Shatter Me Twice

XII

RHEA
Darkness, infinite darkness.

I opened my eyes, my body lying on a cold, hard floor. I blinked, disoriented, trying to make sense of my surroundings. Everything was pitch black, a darkness so deep it felt almost suffocating.

Almost immediately, ahead of me, I saw it — a light. A brilliant, blinding glow that shone like a doorway. Immense and overwhelming, radiating with a force that made my heart tremble. I knew instantly where I was.

I was in the presence of the Creator.

Slowly, I pushed myself up from the floor, my limbs trembling as I stood on shaky feet. I took a hesitant step toward the light ahead, each movement feeling like a monumental effort.

I paused, my breath shallow and cold, my mouth slightly ajar as I drew in a deep, desperate gulp of air, filling my lungs as if they hadn't tasted breath in a lifetime. It was the sensation of someone who had been on the brink of death—or perhaps, someone who had just clawed their way back from it.

I had died. I died.

A mirror appeared beside me, materializing from the bottom up as if being conjured from the very air itself. It hovered just above the ground, its surface shimmering like water caught in moonlight. But instead of reflecting my image, it revealed something far more unsettling—a continuation of what transpired after my death.

There, as I lay on the cold ground in the darkness of the night, surrounded by the forest's silent embrace, I closed my eyes. My lifeless body was illuminated before me, a haunting reflection of my own demise. Iyan knelt beside my still form, his hands tenderly lowering my head with a gentleness that sent a sharp pang through my chest. I felt the weight of death lingering around me, my gaze fixated on the open wounds, the raw, exposed skin, and the blood pooling around me, unable to tear myself away from the sight.

After a moment, Iyan stood up, leaving the knife lodged in my flesh. He hesitated, glancing back at me. Then, with a swift, deliberate motion, he extracted the blade from my womb. He wiped the knife clean with a steady hand before rising to his feet, his actions cold and deliberate.

I continued to watch, the hollowness inside me growing ever deeper. Iyan glanced around the forest one last time, his eyes sweeping over the shadows and the silent trees. Then, with a final, deliberate look, he turned and began walking away, heading back towards the distant palace.

It was as if I was watching television, with the revelation of all that transpired being played for me. The day my lover killed me was indeed the day of my wedding and his coronation as king. The day that should have been filled with joy and celebration, a day that I would have been the happiest woman in all four kingdoms and not for the gold or gifts or the noble title but for being one with the man who stole my heart, but now it was a day to be remembered only in death.

I saw him return to the palace.

Faces blurred as people moved about, their voices merging into a distant hum. His mother spoke to him, but her words slipped past like a fleeting whisper. Everything sped by, like a time-lapse that I absorbed in fragments. Then, I watched his coronation—a swift, almost surreal event. He ascended the steps, took the crown, and repeated the vows. The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, their voices echoing hollowly in my ears.

The next event was to be our wedding on that same day. But I was dead. Did no one wonder about the bride's absence? Did no one look for me?

Then I saw her, standing at the front of the crowd. Her hair was as dark as the night sky, and her skin glowed like molten gold. I recognized her immediately; my eyes were fixed on her for the longest time.