FireSweet

The Truth about the Prophesy

        I pulled the dagger toward me, opening the wound so it extended from spine to stomach.  My eyes were squeezed shut, blocking out the look of shock that I knew Mají would be wearing.  His chest rose against mine as he gasped in surprise and pain, his hands loosened from around me, but I dropped the dagger and refused to let go of him.  Within a minute he grew heavier, losing too much blood to stand, I was left to support him.  When he was too heavy I helped to lie him down on the stone, ignoring the blood that made the floor slick and slippery. 

            I watched as the life ebbed from Mají’s body, each breath shallower than the last.  His black eyes were dull, no longer shining with confidence and mischief.  He stared at me, but did not ask why, his eyes held soft understanding, in a way that said he not only accepted his imminent death, but was almost proud of me for killing him.  He moved his hand toward mine, and I completed the action for him, twisting my fingers through his.

            “I should’ve known,” he murmured.  “No one can outrun a prophesy from the Griffon, I deserve it.”

            “I never thought it would be you,” I admitted, tears beginning to well in my eyes.  “I promised her Mají… I never thought it would be you.”

            “Neither did I,” he breathed.

            “I’m sorry,” I sighed.

            “Listen to me,” he instructed.  “Gittoran… when I die, go to Jumé.  You’ll need him… you’ll be great, I know you will.”

            “Need him?” I asked.

            Mají shook his head, pain etched across his face as he struggled to find enough breath to speak. 

            “Don’t push it,” I corrected.  “It doesn’t matter.”

            “Only you… would stab me and ask me not to rush to my death, “he chuckled, choking on his blood as he laughed wryly.

            He continued to cough and choke, the effort it took not to drown in his own blood sapping his remaining energy.  I could see his life fading rapidly, and he knew it.  He struggled to smile, for me, though he could no longer keep his eyes open.

            “Gittoran,” he rasped.

            Mají shuddered, and before I could respond, his body burst into a cloud of crimson dust, mixing with the pool of blood and settling in my hair.

            I stared at the space he had occupied for a moment, slowly understanding the finality of the situation.  Mají-jalio Rose was dead, and I had killed him.  The realization broke down the wall that shock had built in my mind, and I dissolved into a puddle of emotions.  For one day, it was too much, losing Briamy, and then him… I broke down, letting the hurt and pain run down my face through tears.  Within seconds I was sobbing silently, my breath hitching in my throat as I struggled to breathe through the water as it coursed down my face and dripped into my mouth. 

            I stayed like that; all sense of purpose lost while I grieved their deaths until I plummeted into the exhausted stupor of a dreamless sleep.

            I was no longer alone when I woke.  Jumé-falio was sitting just out of arms reach, peering intently at me, as if he had been waiting for me to wake up for some time.  He held his hand out to me, offering a sphere of chocolate carefully, as if I was a wild animal that needed soothing.

            “The healer gave this to me,” he said softly.  “She said that if you were alive, you would need it.”

            I took the sphere, feeling the lazy swish of liquid within the chocolate shell.