𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡'𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨 | 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝟎.𝐈𝐈

Human blood possessed hardly any taste, but it had vitality.

It was an idle thought that came to mind as he disposed of the palace guards, emptiness clouding his thoughts. Every step he took towards what he wished to destroy only made him numb, as if every single one of his senses were building up to create something new. He took a step forward, never sparing a glance at those who parted to make a path in fear and walking on the bodies of those who dared get in his way.

This was a kingdom that made its name in righteousness yet stood atop pillars of destruction; now it had peace and serenity. No one thought about the ones who had been left behind, they only looked at those who made themselves known. But then again, even if they tried, they would likely be condemned the way they had been before.

He kept moving forward, one foot after the other, until he felt his body freeze. He tilted his head, deathly amber eyes peering up at the vast expanse above—spreading its mighty wings, a falcon soared through the sky.

Yet, soon enough, it began to fall towards the ground, its corpse devoid of life. Ejicio watched it all happen as a blur before turning away, all interest lost. He settled his foot on the first step of the stairs that led to the palace before suddenly freezing. His surroundings became silent and the air felt as if it were thinning, his surroundings becoming heavy and foreboding.

He pursed his lips and removed his foot, "Has this always existed?"

A cloaked figure strode past the lifeless people standing behind him and chuckled. Ejicio narrowed his eyes—he couldn't see anything past the hood, only pure darkness. The person stepped up the stairs and walked forward without problem, stopping before he got too far as if to mock him by doing something he couldn't, "You must be a foreigner; they all ask the same question."

"Who are you?"

The cloaked figure didn't respond, but he could imagine them smiling as they dissolved into black petals which soon turned to dust. He clenched his fist, turning around to see the cadavers standing behind him and he felt a burning sensation creep up from the back of his neck down to his spine—it was like the blazing inferno that had razed his country to the ground, it was like the fiery rage that had once burned him from the inside, it was like the sickly abhorrence that crept into his veins.

Perhaps he had seen the death he had been escaping all these years, or maybe it was the being that had clung to him ever since he had escaped.

He gritted his teeth, the scorching sensation spreading from the tip of his fingers throughout the rest of his body—the corpses suddenly collapsed, turning to ash at his feet. Ejicio crouched down, grabbing a fistful of the ash before letting it spill between his fingers like sand, its texture finer than silica.

All of it made him smile—death gave people beauty greater than what they could achieve within their measly lives.

It gave them importance.