm of fury and despair colliding within her.
“Soon,” she whispered to the emptiness.
The others would be disappointed, for countless reasons. But she had given them everything—her strength, her blood, her soul—on the battlefield. There was nothing left to give. Her skin and tattered dress bore the stains of day-old blood mingled with fresh wounds, grotesque reminders of survival. Days had passed without rest, without washing, without anything but the relentless fight to endure—for herself, for her people. Those who remained would find a way without her. She had convinced herself of that much, though the conviction felt hollow, brittle as glass.
Her resignation was a weight, crushing and absolute. If she lingered below, among the wounded and the grieving, she might falter. So she slipped away while they were distracted—binding wounds, saving lives, mourning the fallen. If they knew her intent, they would never let her go. But leaving was no longer a choice; it was necessity. Her plan was drastic, irreversible—the only path left to her.
The spiral staircase wound upward like a serpent, each step echoing her resolve. At the summit, the wind screamed, and the salt of the sea stung her senses. For the first time in days, her thoughts stilled. She allowed herself to feel nothing. Not pain. Not sorrow. Nothingness had once been her greatest weapon. It gave her clarity, power—the ability to act when others hesitated. They had called her names: cold-hearted bitch, ice queen. Words meant to wound, yet she wore them like armor. They were true, after all. When blood needed spilling, they turned to her. When choices demanded ruthlessness, she delivered. They could curse her all they wanted; in the end, they owed their lives to her. That knowledge was enough.
Nothingness had been her sanctuary—until he shattered it. He dragged her from the shadows into a world of color, of feeling. She tried to hate him for it, but the only emotion that pierced her defenses was pain—raw, merciless pain that would have broken anyone else.
Fate and its twisted humor. It dangled happiness before her only to rip it away. A humorless laugh escaped her lips, lost to the howling wind. She stepped forward, then again, until stone gave way to air. The void embraced her. The sea roared below, a dark cradle awaiting its child. The air clawed at her, urging her to fight, to cling to life. But Catherine defied instinct, forcing every shred of strength into surrender. His face flickered in her mind—a final image, a fragile tether—and she held it as she fell.
“Soon,” she whispered to the Fates.
