The fall

Chapter 21

Penelope

Three days ago.

I stood there, frozen, my heart pounding in my chest as I hovered over Mr. Laurens lifeless body. The silence in the room was deafening as only heard the sound of my deep breaths. I had just shot him in the head, then stabbed his face multiple times before dragging him into the living room. The room started smelling a metallic thick smell.

I took a step closer, my heels sinking to the floor. As I held the dagger in my hand and my gun staying at my side. I had never imagined I could do something like this—something took over me, and I killed him. I gave him a cold and gruesome death. His body looked cold and unmoving, a stark reminder that this is where traitors end up.
Traitors get executed.

The blood pooled beneath him, dark and thick as It stained my heels and soon the carpet. He was actually gone—no more power, no more commands, no more arrogance and manipulation. Just an empty shell of a coward who used to lead the Sylvanian's to victory.

I felt the blood on my skin slowly dry—It smeared all over me after I stabbed him. It was on my hands, arms, even my face—My clothes were stained in the thick liquid of crimson. The fabric that was once white, was now a sickening shade of red.
Yet I didn't care.

I did all this—I did all of this. I crossed a line, a point of no return. There was definitely no turning back now. Not after what I had just done, I killed a Lauren. One of the prestigious families in sylvan, which was a sin.
And yet, as I stood there, gazing at his beaten to pulp of a face—I felt no fear. No regret. Only a cold realization that I was beyond redemption.

...

I walked towards the mantra forest, my steps slow and tired—yet each one of my steps following the last without thought. The path stretched ahead, a line of dirt and grass leading into the trees. I didn't pay attention to the distance, to the changing in light, or to the sounds of the sinners roaming around.
It all was just annoying background noise, I just kept walking. Exorcising the creatures in my path with one snap of my fingers. Never in my right mind have I ever been able to do that, especially when it's not a full red moon.

My mind was somewhere far away, or maybe nowhere at all. I didn't feel the shift in the air as I moved further from Sylvan's border, the change in the landscape began to change, it turned colder. I just kept walking, one step after another, until the ground beneath my heels grew different. Harder. Smoother.

It wasn't until I glanced up and saw the subtle marker in the distance. My dagger dripping of Mr. Laurens blood onto the snow that I realized I had crossed the entire forest into the Valort boarder.

I take another step, might aswell kill the whole Valortorian population. But I immediately step back when something swift cut through the air—I jerked backwards, instinctively dodging just in time as it almost hits me. I look up, to see two soldiers standing just a few paces away, their weapons aimed directly at me.

One of them yells, "It's a sylvanian! An evol user, execute her!"
Those words hit like a punch, I reach for my sword through the thin air—about to summon it, but before I could move, another voice cut through the tension.

"Hold your fire!"

A tall man with broad shoulders and blond hair with a pair of round glasses stepped forward, his voice firm, almost commanding. He wore a doctor's coat over suit, the kind of attire that looked out of place in midst of all of this. His gaze shifted from his soldiers to me his eyes narrowing as If studying me like I was something rare.

"But doctor Fray—" one of the soldiers began to protest.

"I said hold it, Dexter," the man interrupted, his voice brokering no arguement. He took a step closer, his eyes scanning me with a strange intensity. "I haven't seen someone like you, in a very, very long time." He murmured, as if he's to himself while gesturing to my red hair. Then his eyes locked onto mine, and I could feel the weight of his scrutiny. "I thought we lost the Dorothea project."

I stepped back, my pulse pounding in my ears. The words hung in the air like a heavy fog. Dorothea project? I didn't know what it meant, especially with my last name. But something about him was telling me that he was being honest and it made my skin crawl.
My hand instinctively reached for the hilt of my sword, fingers trembling as I tried to summon it. The familiarity giving me some fleeting sense of control. But as I gripped the handle, about to slash the enemy, something inside me faltered.
The exhaustion, the tension of the adrenaline that was building up finally caught up to me.

My vision started to blur, the voices, the soldiers, the man in the doctor's coat—they all became distant, muffled. I barely heard what he was saying as I slowly felt myself collapse.
"Get the...grab the—carry her...inside—!"
Then and there the darkness swallowed me whole, my knees buckled and the last thing I remember was the icy cold snow hitting my skin.