Lidiya Witchain - the forgotten bride

Fate and it's plans

Zidane's gaze hardened as he continued his story, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and regret. "You need to understand, Lidiya, I never wanted to kill Oswen. But fate… it had other plans."

He raised his hand again, and the sand swirled, reshaping the past into a vivid, moving image. Lidiya watched as the scene unfolded before her, like a memory relived. This time, it showed the final moments between Zidane and Oswen.

It was late afternoon, the sun casting long shadows across a vast field of tall, dry grass near the edge of Roxana. Zidane, his silver hair whipping in the wind, stood face to face with Oswen. The two men, once locked in a fateful struggle for power and revenge, now circled each other, tension crackling in the air.

Oswen looked ragged, his clothes torn and dirtied, but his eyes were wild with defiance. Zidane, on the other hand, appeared composed, though there was a storm brewing beneath his surface. Lidiya could see the fire in his eyes, the same fire that he had learned to control since birth.

The sand shifted, creating the illusion of flames flickering at the edges of the field. Zidane clenched his fists as he narrated.

"I tracked him down to the outskirts of the village," he said, his voice low. "I was angry, furious even, but I didn’t come to kill him. I wanted answers. I wanted justice for Aurora."

The image showed Zidane confronting Oswen, his hands crackling with faint embers of magic. He demanded the truth about Aurora’s death, his voice echoing with a fury that reverberated in the dry, still air. But Oswen only sneered, mocking Zidane’s pain.

"Your wife? She was nothing more than a fool," Oswen spat, his voice dripping with malice. "She got in the way, and now she’s dead. And you, Zidane, are no better. You’re a bastard, a mistake in the royal bloodline. You think you’re so powerful? Your magic is nothing compared to the schemes of a true royal."

Zidane’s hands twitched, and the embers at his fingertips flickered brighter, but he held back. He wasn’t going to let his rage take over. Not yet.

"I warned him," Zidane continued, his voice tight. "I told him to leave, to disappear from Roxana forever. But he just laughed. He laughed and called me a coward, saying I couldn’t even avenge the woman I loved."

The wind picked up in the sand's image, rustling the dry grass in the field. Zidane could see the fire dancing at his fingertips, fighting to break free, but he held it back with every ounce of his willpower.

"I lost control," Zidane admitted, his voice breaking slightly. "For just a moment. My anger slipped through. But it was enough."

In the vision, Zidane’s frustration finally got the best of him. He thrust his hand toward the ground in a sudden, involuntary motion, sending a small spark of fire into the dry grass beneath Oswen’s feet. The fire was not meant to harm him—it was a warning, a way to show him Zidane’s power and the consequences of his actions.

But in the blink of an eye, that spark ignited the brittle grass, sending flames racing through the field, crackling and spreading with terrifying speed. The wind whipped the fire into a frenzy, and in seconds, it had surrounded Oswen.

"I didn’t mean for it to happen," Zidane said, his voice hoarse with regret. "I tried to stop it. But the fire... it spread too fast."

In the sand’s vision, Zidane could be seen frantically summoning his magic, trying to pull the fire back, to extinguish the flames that now engulfed the field. But it was too late. Oswen, panicking, stumbled backward, the heat of the flames licking at his clothes. He tried to run, but the fire was too fast.

Suddenly, Oswen tripped, his foot catching on a loose stone, and he tumbled toward the edge of a nearby cliff, where the field dropped off into a steep ravine with a river below. The flames closed in on him as he scrambled to his feet, but in his haste, he slipped again, this time over the edge of the cliff.

Zidane watched in horror as Oswen fell, his body twisting in the air before plunging into the river far below with a sickening splash. The fire crackled around Zidane, but all he could hear was the roar of the river as it swallowed Oswen whole.

"I ran to the edge," Zidane whispered, the memory still haunting him. "I tried to save him, Lidiya. I swear I did. But by the time I got there, he was already gone. The river had taken him."

The image in the sand faded, the flames and the field disappearing, leaving only Zidane and Lidiya standing in the present. Zidane lowered his hand, and the sand stilled once more.

"It was an accident," Zidane said, his voice heavy with sorrow. "I never meant for him to die like that. But... maybe it was fate. Maybe it was justice for Aurora. I don’t know anymore."

Lidiya stood there, her heart pounding in her chest. She had come seeking answers, and now that she had them, she wasn’t sure what to feel. Oswen’s death hadn’t been murder, but it hadn’t been an act of pure innocence either. It was a tragic twist of fate, driven by anger, pain, and a momentary loss of control.

Zidane looked at her, his eyes searching hers for understanding. "Do you see now?" he asked softly. "I’m not a monster, Lidiya. I’ve made mistakes, but I never wanted to hurt anyone. Not like this."

Lidiya’s breath hitched as she processed everything. The man standing before her wasn’t just the villain she had painted him to be. He was broken, haunted by a past he could never escape.

And as much as she wanted to hate him, part of her couldn’t. Because in the end, they were both victims of a cruel, unforgiving world.

Zidane left her there and proceeded towards the cottage. Lidiya was about to follow her but was shocked and taken aback by the sound of a gunfire.