The Magician's Vow: A Retelling of The Pied Piper of Hamelin

Part I - Chapter XIII: Songs & Shooting Stars

Death is difficult to imagine until it is staring at you straight in the face --perhaps even hitting you in the gut and ripping your air out as well as roaring in hatred. Yes, it is a fact of life, and yes death happens to all eventually, but when you see a body, usually so full of life, slowly being depleted of the fullness it once was filled with, it can drain you of any thought of your own life. Sometimes, it is simply because everything you think of revolves around that one person. Sometimes it is because you cannot even begin to think of living apart from that person. Perhaps you feel as if your life will end with theirs. 

Looking back, attaching myself to Lorelle in mind, and heart, and thoughts might not have been the wisest thing to do, especially in such a literal form. Each movement that sends pain rippling down her body is reciprocated in mine. Each raspy breath she takes has my own throat sore and grated. Each short vision of pain and agony she dreams rushes through my own mind. As I feel all that she feels, I am of little use to her. It is difficult to see past the great, stifling pain she is enduring to the facts: she needs to be comfortable, she needs to rest... and with my mind so torn at the thought of all the pain she feels, I feel like anything I do to help will only be like throwing a thimble of water onto a raging forest fire. I know she would not want to pass into death beholden to magic as a resting agent. Although at peace with the magicians, she was a proud human. 

She would want to die as a pure one.

I cannot take that from her.

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As Eugene approached his home, he could feel the weight of death on his shoulders. Lorelle's life was completely encompassed by it. Now bounded to her, he was compressed on every side by the very thought of it.

Phantom slowed to a trot as they broke out of the trees on the northern side of his home. After leaving Ambrose and Loch-Eyerin, Eugene had completely let go. He allowed Phantom control of the ride and the stallion had found a way of directly heading home instead of using winding paths and curving roads that would only prolong the travel time. He was a good horse and kept up the pace that had been previously set for him. He knew time was of the essence. Every minute away from Lorelle was another minute during which she could die, cold and alone, surrounded by the dark instead of by her loved one. 

At the sight of the stone house that he had barely visited in the past few days, Eugene jumped from Phantom's back, and raced around to the front. The ground had dried since the drenching rain and the grass was a brilliant green in the burning and ending sunset. The light from the sleepy sun made the world seem on fire. Golden light danced off every smooth surface and dark reds crept into otherwise blue shadows. 

But Eugene's mind was as far as one could be from the beauty of their surroundings. His thoughts were focused on the door of the house and his heart was with Lorelle. No space for measly sunsets or burning rocks. 

The wooden heels of Eugene's leather boots slapped against the stone path his father had made that led from the road to the house's door, and then back to the workshop. He pressed a hand on the wooden door of the home and another on the handle. Steeling his nerves, and preparing his heart, he pushed the door open. 

The first thing he noticed was the overwhelming scent of sweat and dirt. It was like the old quarters of London, where people sweat more than it rained and dirt covered everything, no matter how many times you washed or brushed, or swept it. Eugene left the door open to let in some fresh and light and glanced over at the fire place. The flames had long since died out. Cold ashes were all that remained. But the weather was getting warmer and the sun did a great part in warming anything within its reach. 

But despite the sun's good job of lighting the ground just inside the house, the walls that held the bed was dark and shadowed. Despite the lack of light, Lorelle's face was clearly seen. Her gleaming, sweat soaked face almost glowed and her golden hair reflected any sliver of light that hit it, making it out to be some sort crown upon her head.