A Breath Away From Life

Snow blankets the earth, whipped and whisked by the winds, as I remain unmoving, not a single breath leaving me. I smile with a hint of mockery, knowing that I will always be but a breath away from life.

Never again will I taste the wild breeze or the bitterness of smoke from a roaring hearth. It’s something that I dare not hope or dream of. Instead, I am left with nothing more than a smouldering wish and an insignificant yearning, where hope is suffocated.

Even as I gaze past my reflection, seeing my beauty so similar to others, untouched by time, I'm reminded of a frozen rose, lovely to gaze upon, but ultimately uselessly ornamental. The once velvet softness deathly cold to the touch, the purpose to grow and bloom now hollow in every sense. Even the snow-capped mountains, that shine with their own respective strength, change more than I. I've lost count of the number of times that I've stood gazing at their steadfast beauty.

Self reflection seems almost vapid, but it fills me with self-loathing rather than a conceited vanity. How I fell so swiftly in love; a love that refused to leave me, even as I stand here now. What I would not give to rid myself of the vile feeling. My own powerlessness fills me with a bitterness hard to break, unlike my heart, which is so sorely shattered. Yet I remain tethered to him, a black-hearted beauty, so poisonous.

Turning away from the untamed wilderness so pure, I swallow my sneer at the longing to return to my innocent maidenhood. Reminding myself that I was the one who gifted it so gladly to an unworthy soul.

“Soul...” I smile in bitterness, “as if either of us has one...”

“Kasper...” My voice softly echoes as I hear his creeping steps and leering presence, nearing me.

“You called?” His grating tone slithers over my shoulders, like an unwanted groping hand.

I would kill him, but I know that another lurking presence will simply replace him, courtesy of that lowdown snake, currently curled around another slow to leave lover, in his palace in Deeping valley. At least I no longer have to gaze upon his monstrous beauty. No, I endure my love for him from a distance, shackled by isolation. As though my own heart is sealed by his love, refusing to waver even under the unrelenting hatred that I pour into the waves breaking upon its walls.

“Mistress?” My eyes narrow at his seeking tone.

“I'm leaving.” I turn without a glance in his direction. I know he enjoys my torment as much as his master, and that awareness feeds the coldness within me, whenever it begins to falter. Weakness is for those well-loved and trusting, for they can allow themselves such generosity. Until they're betrayed, of course.

The sweeping of my skirts accompanies me as I leave, moving swiftly in silence except for the gentle rustle of my lavish dress. I wear it with disdain now, even though once it was my joy. A gift from my mother. It now represents a life I gave up, only to squander it on a false and fleeting happiness. Slipping into my cloak, I raise the hood, carefully tucking in a few loose mahogany waves. The familiar woven basket sits at my feet, scattered with stray greenery from another outing. Even as I reach for the basket, settling it on the crook of my elbow, I can feel Kasper’s eyes studying me.

“I’ll return before darkness.” And if not, it means that I am dead. I know that there are plenty of the aristocracy and even some of the villagers (that refuse my services) who wish me an untimely death.

“I should be so lucky...”

Stepping outside my whisper dissipates, the coldness that would chill another to the bone, only embraces me in a familiar welcome. Taking the same scattered path once heavily snow laden, I watch the frozen landscape, listening to the sounds that occasionally break the stillness. Birdsong from miles away, and the almost silent melodies of nature that are only noticeable to those like myself. Even though I can no longer savour the fresh mountain air, the act of gathering healing herbs is one of the few moments of genuine feeling that I allow myself. Do I have any genuine feelings left, apart from hate? It’s a question that I always leave unanswered, whether afraid or simply no longer interested, I refuse to delve too deeply.

Lifting my head, I spot a familiar clearing, just a few steps away from the herbs that I’ve been looking for. Even though snow blankets the earth as though still sleeping, beneath the eternal winter, life blossoms, whether flowers or plentiful fruit, nature remains resilient and unperturbed. Many say that the lands are enchanted or blessed by the gods. I prefer to believe that nature is its own spirit and needs no other to lean upon. Besides, I doubt the gods are ever truly inclined to bless mere mortals with such a truly precious and gracious gift. For anyone who has known starvation would know what a generous gift, bountiful nature is.

Brushing aside a deeper drift of snow, green foliage and a subtle scent lift my spirits, momentarily casting aside the gloom and bitterness. My dress drapes over the glistening frosty underbrush, as I lean across to pluck the leaves of the hedge garlic, laying them gently in my basket. My steps remain light, even as I think about tomorrow’s visit to the lower village. Surrounded by mountains the three village clans are often isolated clusters, until you reach the valley, where his palace and town sprawl in all their gothic grandeur.

My heart lurches at the thought of my two years spent living in that heartless and glittering world. A place thriving on desire and temptation, but a poor place to be for truly loving souls and those of morals. Dusting off the snow from my hands, I reach for more herbs needed for the remedies of the sick and ailing. Thinking about them brings about a delicious warmth to the back of my throat, even as my mind rebels in disgust. A familiar burning spreads and I swallow slowly, knowing that I need to drink, and can no longer push it away as I have been.

The thought of preying on yet another animal quickens my steps, for my heart no longer beats. Though once again revulsion runs through me along with the heating of my blood. Setting my laden basket aside, cushioned by the snow, I slowly lift my head, scenting the air. Turning sharply, I’m surprised to immediately catch a glimpse of a familiar feline shape as it lays unmoving, behind a thin thicket. My nostrils flare in anger, even as my throat burns.

I know even before I see the feline that it’s been caught in a snare, and is sadly dying. The creature’s scent is soaked in the bitter aroma of death, the sourness growing stronger as I come to a silent halt. Slowly kneeling before it, I hear a faint bearly discernible snarl, as it attempts a feeble but useless swipe. Steeling myself, I close my eyes, even as I whisper the words that I don’t deserve.

“Forgive me.” Running a hand along the snow leopard’s soft downy coat, I’m unable to stop myself from admiring its beauty even while in the throes of death. I feel as its breathing shallows and it senses my true nature. Shivering, I push back the urge to lunge, freeing that animalistic nature, but I’m no longer able to bear the raging thirst and tormenting heat.

Leaning down, I pin the feline, my fangs descending as I pierce the animal’s jugular in a single bite. Warmth of a mellow sweetness flows between my lips as I shamefully revel in the taste as though it has been long awaited. I swallow in relief and derision, feeling as the blood occasionally escapes to drip down my chin and neck in gentle touches, reminiscent of a lover’s caress. The little warmth that the feline had finally fading, death claiming victory as I enjoy the spoils of its victim.

A shudder leaves me, only mildly tinged with revulsion. At the same moment, I sense that I’m no longer alone.

“Wren...” The whisper of my name lingers with a familiarly mocking tone. “Tsk, tsk dining out in such an uncivilised way, and on such poor quality cuisine.”

Turning sharply, I lock gazes with him, as remnants of blood still cling to my unusually pale skin, even for my monstrous state. I slowly rise, feeling the bitterness of heartache. The longing for his affection, that urges me to flee before I give in. Feelings of love and lust sweep through me, yet I refuse to acknowledge them.

I watch as he smirks, clearly showing his mirth as he tightens his grip on my emotions, twisting my love for him, and waiting for me to break down.

“Lord Kovan.” Even as I greet him, I think of nothing but his betrayal. Anything to keep the distance between us, even if the means to that is treating him with a resentful amount of respect. I know that to address him in such a way, even after our shared intimacy, is his way of humiliating me once more.

“Your resistance is as strong as ever, little bird...” slowly walking towards me, his blonde hair falls like pale golden gossamer. The long strands framing his angelic features, all except for the deep honey-brown of his seemingly warm eyes. He smiles, showing the malice beneath his so-called softness. “But you know, as well as I, that it will never be enough, don’t you?” A cruel spark livens his gaze. “Now come to me.”

I stiffen, but take a step, even though my will and resolve feel iron-clad. His malicious compulsion brings me before him in elegant footsteps, even as despair and shame flood my senses. The feelings washing over me alongside my unbearable love and long cherished hate.

“You appear just like the snow, beautiful but cold.” He lifts my chin with a single finger. “Where is the fiercely passionate soul that once defied and loved me?”

I glance at him, while avoiding his touch, my posture severe. “You killed the fiercely passionate love that I once was, when you tore my soulful heart from my body in exchange for your true immortality.” Raising my head, my grey eyes meet his without restraint. “No harm will befall you, because you coveted my once pure essence. You truly live up to your status as a lord of sin. Yet despite sinful pride, I will never serve you willingly. We both know that every time you manipulate my love for you, never allowing it to fade, it only reminds us both that my disgust for you is growing. My love has become nothing but a shadow.”

Although determined not falter, and used to hearing his taunting words, my heart still yearns for the not so distant past, yet I know that I’ll always remain as his almost empty shell. My days spent amusing him as his puppet will be infinite, as is his will, for my monstrous immortality is also of his making.

His hand grasps my neck, but I don’t flinch. “You willingly fell in love with me, but I have no intention of letting you escape, Wren.” He squeezes, causing me to choke as the tightness in my throat thickens. Tears blur my vision, my eyes closing as I refuse to let him rejoice at the sight of my pain.

“You belong to me, little bird... And I always take care of my possessions.”

I feel his breath as his forehead rests against mine. The act that I once thought loving, is truly nothing more than another way to toy and torment me. His perverse sense of control, his finest amusement. Keeping my eyes closed, I almost smile when I think of my past, fluttering heart. Now there isn’t a single beat, and for the first time in a while I feel almost grateful.

“Very well, little bird, I think it’s time for you to return to your cage.” His soft whisper ghosts over my cheeks, just as I open my eyes, I’m thrown back into a tree. I feel my neck snap and blood trickling down the side of my face as my vision wavers. Darkness drags me under, dread and the anticipation of longing flooding my senses as though I’m drowning. I watch as scarlet rivulets soak into the snow, until I’m floating in the blackness so familiar to me.