Collaterals

The Day Before, and the Day Before.

The sun was setting upon the field, flowers falling onto her from the low-branching tree. She looked to the horizon, savoring the red, orange and pinks of dusk.

"I was beginning to think you would not join me," his voice felt far, even though Leila knew he was but two steps behind her.

Leila steadied a hand atop the thick bark of the tree, smiling stupidly at the white flower he'd gifted her. Although she could not remember when, Leila could not shake the feeling she'd said the words before, "It feels...out of place."

"Sometimes the rarest flowers go with the wind, find themselves where they are not native. Still, I think it quite a beautiful thing, for them to thrive nonetheless."

She smiled at the all too familiar words, feeling their warmth as they simmered into her heart. Leila turned, laughing at yet another flower held in his hands in offering. But this flower...it was different: it was red. A red rose. aAnd his hands...they were blood stained. Leila looked up at him in panic, stepping forward, "Khaled your hands— oh!"

Leila shrieked, stepping back. His eyes...gone was the earthy brown, overwhelmed by a vibrant glowing blue. His jaw hung open like a door falling forward on loosened hinges, and when his tongue rose, as though to speak, blood gushed out of it, splattering onto Leila before falling onto the ground.

"Blood is owed!" It was tat same damned voice from before, echoing as the blood pooled on the ground, rising faster than Leila could comprehend, till it was at her shoulders, at her chin, till she was barely keeping afloat.

And then she was drowning.

There was no where to swim, not with the undercurrent having grabbed hold of her, dragging her down so she was choking on the viscous red fluid, the feel of it stinging her eyes, slashing knives in her stomach, and feeding cold into her soul: cold. Why was the blood so cold?! As though repelled by her fear, the liquid expelled her, and no sooner had she taken a breath than her back had slammed into the paved floor beneath her. The sun, above her, was shining bright, birds whistling a tune she knew well. For a moment, just a moment, the breath she took was not shaky, and the feel of her chest, rising an falling, was not shakled by the weight of the heavy words, now so far away.

"Five must fall!"

Leila pushed herself onto an elbow, only to cringe at the feel of the ground beneath her: sticky, now, as the blood that spilled from her dress and splattered onto the ground had begun to dry under the sun. When Leila looked up, she was already on her feet, moving atop a paved road, the Hand's sash still crisply ironed as her people sang her praises. There, ahead of her, was the raised dais she knew held her family. This time, though, when the little girl handed her the rose, she did not continue her stride. No, this time, she followed the girl, hoping to find who's handed her the rose, who'd hidden the note. No one seamed to realize the Princess as she weaved her way through them, people practically stepping over one another, onto their tip-toes, trying to catch just a glimpse of the procession, of the Princess. It was...an odd feeling, but Leila did not dwell on it. She was used to being invisible, back in Tain, and it was rather easy to slip back into the status quo as she followed the girl. They went past the gathered folk, up and down bricked brdiges connecting streets parted by canals, through alleyways and markets, until they entered a tunnel. Here— where the sun's rays did not deign to shine, what little light there was having been provided by the few torches—the little girl did not run. No, she walked, her footsteps echoing as she made her way farther inside timidly.

Leila was, perhaps, too preoccupied— wondering how the girl did not fear the dark, did not fear the rats skittering by or the smell of death and rot hanging in the walls— that she had not noticed that her own feet hadn't made a single sound, that the yellow light of the lit torches did not bounce off her so that a shadow of her had silhouetted onto the ground. No, Leila only followed the girl as she apprached a figure, hooded in a navy blue robe. Leila felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. The girl did not shake in her apprehension, though, breaking into an excited runNow the girl run as she over in front of the hooded figure.