Chapter 34- What I Had Forgotten
It was all flashing before my eyes. In reality, it was probably only a few seconds but to me, it felt as if I were being forced to re-live all of these tragedies.
“I’m sorry,” I repeatedly whispered out with a shaky voice.
“It’s all my fault,” I gulped back the sobs and simply stared at the sight of all my fellow mages dying while trying to protect the humans, I simply watched since I couldn’t do anything else.
I should have done something. I should have been there with them and I should have died with them. Why was I the only one that survived? Why would Arturo do this to me?
What made him think that I would want to live through eternity all alone?
With a sigh, I opened my eyes.
It was darkness, with nothing in my line of vision except for when I closed my eyes, that’s when all the forgotten memories came to slap me in the face.
What good was I if I wasn’t able to save the lives of the people I cared for? My family, the mages, Arturo and Atticus. What was I doing while they were dying?
Groaning, I closed my eyes and the image of Atticus dying on the battlefield overwhelmed me to the point where I was unable to open my eyes again and so, I was forced to relieve this horrid memory.
So close. I had been so close to being free but it was my own foolishness that pushed the dream away for another 300 years. If I had only been able to save him.
“Be safe, okay?” He patted my head as we sat on the back of our horses, getting ready to depart to the front lines.
“I should be saying that to you,” I chuckled and he chuckled along with me.
“After this is over, I promise. You’ll be free,” He smiled, whipping the reigns on the horse and I was quick to follow him, running onto the battlefield with a cry of war.
No one would have ever guessed.
Holding Achillies in his hand, Atticus flew threw the field covered in red, chopping people in half on the way, not stopping to breathe and moving with the flexibility of a young man in his prime even though he was getting old now.
I was on the other side of the field, assisting the other men in the fight and trying to prevent as many deaths as I could with either my magic or my body.
I cried out in pain as one of the enemy soldiers pushed a sword through my chest.
“Die, witch!” He screamed in rage.
“Don’t call me... a witch,” I spat out, pulling the sword out of me and throwing it away. Fisting my hand and pushing it forward to punch him in the stomach and he went flying back a good few feet.
I huffed and wiped the sweat away from my forehead with the back of my hand, looking down at the open wound going through me and watched as it quickly healed up.
How many times have I gotten stabbed with either an arrow or a sword? My body was getting used to it quickly and therefore started healing quicker every time it happened.
I didn’t like wars.
I didn’t like seeing the sight of dead bodies laying over each other, chopped into unrecognisable pieces, questioning if it had even been the body of a human.
But even then I killed.
Because this is war.
Even if I refused to kill though, Atticus was doing it for me by using Achilles. What was the difference? Part of my consciousness is in there after all and I can’t get it out.
But that was going to change soon. After this battle ends.
My gaze locked onto my wielder and I watched him getting tired, digging the sword into the ground and leaning over it to catch his breath.
I turned my head away when I sensed a soldier coming to attack but it only took that small second for it to all go downhill.
A scream of anguish.
It wasn’t mine, it wasn’t the soldiers, it came from the other side of the field but I heard it loud and clear.
In the next second, I quickly pointed at Achillies and felt myself vanish into it, jumping back out to appear right beside Atticus who had been holding the sword. Holding the hilt, I propelled myself up to jump and kicked back all the soldiers that ran towards us.
It was too late though.
Even after I had gotten rid of over half of the enemy troops.
I had been too late.
I should have been paying more attention.
He had three swords digging through one side of him and coming out the other side. He was dead before I could even scream his name.
I didn’t even get to mourn, to apologise or do anything because barely half a minute had passed and I felt the familiar tingles wash over my body as I was being pushed back into Achilles.
I had screamed and thrashed, gripping onto anything that was in sight but it didn’t work. I faded into golden particles and disappeared back into the sword which was transported away to a different location upon being sealed.
It was all my fault.
He died because of me.
With a sigh, I opened my eyes again and was met with the familiar darkness of my world. I fell back and stared up, not wanting to close my eyes for more memories to wash over me.
And now... I had been summoned again, by none other than King Vincenzo, the ruler of Lysandra. Who would have thought? What kind of coincidence is this?
He was different though, from all my other wielders, he was different.
He acted, dressed and looked like a King but there were instances where I would see him flash with the normality of a person who didn’t carry an entire Kingdom on his back.
It was those moments that sent my heart beating faster than it should. Those moments where his lips would tilt up into a smirk, where he would ruffle my hair, put his hands on my waist and pick me up or when his lips would rest against my forehead.
Unconsciously, my hand went up to touch the place on my forehead where he kissed.
It was weird. What was so special about him? What was it about him that differentiated him among every other person I’ve met? I didn’t understand.
I wanted to be with him, I wanted to be a free person with him.
But that can’t happen.
Vincenzo wasn’t a normal person.
He never stayed with only one woman. If I were to tell him that I liked him then he’d start treating me differently and not in a good way, I didn’t want that.
From the moment we first met, he seemed perfect but it was when I realised that he wasn’t perfect and those imperfections of his led me to admire him. At what point that admiration turned to love, I can’t decipher.
He so effortlessly walked into my life as if he always belonged there, he sparked a flame in my broken soul, picked my lips up in a smile and reminded me what it felt like to be happy. I had forgotten what it felt like to laugh before I met him.
But I can’t be with him.
I rocked myself back and forth, resting my chin on my knees and waited to regain consciousness. How long will I have to be trapped here? It’s dark and lonely and I didn’t like it.
As if hearing that, everything began to fade and I fell back, my mind completely blank.
The next time I opened my eyes, I felt like death.