The Beginning Of The End

Chapter 43

Days passed. Two days, during which the pain just got worse and worse. Every few hours I would pass out from it, and every time I didn't think I would be able to cope with anything more. Every time, it would just get worse.

After three days the liquid fire, that burning, was almost everywhere. I knew I was going to die. After all that, that whole month of enduring the awful pain on and off of Witch's End, that wasn't even what would kill me.

I wasn't even aware of anything around me anymore. I just lay on the ground, trying to find the coolness in the stone floor, clawing at it till my fingers bled as I tried to get through the pain that seemed like it would never end.

I didn't hear her footsteps when she came down, or the door to my cell opening. When something nudged my head I opened my eyes to see a foot. I raised my hood, taking in the long black boot all the way up to the dark hair.

"Rowyn," I croaked.

"You don't look like you have much longer," she said softly, crouching in front of me. I barely noticed how the cruel, wicked tone was barely there anymore.

"Please," I whispered, but even as I did I didn't know what I was pleading for. My head dropped back to the hard ground, my eyes clothing. I was weak and exhausted, I just wanted this to all be over.

"Louisa," Rowyn's voice said softly, close to my ear. "You're going to have to accept your fate, sis."

"Louisa, you can't just let her die!" Our father's voice, broken and desperate.

"I can and I will," she snapped, though there was something in her voice that hadn't been there before. She saw her feet as she turned away, watched them moving back towards the door of my cell.

"I'm sorry, Rowyn," I whispered. "I'm sorry I could never be your big sister."

Her feet had stopped, and I closed my eyes, waiting for the clang of metal as she slammed the door angrily the way I knew she would. But it never came.

"Stupid feelings," Rowyn's voice muttered angrily, just loud enough for me to hear it. A moment later a felt a sting on my cheek but didn't do more than let out a quick breath. She had reopened the cut where the liquid fire had first started, but it was nothing compared to the pain I had been going through these last couple of days.

"What are you doing?" My father's voice asked angrily. "Let her be, you've done enough to hurt her!"

Rowyn ignored him and I felt her fingers, cool against my face. The coolness soothed the burning as she pressed her fingers into the cut itself. She was murmuring words that made no sense to me and the coolness spread, soothing more and more of me. The fire receded, from my face, my neck, and down into my chest. I gasped with relief but I could still feel it burning in the rest of me: My stomach, my waist, my legs and arms.

But Rowyn obviously knew how to fix that. I felt a sting on each of my palms and once again her fingers were there, her words seeming to push the cool up across the fire, overpowering it. A small slit across my lower stomach and one in each of my calves and suddenly the fire, that burning pain, was gone. I was left with a few stinging cuts but an overall sense of calm, almost numbness.

"Thank you," I gasped, looking up at Rowyn where she stood in the cell doorway, her hands coated in blood and some other shimmering silver substance. That was my little sister who had just saved my life. Of course, it was her fault it was really in danger in the first place, but the fact that she had saved me meant something.

"You'll still die," Rowyn snapped. "Witch's End still has it's hold on you, and I'm sure the Devil is waiting eagerly."

She started to turn but screamed and stumbled back into my cell. She was caught, an arm wrapping around her and pinning her hands to her sides. Eyes wide with shock, I looked up from the muscled arm around her to the knife at her throat, and then to the curly blonde head beside hers.