Wilona fought as she had danced. An elegance that had met a new, wilder side of her. Her footing was quick as she sliced at soldiers' ribs and necks anytime they got too close to the women and children. They all went down without a word. She ran towards a warrior struggling against a Tyrants-Men, one swift kick to the air and she wrapped her legs around his neck, pulling him down and letting her brother do the rest. She hopped off and looked around, watching the blood-curdling cries of battle come to life. Denali where are you? She thought, watching the men run past her.
Her face was sticky, and the humid weather had clung to her skin. The cling of a sword caught her attention, and her eyes followed the noise. One of the women, Jae, drove a sword into a Tyrants-Mens back. The scene ignited a flame of courage inside of her, and as the rain started pouring, she smiled at the sky. At least now her weapon was being cleaned.
×××
Denali felt anger tighten around his chest at the sight of battle. He had done something he shouldn't have, so that Wilona may live, and yet here she was, endangered. He knew it was the Fates who had done this, and he cursed at the sky in a fit of rage.
He ran towards the battlefield, unsheathing his very own weapon as he descended the hill. Instantly, a Tyrants-Men met him, and Denali tripped the man as he ran off. He wasn't here to kill, he only wanted to pluck Wilona out of all this whirling chaos. A pang of worry befell him, and a sickening hope dared make him think she was okay.
×××
She had sworn she heard drums playing in the distance. The roaring was becoming unbearable, and her head grew dizzy in the heat and scent of rain.
"Pitiful girl!" she heard a scrawny Tyrants-Men scream at her, right before she had him shed blood.
"It's woman, you prepubescent weasel." The rain tended to the wounds opening at her face and arms. She felt a sting in her back and cursed the warrior who put it there. Suddenly, she was knocked to the ground, her breath fleeing her lungs.
A heavy-set man stood over her, holding a great silver sword with an intention that would have ended in nothing but death. But she managed a pretty smile, throwing her dagger straight into the mans shoulder. He grunt, and let his sword fall. She managed to shift her body and crawl out from under him in two movements. She grasped at the hilt of the falling sword, and spun, slicing delicate flesh.
She felt blood splatter against her face, and as if pulled around, she turned and met the eyes of someone she loved. Eyes that made her want to dance, eyes that made her want to silence this noise, eyes that made her want to keep fighting.
×××
Denali saw her in her stained white dress, and once again, found himself unable to look away. She was an unbeatable force amidst the brutality that came at her. Wilona managed to take down two men at once, and hardly seem to notice. Although she fought with an instinct that was purely survival, she was distracted, looking for something. Then a man had swept her off the ground, and at once her dance was interrupted.
Denali's nostrils flared, an angry calm eliminating whatever trace of reason he had left. He saw a multitude of scenarios in which the man died, and wished to enact them all. But he only managed to delay the fatal pierce of the sword, and Wilona fought with all she had. A blink, and now he was below her.
She turned around. A sigh of relief escaped him, and she was now looking at him. Recognition awakened her eyes, both of which smiled with a gratefulness that echoed her lips. He took a step toward her, she dropped her sword.
She took in a sharp breath, the smile still plastered on her face before her eyes closed. Denali stopped short, finally noticing the sword protruding from her stomach, and a fearful boy that resembled Asander, behind her. A sigh that sounded what love would sound like if it had a voice, breathed through her lips. It would be her last.
Right before she fell, a scream erupted, and for a moment no longer than a memory, everyone seemed to stop at the hoarseness of the voice, at the banshee cry that snapped them out of their personal endeavors. The scream that was Denali's.
YOU ARE READING
In Death We Love
Fantasy"This is the story of how Death tried to live and love, turning love into a deadly thing." Delani was a young man of whom the Fates chose to be Death, their personal grim reaper that sought out the souls calling to him, aiding in the circle of life...
