The Raven and the Rose

The Death of The Raven(Final Chapter 2)

Days passed since the Raven King was taken prisoner, and while the kingdom of Thaloria found peace in the fall of the Shadow Ravens, Chahrazad's heart felt more tangled than ever. She had justice, yes, but not rest. Every morning reminded her of Lyra, the sister she'd lost, and the Raven King—the man she had once loved—awaited his execution, destined to follow his father's tragic path.

Unable to ignore the ache any longer, Chahrazad gathered her courage one gray afternoon and went to the prison. Her fingers brushed over a small basket of bread and water as she walked through the cold, stone hall. The flickering torchlight revealed the Raven King's shadowed figure, bound in iron and pale from days spent behind bars. His shoulders slumped, yet his gaze still held fragments of the once-feared man he'd been.

"Raven King," she called softly. Her voice barely carried.

He looked up, eyes dulled but still piercing. "You came," he whispered, his voice raw and broken.

She steadied herself, setting down the basket. "I brought you food. Water."

He chuckled softly, though it held no joy. "I don't deserve your kindness, Chahrazad."

"Maybe not," she replied, though her words wavered. "But I wanted to see you. To...understand."

His hand shook as he reached for the bread, and her gaze fell to the dirt caked on his skin, his gaunt frame. It was a far cry from the powerful figure she remembered. "Understand what?" he murmured, not looking at her.

Chahrazad took a shaky breath. "Why, after everything, I still care for you—even if I can never forgive you." Her words caught in her throat. "You took everything from me, but... I can't deny that part of me still aches for the man I thought you were."

The Raven King looked up; his expression clouded with grief. "I never wanted your hatred, but I deserved it." His voice broke. "I wanted vengeance for my father, but in doing so, I became worse than those who wronged him. I became a monster in the shadows."

Silence filled the cell, thick and heavy. Chahrazad clenched her fists, willing herself not to feel sympathy. Yet she could see the brokenness in his eyes, a glimpse of the man hidden beneath the deeds. She turned sharply, hiding the tears that threatened to spill.

The day of his execution came too soon. Thaloria's streets were filled with villagers jeering, throwing stones, and spitting as the Raven King was led through the crowd. Chahrazad stood silently at the edge, her face unreadable, her heart in turmoil. She watched him struggle down the path, his head lowered, and every step he took twisted her heart further. She wanted to look away yet couldn't. She had to see this through to the end.

As the guards brought him before the crowd, the executioner raised his axe, waiting for the priest to ask the Raven King for his final words.

The priest cleared his throat. "Any last words, traitor?"

The Raven King raised his head, his gaze drifting through the crowd until he found her, a faint smile softening his features. "I'm sorry, Chahrazad," he said, his voice barely audibles over the silence. "I never meant to bring you pain. I only wish I could tell you... I love you."

The words shattered her. Anger, grief, and love all fought within her, each emotion raw and unbearable. She looked to the executioner, who adjusted his grip, and something inside her broke. She couldn't let this end here—not like this. She took a deep breath, drawing her sword with a fierce resolve.

"Stop!" Her voice rang clear through the square.

The crowd fell silent, startled. The executioner looked to her in confusion as she approached. The Raven King's gaze never left hers, resignation fading into something softer, hopeful even, as she reached him.

Chahrazad met his eyes, steadying her hand as her sword lifted to his neck. "This is for Lyra," she whispered, voice choked with unshed tears. Her heart felt torn as she brought down her blade in a swift motion, ending his life before the executioner could.

For a moment, the world felt still. Then the crowd erupted in shouts and gasps. "Long live Lady Chahrazad!" someone cried. "Justice has been served!"

But she couldn't share in their joy. As his body slumped, she felt an overwhelming emptiness. She knelt beside him, her hand brushing against his, knowing that forgiveness would never ease her pain, but that her act of mercy had perhaps saved them both. Her heart felt hollow, but she took solace in knowing she had fulfilled her duty to her sister.

When she rose, the people cheered, chanting her name. She walked away, shoulders heavy with the weight of loss and closure, knowing she would forever carry the scars of both love and vengeance.

The end.