'Till Death Do Us Part

a knight that belonged to the heavens

"That's the last of them." Gabel grunts, stomping his foot back on the ground.

Riftan watches the body of the giant ogre stumble over the cliff, down into the icy abyss whilst he lamented on the empty feeling within him, before setting his eyes back on the dilapidated camp.

Anyone could assess the situation and see that things were the opposite of good for Riftan and his army. One and a half year has passed since they began wandering the Lexos mountains. The cold was ruthless, the monsters endless, their spirits dimming... Riftan watched his men hunch over their seats with heavy bags under their eyes and wounds on their bodies, unable to do anything but continue marching into their deaths.

It's been the third time since they've been ambushed in the middle of resting. The barriers Ruth and the other few wizards are meant to be effective, but 'too many monsters' and 'not enough wizards' was beginning to be a problem.

Riftan barely even sleeps now, with every night's watch under his docket. Even then, he grits his teeth at the fact that men are still getting injured under his command. He didn't know if he wished he could split his body into multiple parts so he could do more things at once or if he was angry at the soldiers for their incompetence. There's also empathy there, as Riftan knew they were doing what they could. Not everyone had the bravery of a knight or the brutality of a mercenary. In any aspect, frustration grips him as he remembers the reason why they were forced into this situation in the first place.

"Gather all the supplies left and place them in the center of the camp! All soldiers who are not injured need to be on high alert! We don't know if there's still more of them." His booming voice echoes throughout, with the soldiers tiredly nodding like the broken ticking of an old clock.

"My balls will be falling off before reinforcements come." Hebaron grumbles tiredly, looking at everyone's blood-soaked armor.

Upon checking that everyone was in the process of rebuilding the camp well enough and that Ruth and the other archmagis were setting up foundations for a stronger barrier, Riftan turns on his heels and starts walking away.

"I'm going to wash myself."

Hebaron can only laugh tiredly. "Right, only you can take a bath in this freezing cold weather."

Riftan shakes his head, shedding his coat before marching through the thick foliage. The way his hair clung to the sweat and blood on the nape of his neck sent shivers down his spine, and he wanted to be alleviated of any thoughts of his nightmares. His breathing is heavy, with every exhale white as smoke against the cold, and after a minute of walking he reaches a frozen lake.

After undressing most of his armor as quickly as he could, it only takes a single punch for the ice to break, revealing the icy cold-water underneath. Riftan grits his teeth as the piercing cold water penetrates his skin, but it rinses all the blood off well enough. He was in no position to complain.

As the sunrise settles over the horizon, the land is drenched in a warm glow.

Riftan clenches his teeth as everything illuminates in a faint red, the hue shining against the crystal-like snow and bouncing off the frozen leaves.

He's starting to hate the color now, hates how it's almost in everything.

Because Riftan Calypse was a man who could do almost anything, but one thing he couldn't do was forget.

He absolutely hates how the day he has heard of her death felt like yesterday, hates how the pain doesn't seem to dampen. Riftan wonders why the ghost of a girl who saw him as a monster haunted him, why the seasons changed and the years have flown by and yet her lonely grey eyes still stayed as vivid as ever in his head. If he had the hands of an artist, he knew he was able to paint her image using nothing but his memory. Maybe it would alleviate some of the burning sorrow within him, and yet his hands are rough and calloused. They only knew how to destroy and kill.