The Tale of Two Worlds

Crimson red dark on mud, quickly being desaturated by the intense downpour that was common in the summers of Alethial.

Cream white silk of a night gown touched at the edges with the same crimson, being tugged by the inevitable force of rain water rushing down a slope.

The gown still stuck to the lithe form of a woman that seemed to have bones like a bird and a kind face in life. Her sun-kissed skin spoke of more southern regions than the land that would become her final resting spot. The emerald green crushed velvet of her now blood and water-logged cloak brought out the gold undertone that was common of her people.

If anyone was just passing, they would think the woman had merely fallen in the slick mud.

He knew. It was his to find.

He was too shocked, too angry, too upset, to not look down upon the scene without cool efficiency. He had seen this kind of stuff in his line of work before.

He knelt down and touched that oh, so kind face then the lips that seemed to hold a smile even in death. Only her eyes betrayed her last thoughts. Fear, and not just for herself. Sonja. His Sonja. Murdered in cold blood.

Dante stood and looked around, not caring that his soft doe skin pants were nearly ruined, not caring that his straw yellow, shoulder length hair was plastered to his face, none of that mattered right now. He looked around for a second body, a second tiny body. His son.

There.

Just in the tree line there was a solid, crumpled shadow, Dante walked quickly to the boy and touched the blanket he was still half wrapped in. The tower of masculinity broke right then, sobs coming out in ragged sobs that sent his whole body shaking and shuddering. With gentleness that should have been impossible for someone of his size, The Lord of the Northern Region picked up his heir and cradled him to his chest. He rocked almost absentmindedly "Shh, it's okay, Gabriel. Papa is here, little pup. Everything is alright" words that he often spoke to the two year old when he was upset. Now the words were uttered more to console Dante than his son. It only succeeded in ripping into his heart more.

He gave a heart wrenching roar into the dark of the night. Lightening flashed on the horizon.

After a several unconsolable minutes, Dante rose onto shaky legs, Gabriel still held protectively to his large chest as he stumbled back to the manor to get help collecting Sonja's body.

Dazed and robotic, the Lord walked to the nursery and put the child in his crib, pulling a dry blanket up to his chin as though afraid he would catch a cold in death. "Sleep well, pup. Tomorrow is a new day for you to grow into the man I know you'll be. Rest and dream beautifully" Dante had barely gotten the last word out before sobs consumed him again, making him sink to his knees next to the crib, pulling at his hair with both fists. This wasn't happening...couldn't happen....but it did.

Dante Lazerie was alone, his family murdered and it was his fault.