The Siege of Shadows: Book one

As Cold as the Snow (15)

The world around me spun, the steady clip-clop of the horses' hooves becoming muffled, as if a heavy fog had settled in my mind. I could still feel Davin's weight in my arms, his body cold against mine, but his presence—his warmth, his breath, the life that had been in him—was gone. I wanted to scream, to rail against the injustice of it all, but nothing came out. My mouth was dry, my chest a hollow pit of despair.

The city gates loomed closer, but they no longer held any promise of safety. I had failed. I had failed him. And now I was carrying him back into the city... but what was the point? There was no one left to save.

The horses pulled the cart forward, unaware of the heartbreak it carried, their steps brisk as they crossed the threshold into the city's protective walls. But I didn't see the city. I didn't see the lights, the bustling streets, the people going about their business. All I saw was the empty, lifeless face of Davin, his blood staining the cart in slow, grim patterns.

I don't know how I managed to stop the horses at the stables, how I got down from the cart, how I half-dragged, half-carried Davin's body through the city streets to the inn where we had been staying. Every step felt like it was happening to someone else. My body moved on instinct, while my mind was too far gone, swallowed whole by the numbness that was creeping in.

I barely registered the concerned looks from the innkeeper as she saw me, the blood staining the hem of my cloak, Davin's body in my arms. The pain, the weight of the loss, had yet to fully sink in. It hadn't had time. The tears hadn't come. Not yet.

I set him down on the bed, gently as I could, but it felt wrong. His body was limp, heavy, an unnatural weight. I stepped back from him, my breath quick and shallow, my hands shaking as I tried to process the scene. The room around me seemed to close in, the walls shrinking, the air too thick to breathe.

I couldn't breathe.

The room spun. His lifeless form in the bed was a cruel reminder of my failure. I should've been stronger, should've acted faster. He'd said I was tough, but I wasn't. I was broken. I couldn't even save him.

The chill in the room seemed to match the icy knot forming in my chest. The first snow had began to fall blanketing the world outside in its cold embrace, but inside, there was nothing but a hollow emptiness. The weight of grief settled over me like the snow outside, smothering me, turning everything around me cold and distant.

I sank to the floor beside the bed, unable to look at his face, unable to even process that he was gone. The thought came and went, fleeting, like a bad dream. But this wasn't a dream. He was gone. Forever.

Forever.

I wasn't sure how much time passed. I didn't know if it had been minutes or hours. The only thing I could feel was the empty, aching void in my chest, the slow, creeping realization that this—this loss—wasn't something I could escape. It was permanent. There was no way to take it back, no way to undo what had happened.

And the silence, the absence of his voice, of his laughter, of his very presence—it was deafening. He was gone, and I was alone.

The window let in a sliver of moonlight, casting pale shadows across the room, making the snow outside look like a frozen wasteland. The light from the window seemed so far away, like something that didn't belong in this world anymore. It was as if the universe had shifted in the span of a breath, and I was left to pick up the pieces.

But there was no point. No point in picking up the pieces of something that was already broken beyond repair.

I pushed myself up from the floor, my hands trembling as I reached for the cloak hanging by the door. The cool air nipped at my skin, the wind outside biting through the cracks in the window. It matched the emptiness inside me.