The Queen's Prophecy || ON HOLD ||

T h r e e | Daggers and Magic

---------☼︎♔︎☼︎---------

THANATOS IS MAGIC GONE WRONG.

The realization dawns the moment I advance towards his heart, dagger in hand magicked from the pocket of my dress. But all he does is simply grab my wrist millimetres before it could pierce through fabric and skin. His touch is gentle yet firm enough to keep me from prompting a killing blow, but it's what I don't feel that alarms me.

His aura sucks in the rawness of my wild, untamed powers like a vacuum until there's nothing left except for the electric feel of his warm, frustratingly soft, bloodied fingers wrapped around my hand.

I refuse to acknowledge the panic extending its arms to seize me, refuse to relish how terribly freeing it feels for once to not be suffocated by those infinite powers. How if I never had them. . . .

No no no. Focus!

I try to yank my hand away at the same instant he tugs my wrist ahead. The catastrophe of the opposing actions has me veering forward in a jolt due to his stronger physical strength.

My face leans so close to his that I could spot the smoothness of his skin, the sharp cut angles of his face, smell the heady musk scent of his body and above all else, I could see his surprised, slightly widening eyes bright and clear.

Momentarily, I'm struck into oblivion because I've never seen anything like this.

His eyes. . .

They're both of different colours.

The right one is a light lemon green, like that of a black cat's prowling in the night. The left is an icy blue so vibrant it would rival the deepest of frozen seas. There are tiny flecks of silver in both of his irises, like stars on a fading midnight sky, barely noticeable but still there.

They make him look beautiful.
They make him look dangerous.

There's an intrigued gleam burning behind those mismatched eyes as he frowns down at me with disapproval, attempting to pry the dagger out of my hand with a gentleness that'd fool one to believe he means well, "Why the angst? Tell me, have I inconvenienced you somehow?" A sensual drawl of a question, the former surprise of my face close to his flickered out.

Inconvenienced?

Ofcourse, he doesn't remember ruining someone's life. Possibly because he's butchered so many, he must've lost count. Four years I'd spent suffering and he didn't even give it a thought.

I feel like a fool. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to hurt him, kill him. I wanted to rip him into shreds and feed him to the Hell hounds.

The beast inside of me roars for blood, begs me to unleash and shatter everything and everyone, to become as emotionless as he is.

Although the more I try to switch into my powers, the more I seem to fuel Thanatos with it until clarity sinks.

He's feeding on my powers.

The thought makes me livid. Makes me want to erupt into flames.

Using the defence fighting trick that always works—fisting my now bare palm into a rock, I prompt them forward in his grasp. When Thanatos attempts to catch their movement, I twist my wrist and wring it free with one quick, forceful yank.

While he's still distracted from the move, fast as lightning, I wrench free my dagger from his hand and stab him.

Square. In. The. Side. Of. His. Neck.