Fate

Chapter Four

So, I have a super talented friend Luminous_ink who drew this amazing portrait of Fate! It's so beautiful :o

Word Count: 1747

~Zayla

Stretching the sleep away, I allow myself only a few moments to relish in the delightful feeling of comfort in warmth, before I sit up in a rush of sheets.

I'm not dead. Fate didn't kill me.

I spend a good few moments staring at my hands, trying to figure out if yesterday was actually real. Everything in my memories have an odd haze around them, leaving me questioning whether I witnessed Fate's normality, or whether that was just a hopeful dream of mine.

Just as I'm about to slide my legs out of the covers, I notice something in the side of my vision. A small handgun lay in the covers at the end of the bed.

My mouth goes dry.

Staring at it for a moment, I consider leaving it. Curiosity itches at my fingers, to the point where I have to grab it. Checking the cylinder, I notice how there's only a single bullet in there. The fine hairs on my arms stand up, as I consider what the use of this is. Obviously this is Fate's doing, once again trying to get into my head with something demented as this.

He wants to play, then fine, I'll play.

Picking up the gun, I keep in the palm of my hand as I scramble from the bed. I'm not sure what this gun means, if it's a sign or warning. I'm going to find Fate, and hopefully the truth along with him.

Opening the door to my room, I consider how I'm going to get across this body of water without sinking straight to the bottom. Yesterday, Fate had strolled across what had looked like nothing, with his magic, I assume. Tentatively, I place my toes into the water, until I feel something solid. It's an odd feeling, but I don't hesitate in walking hastily across until I reach the beach.

Fate is waiting around the corner of one of the pillars, seated on a chair, leg over his knee. He held a gun, just like mine in his hand.

We stare at each other for a moment, his eyes directly on mine. It irritates me how much he can hide behind those dark eyes. Nothing about him hints at his plan, at his intentions. It tempts me to raise this gun and point it at him, just to see a reaction, although I'm worried the emotions I have that the immortal lands have tampered with will make me pull the trigger.

He's immortal, though. He can handle it.

"What's this?" I question, bringing the gun up. It glints in the light from the sun. The exact same sun that stays in the same place everyday. Magic.

"A gun."

My eyes narrow on him. "I can see that-"

"Then why did you ask?" he questions coyly, raising an eyebrow. It takes all my self control not to hurt him in some way. I've already trained in killing an immortal, in finding their weak spot, before targeting it. I'll find Fate's. I know it.

"I want to know why you left a gun on the edge of the bed," I comment.

He seems thoughtful for a moment. He is taking all this time, seeming calmer than ever, with the patience of a saint. How can he be like this, as if neither of us are holding guns? Maybe it's because I'm the only one who can who can get hurt from these bullets in the chamber. I'm only partially rest assured that he won't kill me, considering how long he has waited to collect me from my adoptive parents.

"I'm giving you an option to take yourself out of the deal," he says smoothly. Almost instantly, I drop the gun like it's on fire, flinging it away toward the sea.