The Princess of Light and The Knight of Shadow

Past

The torrent of rain cascaded over her, drenching her armor and cleansing the blood from it. But the stink lingered, along with the guilt and sorrow.

How did it come to this?

"Leave." A single command, a lone plea, sharp and firm. It wouldn't be enough, she knew; they rarely listened, especially Thuri.

The others hesitated, but remained where they were standing, grasping their Animartas. Brave of them, but also foolish. Only pain awaited them here.

Thuri scowled, shaking his head. "Step aside, woman. This isn't about you."

Beside her, Faven growled. "Don't speak to my wife in such a manner, Thuri!" He tried to rise, but his bleeding right leg buckled under his weight.

She looked at him in concern, her heart tearing at the sight. How long had they been fighting? When she got here, he was already bleeding.

"Why do you defend her?" Thuri said. "She's a plague that has to be eliminated.

Faven gritted his teeth. "Without her, we'd all have died before we can finish our mission."

"Without her, the demon king wouldn't have risen and destroyed my country!" Thuri stabbed a finger in her direction. "And now she possessed the same power! She must be killed!"

She tensed as Faven whispered into her mind, Run.

With a roar, he surged on his feet, his greatsword appearing in his hand in a dazzling flash, charging at their former comrades—their friends—all in an attempt to protect her; she who sacrificed everything for the same man now laying down his life for her.

"Stop," she said weakly. But her plea fell on deaf ears, and the only sounds were the clash of steel amid the rumble of thunder.

Stop. This had to stop. No more deaths. Please, no more deaths!

She raised her Animarta, black as night, curling with shadows that clung to it like smoke—a stark contrast to Faven's brilliance. Different, opposite, but drawn to each other like a moth to the fire.

She couldn't let them snuff out that fire.

A scream, raw and rage-filled, tore from her lips. She charged, swinging at Pantos's neck. He looked surprised, and a measure of guilt passed over her heart. He was the kindest among them, the voice of reason that kept them from descending into squabble over the little things.

But he was no longer a friend; he attacked Faven. An enemy. And she would eliminate her/his/their enemies. She would hurt/defeat/kill them all!

And so she swung and lunged and weaved between the elements raging around her, a fury in her heart that could not be quenched until all of their enemies were dead and Faven was safe. Safe. Safe. She would keep him safe, even if it meant she must become a monster.

She didn't know how much time had passed. All she knew was Faven's cry of agony and the blade protruding from his shoulder, held by a victorious Thuri. What happened? She was protecting him, so why was her beloved bleeding still? Why, why, why?

"Arabella, cease this madness!" Damir, brave and just Damir, pleaded.

What madness? She looked at him, his hammer locked onto her sword. He was strong, but he could never beat her. They all couldn't, so they bullied Faven instead. A mistake that would cost them dearly.

"Arabella, please!" Damir pleaded again.

She didn't respond. Talking, diplomacy, kind words—they were past those now, a threshold they had willingly crossed. And for what? Because they feared her? Envious of what she and Faven shared?