The Crystal in the Chasm

chapter 41

Red. It was all I could see. I didn't know what happened. All I could recall was the moment I noticed the tattoos on his knuckles. The tattoos on his knuckles. The tattoos on his knuckles. My mind was fraying to bits and pieces, my sanity fading with it. Grimm... My Grimm. Death Bringer. I should have known. I should have known. Gods. He was dead. For real this time. Death Bringer was Grimm all along. My mate. My fucking mate. His blood. Everywhere. The silence. Unbearable. Then there was screaming. Red. All I saw was red.

A hand was tugging me back into my body, the pressure focused on my shoulder. Blood, so much blood. Bodies everywhere. My soul, seeping through the cracks. This is what dying felt like. The aching, breaking, my heart freezing over. His head. Feet away. Cloaked by a sack. My fingers; trembling. My body; trembling. When the red left my vision, I saw what I had done. The entire kingdom saw what I had done. Blood in my mouth, on my chin, running down my neck. The bodies of the two guards. Ripped to shreds. Limbs torn from limbs, bones broken from bones. I couldn't think. I couldn't feel. I wasn't sure if I was breathing. I could taste the blood of his murderers on my tongue. Flashes came back to me in pieces. My teeth sinking into a throat. Tearing. Skin ripping and flaying in my mouth. The screams of terror and pain. The sound of bone snapping as I squeezed, as I ripped and shattered their bodies as if they were nothing but an outlet for my never-ending rage. Nothing made it better. Not even when their cries dissipated. Especially not when I glanced over my shoulder, my vision blurry, a massive crowd below the hill of corpses peering up at me like the monster I was. The monster I had finally become.

Onyx was standing beside me, her face twisted in pain. Her hand was on my shoulder, squeezing me, centering me back into my body. I had just killed two fae males with my bare hands, so easily that I couldn't even recollect it happening. My vision finally fell to the reddening sack that contained his head. I fell to my knees. My chest caved. My heart gave out. A desperate, primal cry spilled from my bloody mouth as I crawled to him. I reached his body first, slinging it into my arms as the heaviness weighed me down into the corpses. The arrows ripped from his arms in a swift motion before I carelessly tossed them to the side. I unbound his ties then I held his cold hands, stroked his lifeless fingers between mine, and sobbed into his chest. His quiet heart. Death Bringer. Grimm Hastings. Dead. My mate. My mate. My mate. This was it. The world was really ending. His castle was still alight with roaring flames in the distance, towering over me like a ghost as I dragged his body toward where his head had rolled and gritted my teeth as I struggled to position the pieces back together. I didn't take the sack off yet. I couldn't.

I propped his severed head with my shaking hands against his bleeding neck. The smell, it was unbearable. I was gagging and sobbing. I couldn't hear what Onyx was saying as the bile rose from my throat. I was profusely vomiting all over myself and all over the bodies beside us. Then I was wiping the corners of my mouth on my cloak, my forehead falling against where his heart was. The tears were an endless stream, enough to drain and then refill the seas we both once sailed together over. There was nothing left for me. I was nothing. My other half. He was more me than I was myself. He and I were the same. We were the same. He told me so. He sent it into my mind all of those times but I was too stupid, too selfish, too ignorant to notice. I should've listened. I should've told him how I felt. He died without knowing the truth. I loved him. With my entire being, with every beat of my heart, I loved him. I always had and I always would.

Snot was dripping from my nose. I was a mess, a melting puddle of nothing on top of a mound of gore. I didn't know anything could ever be this painful. My hands didn't feel like my own as they pulled off the fabric that was cloaking his head. I was breaking. I couldn't feel my own body except for where his cold skin met my fingertips. Those blue eyes. Those marvelous blue eyes, open and frozen in time. His face was neutral, as if he were not afraid, as if he was ready to die. He knew I wouldn't be able to save him. He knew it was over. He knew I would fail when it mattered the most. The absolute most. I would never recover from this. I stroked my hand down his flawless face, running my finger across his sharp jaw. My tears fell onto his skin as I helped his eyes shut.