It never occured to her it would be wrong.
Ginny ran a hand through her cropped, golden hair. She felt strange, her throat burning from the overuse of energy, and desperately wanted the report to come in already. How hard could razing the place be?
For the sake of the gods it had been three days anyway.
So where the devil was that blasted brother of hers?
*_______________________________*
Helio leaned against the scorched wall, panting, bloody, and exhausted. He looked at his hands. They were trembling.
Funny, he thought, more confused than anything, I can't remember how I got here . . .
He looked down, noticing the countless scratches and holes in his armor. Noticing the number of cuts and bruises littering his body. Noticing the way his cape clinged to the wall.
Noticing the layer of color on his body
It was like a rainbow had decided to throw up on him. Glittering blues and yellows mixed and blended so perfectly with the green and reds. He had heard of artists delving into a . . . . What had they called it?
Splatter method?
Yes. That was it.
Some eccentric artist had taken it upon himself to throw a few buckets of paint over him. In a way it was oddly beautiful. The way the firelight cast over the colors to accent the different shading.
Truly a masterpiece . . . .
Painted in the blood of the innocent.
Helio looked up this time. Towards the fire. Who's house was it this time? Who's shambling corpse would rise in a few weeks, mashed together with countless others in some grotesque creature?
How many lives had been lost in the past five minutes?
The past hour?
The past three days?
What in Hell's name had he done?
*_______________________________*
Harvey knew he was dead. He could feel it.
The cold. The emptiness. The loss. The calm.
The release.
He felt as if the light had drained out of his body. He felt as if he could simply fade into the blissful darkness forever.
Maybe he could see her again, if he left.
Maybe he could see his daughter.
And then he truly felt where he was.
Contained. Hanging on by a sliver of light in the blackened heart his brother held within. He could feel his corporeal body strain and found no relief.
For now he was trapped.
Trapped in his own mind.
Jade . . . . Forgive me . . .
YOU ARE READING
Darker Yet Darker
Science FictionIt was never really his choice. Genocide was a common practice for his people. Those who carried the blade were generally praised as heroes. They lavished in money, women, and wine; living their lives as gods. But he never wanted this. Blackened and...
