Timeline: a Wings of Fire fanfiction (COMPLETED)

3.

Darkstalker

"Darkstalker? You were supposed to be back hours ago." Clearsight frowns. But I can tell in her eyes that she's barely had time to notice. "Dinner's gone cold."

The idea of eating makes me want to throw up. I can't even imagine feeling hungry.

"Something's happened," she whispers, reaching out for my talon without actually grabbing onto it. "I know something happened."

"He killed himself," I whisper. My voice comes out sounding like broken glass.

"I know," Clearsight whispers, reaching out for my talon but never quite grabbing onto  it.

There's a long stretch of silence before she asks, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," I snap, turning away and pacing across the room. "He was--he was terrible. The world is probably better off without him."

"Darkstalker..." She's about to scold me, tell me that's horrible, I can feel it in her tone. I'm ready for an argument, but she never ends up finishing the sentence.

After a long silence, I get up and I storm down the hallway to my office. No one understands. No one will ever understand.

"I love you," Clearsight calls. It sounds less like a statement and more like a question.

I don't even respond. I just I slam the door closed, and lean my head against my desk. I have a lantern in here to work by, but right now I need the darkness.

I don't end up doing any work.

I can barely breathe. My fists clench.

I want to punish someone.

I want to make them sorry.

They deserve to be sorry for ever, ever, ever doing this to me.

I slam my fists against my desk instead, making it rattle against the floor.

I grab a scroll off my desk covered in half-finished sketches and to-do lists and important notes from conferences and shred it to pieces.

I still feel angry.

***

After Clearsight has gone to sleep, and the house is completely silent, I creep over to the door, and rifle through my messenger bag, stuffed with ideas for spells and spare ink.

The note is still there. At the bottom of it.

No one can know.

I won't let him hurt them.

I won't let him ruin things any more than he already has.

My mind races through the options. Burn it—but maybe Clearsight would smell the smoke, and I don't want to set anything on fire by accident. Bury it, maybe?

Or...

I gently pry out one of the stones in our wall. The writing flashes through my mind, making me feel nauseous. This is all your fault.

I tuck it just behind the stone and close my eyes.

It's gone now.

No one will ever find it again.

I did the right thing.

I let the anger scrape away the guilt that's taken up residence in my gut.

I did the right thing.

Now he's gone.

This is what he deserves. It'll be fine.

I clench my talons.

I look out the window for a long, long time.