A legend reduced to a skull, thought Kashi Badlhar Nehwalkar, her footsteps echoing against the marble floor, alabaster white mere hours earlier but now bathing in a crimson pool. A glass of liquor was lying untouched on the bedside and for a bitter moment, she almost believed the liquid on the floor to be spilled wine.
A coppery odour diffused in the air, almost knocking her off her feet.
So much blood.
It oozed out of the king's body as if every inch was cut open with the intention of draining him to the last drop and streams of the thick liquid flowed to every nook and the corners, paving its way through the rugs and the hem of curtains, the sword stand and the cavity under the bed, until it reached the other side and continued its journey across the room.
Kashi tried to look but her breaths came in a ragged rhythm and sweat poured out of her skin until she was forced to take support of the wall beside her. Her eyes didn't quite process what she saw. Atop his body, where his face should have been, was a skull. Eyes gouged out possibly by the way blood seeped down from the sockets and a large crack marred the upper part, as if his head was whammed into the floor multiple times before he was killed.
A skull. His skull.
Kashi sank to the floor.
'You should be happy,' said a voice behind her, a voice that sounded oddly like her own.
She turned and saw her own self smiling at her, a wicked glint in her eye. 'Is this not what you always wanted?'
Kashi shot up instantly and ran her eyes across the room. The windows were shut and she didn't hear the door closing. "Who are you? How did you come in?"
'I am Kashi Badhlar. A Nehwalkar no more.'
She did look entirely like her. And in that moment it struck her that she must be seeing things. The shock was making her hallucinate.
The woman laughed, striding to the corpse and glancing at him with thorough revulsion. 'This man gave you nothing. No love and no promises.' She whirled at her and peered closer to her face, 'Then why do you care?'
Kashi took a step back, taking solace in the cool texture of the wall. "He is-was- my husband."
But the woman was already shaking her head. 'He was only your owner. And you-' she caught her by the arm, her nails digging into her skin, '-were his slave.'
'And now you are free!' She walked across the room, swinging her hands wildly, grinning from ear to ear. She, seconds after, turned to her again. Her hands now spanned her frame from up to down. 'But look at you. Grieving him.'
'Ask your heart. What does it want?'
Before she could reply, a loud pounding reverberated in the room and within moments, the door was knocked open, guards swarming inside. And by the time she looked back, the woman had vanished.
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Dëerios
Fantasía•An Indian Fantasy with Dragons, Witches, Fish and Rice• A quest for lost love... In a world where humanity has been driven to near extinction by beings of ash and nightmare, Miriam feels threatened by her own existence. With a beast dwelling insi...