Skin of Flames

Chapter 2: Neavea Haebstus

Neavea pushes the door with her heart palpitating with fear of what she is about to see. Her heart threatens to come out of her chest, rubbing her sweaty palms, she enters only to witness — the most dreadful sight.

There lay her mother on the floor, her beautiful white dress stained with blood, her blond hair now grey, her lips looking pale and a sword in her stomach. She stares at her mother, looking numb, not knowing what to do. Her mother who shows her love, kindness, care; she is no more again. Gone, forever, not ever coming back. Her eyes shine with sadness as she falls to her knees, her heart too heavy to contain what she feels right now.

Crawling to touch her mother that she craves for right now. Drop by drop, her tears come flowing down, she takes her mother's hand wrapping it with hers. She feels cold, not warm, realization dawns on her; she is dead.

Shouting in agony and pain, her heart clenching in pain, the tears come rushing out like a rock which is just being struck and water gushes out. Her head rests on her mother's hand as her body vibrates with sobs. She sniffs at the thought of now being an orphan; there is no way she will go to the man that left her mom, not now or never.

“Neave.” She raises her head hearing her grandfather's voice, she wipes her tears before standing up. Her eyes widen taking in his appearance. His white robe now dirty red, different kinds of knives pierced in his body. How he is still alive with all these things blows her mind.

Her legs move slowly to her grandfather, her hands on her mouth; trying to control her sobs. Whimpering, she pulls out one of the knives on his stomach, he winces at her actions.

She is about to pull another one, he holds her hand stopping her. She sniffs looking up to him, he gives her a little shake of the head. Using his thumbs to swipe her tears, his lips move; muttering a spell silently and the knives in him come out—clashing on the floor.

“Grandpa.” Her lips quiver, her eyes clouded with tears as she hugs him. “Everything will be alright, you will be fine, everything will be fine.” He says comforting her, bending down to reach her height.

“Hey, stop crying. Even if we are not related by blood, you are my blood. You are a Haebstus and we don't cry, tears are weakness, we are strong.”

She shakes her head disagreeing with her grandfather, “No papa, tears are not weakness. It is okay to cry sometimes, it shows you have feelings papa. It shows you care over that thing, that person. Bottling your feelings kills faster, let it out papa. Cry if you want to, just let it out.” Then he hugs her tightly and breaks into heavy sobs.

“I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for letting your mother die, I'm sorry that I'm going to leave you,” That catches her attention, she raises her head from his shoulder then stares at him. “Leave me? Where are you going to? You survived their attack, right?”

He snorts. “You are sounding like they are more powerful to kill me and I was just lucky to be alive when the actual truth is that their mere weapons, magic cannot affect. They are like an ant in front of the great Kyliran Haebstus.”

“Then why are you DYING?!”

He inhales then exhales before giving an answer. “I'm not immortal Neave, I'm bound to die. Even the powerful ones will die sometimes; that's why I used half of my life to make the Archaic's sword and lift up the curse on their land—they think killing me will stop the curse,” He bellows laughter. “How wrong they are, so wrong... The curse will only be lifted at my command only if I give up half of my soul, how foolish of me; lesson one: Don't say things without thinking. And lesson two: Don't make foolish promises like your mother or you will just end up like her. Understood?”