❝ do you remember the last thousand years? ❞
in a vicious melody spread through numerous lifetimes, a time warper spends the last thousand years trying to remember her lover and bring his soul back.
in exchange for the death of an undying god.
[base...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
0 0
i n d e f i n i t e
HIS BLOOD that had stained her sword had embedded itself within the crevices, no longer to be effaced.
No virtuous saint responded after a sunless horizon. If ever one did, they were not to be trusted, called upon, or bargained with. Whatever promise they would say they'll bring should not be believed — be it riches, glory, love, or eternal youth. But how human it is, for selfishness to always prevail.
Crimson draped the snow beneath her feet like silk, a stark contrast to its whiteness. The iron of her sword glistened under the moonlight, her hand encapsulating its now-red hilt. Lover, killer, ally, enemy — nothing had been bound to end without death.
Her hair as black as ink flew with the wind, a curtain to shield her face from anyone who could see her. Although, no one could possibly be so inane as to be at the forest at an ungodly hour. In truth, within the tresses of her soul, shame bloomed like cherry blossoms in the dead of winter. It was colder than the subzero air, colder than whatever harshness the winter god would blow her way.
Her father had once told her that she was born on the coldest day of the year, her cries had echoed through their village that had been blanketed by silence. She'd considered it many times, to die on a battlefield on the coldest day of the year, for it would be a noble end. Fighting for the country, the noblest ending an imperial general could have.
And yet, she did not feel noble. Nor did she feel brave. Her shoulders caved, after bearing the weight of a kingdom's defense, only to be met with this end. Her bones, tired and wan, crumpled into the small child that picked pockets in the streets and used bamboo sticks for training in the art of combat. And, for that moment, she was not a general, or a martyr, or a warper of time. She was only Yiko. Only human.
She knew of the creatures of blood, those that walked amongst shadows. Beings like her. Only, not exactly the same. Would they be merciful if they knew of her? Would they be kind, and welcoming? Or will they call her an abomination, a traitor to the crown, a spawn of the ten courts of hell? She'd wondered it many times, and always came up with the same answer.
Yes. No. She had no place in this world.
And he, the one who she had despised from the moment she'd laid her eyes on him, was lifeless. Because of her. Because of her shame and fear and craving for blood. Her fingers traced the flat of her sword, the redness such a pretty painting on her skin as she brought it to her mouth. The smell blurred her senses. The taste heavenly on her tongue. Oh, she could breathe once more.
Winter was when Yiko loved staying in the physical realm best. It was when everything was jagged and deadly, yet still remained beautiful. It was also the time when the wars fought were bloodiest. When killing was easiest, as no one would know. The death gods must be rejoicing during this unforgiving season.
Yet as his corpse stared up at her from the rotten snow, she dared to smile in satisfaction despite the longing of her entire being to kneel and beg the gods to bring him back to life. Perhaps, it was inevitable. That she would always become the killer of her lover. Her smile widened into a delightful grin.
Do you remember?
The golden luster of his hair was dull as the snow fell on the wicked landscape. A foreigner in foreign lands. Why had he even come? Why did his family have to ruin those she held dearest? Why did the emperor let him? Let them?
She loved him, she hated him, she revered him like one would a deity. So then, she fell to her knees on the ground, and sang a song of orison to the god of the sunless horizon to come for his soul. Funny how even in death, he was still magnificent.
Do you remember the last thousand years?
She let the darkness envelop her. Let the death god's laughter echo through the woods and fade into nothingness. It was then a given that, that winter night was the last she'd ever believe in them. Yes. Yes, I remember it all.
