Maia thought death was the end, until the alluring Nix brothers summon her back to life. Now, she must embrace her newfound existence as she is thrust into a dark prophecy that could unravel their cursed fate.
With each step, Maia is inexplicably dr...
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Nobody kills themselves because of mare external influences, but because of the turbulence and imbalance of their interior being.
As they say, death is something utterly disgusting; it's essentially the only obsession that cannot become elating. Even if I wanted to kill myself, I did it with an implicit regret in regards to my desire.
I wanted to die. But I was sorry that I wanted to die.
If I were to be honest, I didn't know why I was alive, and why I didn't cease to exist.
I felt like the most disgustingly horrid being that had ever existed. I felt like an apocalyptic beast engulfed in flames and in darkness, in ardour and in despair. I was an abomination with a grotesque smile, which boiled up inside itself until illusion, and it expanded itself with no end.
I died and grew at the same time, bewitched by all and nothingness, between oblivious hope and the despair of everything, blooming amongst perfume and poison, burnt by love and loathing, perishing under light and darkness.
I was told there are no suicides that come from rational decisions, and none from deep reflections on the worthlessness of the world or the nothingness of life itself.
As I made my way behind the mourning crowd, I couldn't feel Rex's touch anymore.
I was cold.
Coming to the realization of what I had done left me with no use to reason with myself.
Kore was walking in front of me. His scrawny trembling arms held onto his mother's small frame that seemed to have lost any source of strength. Tears rushed down her wrinkled skin, dragging down those deep bruised dark circles that seemed to grow with no end under her eyes. She repeatedly hit her fist against her chest, and sobbed words of despair for the man she loved, whom she'll never see again.
I felt my ribcage pressing against my lungs, tightening around my heart, and I couldn't breathe.
I couldn't feel Rex's hand anymore, nor his embrace.
And then, there it was, right before my eyes, the images of her husband, my hands tainted with his blood. His screams, echoing in my ears.
But I didn't stop.
The stench of dead flesh. Blood. Decay. And wet soil.
Screams.
"My brother is worried for you, you know," said Crassus, and I blinked disoriented when I realized I was inside Rex's tent. "I don't think I am in any position to tell you what to do," he sighed, his jaw tightening. "I know that much. But you don't know what he sacrificed to keep you here."
"What?"
"You don't look well," he remarked, putting down the braided basket he was working on, looking my way. "And I can smell death lingering on your."
