Dust to Dust | ✓

6 || Two Are Better Than One

Aiko was drowning. Though she kneeled on dry land, clutching Felix's cloak against her chest, muffling her sobs in the tattered blue fabric, she was drowning. Her tears tasted salty when they landed on her tongue; her throat burned from screaming. The silence was suffocating, squeezing the air from her lungs until she had nothing left to cry with. Tremors wracked her body, and it was all she could do to curl up and cling to what he had left her.

Gone. Felix is gone. The words echoed in her mind, ringing over and over, roaring over the thundering of her heart in her ears. He's gone. Gone. Gone.

Wind howled through the trees and she flinched. Her eyes were closed and her face buried in the cloak, but she couldn't help but picture the haunting face of the Core Reaper. Its paper white skin, stretched too thin over its bony features. Hollow eye sockets that somehow seemed to peer straight through her, long fingers that were cold as ice against her skin. The lull of its voice drifted through her mind, dripping down her spine. Shadows wrapped it in a dark cloak, one that shifted and moved with its body. The same shadows that swallowed Felix.

A whimper forced its way through her clenched teeth. She couldn't remember the last time she had been truly alone. Mae had always been there, and when he wasn't anymore, she had Felix. There was only the time after her awakening when she was separated from either of them. Unlike that moment, however, he wouldn't be returning soon.

Felix was gone.

"Mae," she croaked, lifting her face from the cloak. Slowly, carefully, she extracted her hand from the wadded up cloak, reaching out to the shadowed line of trees. Tears blurred her vision, melding the forest into one dark blob. Her throat tightened painfully, but she swallowed against it and forced her voice to take shape. "Mae. Please, Mae. I'm calling you; can't you hear me?"

She paused, waiting for an answer, but nothing came. Defeated, she lowered her hand. "You're supposed to come when I call you," she whispered.

It had always worked in the past. He had always come when she called for him, tail waving and azure eyes glittering. Despite what he wanted, he was always there for her. Always walking at her side, sleeping on her pillow at night, lighting her lanterns with his eerie blue flames, mewling for attention when she stared at her books too long. He was always there to help, so she was never truly alone.

But now he lay rotting in the throne room, glassy eyes staring at nothing. His flame had been snuffed out; death now cradled him in the void that waited beyond life. She didn't even get to stop to bury him. He was doomed to turn to dust with the rest of the castle.

Another sob tore from her lips as her tears poured freely. "I can't do this alone," she cried, stretching her fingers toward the shadows. "Don't make me do this alone. What is the point of my freedom if there's no one for me to share it with?"

The world was cruel and offered no response. Cold wind raked her skin and stirred up the leaves, but its haunting melody brought no comforting words. Moonlight caressed her as it slowly faded, making way for the sun, but it was of no more help than the wind. There was nothing the forest could do for her—it was nothing more than a witness to her shame and tragedy. Like the Core, perhaps they mocked her too.

But even though the Core mocked her, it never left her. She was always wrapped in its presence, controlled by its will, held in its talons. Her breath hitched at the reminder—the memory of the warmth she used to have. Pushing herself upright, she brought a hand to her chest. The steady rhythm of her heartbeat pulsed against her palm, and paired with it, she found the flickering warmth of her soul's flame. Weaker without the Core, but still there. Still bright, still living, still thriving.