Beautiful Darkness

➵Between The Wars

Something in the air makes me want to run away from here. Detachment is the closest thing to describe the feeling that has settled in my chest. The inability to gather my thoughts has my feet carrying me away from the room.

I can hear Orion's protest from behind me. My pace increases down the hallway leading to outside. I stumble through the exiting doors as fresh air bites against my skin. A frosted chill seeps through my lungs and coats my senses.

As my sight glides down to the palms of my hands it is as if I can see the blood that once coated them. My hands shake involuntary. I am everything they claimed.

My knees give out beneath me. They crash into the layer of snow coating the hard ground. Coldness seeps through to my skin. A sob escapes my lips.

"What did I do?" I whisper to myself over and over again. I bury my head into my hands as I let the emotions I try so diligently to hide escape. Tears of concealed pain drip down my stained cheeks. I don't bother wiping them away as they continuously replace themselves.

Sobs overwhelm me.

I ripped them to shreds so easily. They had no chance. Maybe the Dark One is right; I will never be accepted. Pain will follow the ones I love as long as I am near them.

"Arailia," Graham's voice echos throughout the trees around me. I don't reply as his footsteps approach me. A soft grip connects with my shoulder. He kneels beside me. He wraps his arms around me as I sag into his chest. I cry harder.

His hand, reluctant at first, brushes across strands of my hair in a soothing motion.

"I'm a monster," I whimper into him.

"No. You could never be." Emotion is laced within his voice too. I look up at him for the first time. His brow furrows as he wipes my tears away.

"You don't know..." I start before the sobs return.

"I don't know what?" He asks.

"Y-you would never look at me the same," I crash somehow deeper into him. I stand up suddenly. I aimlessly walk into the woods.

"I would not look at you differently." Graham trails behind me.

Snow crunches beneath my feet as I stumble further. I am supposed to be their leader, yet I cannot even lead myself. How do they expect me to save them when I am already forsaken?

"Leave me," I mumble out.

"No."

I bite back irritation. Why can't he understand?

"You can't save me, quit trying." I wipe away more fallen tears.

"You don't need saving." He whispers back. I stop in my tracks.

A bitter laugh escapes my lips.

"I don't need saving? I kill without batting my eyes. I have no remorse for any of the despicable actions I have committed. I can't control myself, let alone lead a group to save an already dying land. My dead sister just possessed me, and an immortal enemy wants me enslaved to serve his will. I am the poster child for needing saved." The rant flows out of my lungs.

He takes several steps closer to me so that I am unable to look anywhere but his eyes.

"This," he pauses to wipe away another set of tears, "is remorse." He pauses momentarily.

"Everyone you have ever known has only sought to control you or manipulate you. Betrayal, death, and self-loathing have haunted you ever since you were ripped away from your family,"

The reminder of them sends a deep sting of ache and heartbreak throughout me.

"You are not perfect, nor are you meant to be. You were given the gift for a purpose; however unclear it may appear to be. Your sister could be alive. How else could she communicate with you? Let your fear and pain inspire you, not define you. Use these faults to lead those around you, for they are unable to lead themselves. We need you, Arailia. I," Graham pauses once again.

"I need you."

His words lift a weight I didn't know was settled upon me.

"How am I supposed to lead them when I can't control the gift? I will only hurt you all." I counter.

"Perfection has never been expected. None of us can begin to imagine what you are dealing with, but you have to let us in. Quit refusing our help to prove something. Pride is worthless right now." He finishes.

I take a moment to settle. I reel back in all the emotions that effortlessly cascaded out of me. I permanently wipe the wetness from my cheeks, refusing to let any more gather.

"Thank you." I bow my head in a display of respect.

"No formalities are necessary. They never have been," He takes a step closer to me.

"I killed 200,000 people." I blurt it out uncontrollably. I wait in fear of the disgust that will cloud his beautiful eyes.

He processes the information slowly. He plans each word before speaking. The disgust I anticipated appears but it does not appear to be directed at me.

"Is that what the traitor planted in your mind?" Anger is visible in his body language.

"I saw it in his memories. I was... brutal. I was like a machine of death," I trail off.

"Don't say that."

"It's the truth. I ripped to them shreds. After i found her body..." I close my eyes to prevent the breakdown I feel coming on.

Graham cups my face in his palms as he says his next words.

"Anessia died in a horrific way. One i don't even want to imagine. You simply reacted. I'm not saying that justifies it, but you couldn't control it. What they did to you for it," He takes a breath to contain his emotions. "is the real monstrous act. They erased who you were, the memories of losing the one you loved most." Graham continues. Our foreheads connect as we share the same air.

"I don't know who I am. I can't even remember her." My voice cracks.

"I know," He soothes.

He pulls back and looks at me thoughtfully.

"If you need forgiveness, I can give you that." I search his eyes, wanting to explore the emotion behind them.

I crash into his arms, needing his words more than I will admit.

After gaining my composure, we enter back into the inn.

As we return to the dining hall a bright light consumes my vision. Three figures stand before me-descendants of the druid, wolves, and fae.

I am left speechless as Zara steps forward and speaks.

"We need to talk."