The Chronicles Of The Council #1: The Sun's Tears

Chapter 58: Aebbé - Drowning

“You have to die a few times before you can really live.” – Charles Bukowski

My room’s shrouding darkness match the gaping hole I feel in the centre of my chest. Who knew that so many emotions at once could leave one feeling so hopelessly empty? Sitting on the floor, huddled up into a pathetic ball at the end of my bed, my infinite tears seep through my sleeves. Whenever I think about the events that transpired only hours ago, another wave of tears break free.

My wedding night has definitely passed by now, yet the sun fails to seep through the cracks between the boards on my windows. A few birds have chirped in anticipation of the coming day, yet their nervous chatter have now ceased, leaving my sniffles as the only sound stretching into the dark day.

I unclench my hand, only to stare at my wedding band for an eternity. Its weight has amplified, dragging me deeper and deeper into despair. Clutching it into my palm, I attempt to erase its existence, yet the metal, now clammy from my sweat and tears, serves as a constant reminder of my heartache.

For a fleeting moment, I allow myself to imagine aquamarine eyes smiling at me, but I banish the cursed image my heart conjured from my mind. Instead, I focus on studying the mountains of furniture I moved in front of my doors, wasting my precious energy to do that. No-one has even bothered to check on me – that is until Caith materializes in my room.

The silence stretches on as I desperately look at every cobweb and brick in my room in an attempt to avoid eye contact with my heart’s focus. Unfortunately, the inexplicable and unstoppable pull I feel towards him forces our eyes to collide.

My heart stops as all the pain that has been overwhelming me vanishes, leaving me with uncontainable joy at seeing him. My elation plummets as the small voice of reason whispers that he is the sole perpetrator that betrayed my trust – and my heart.

As he holds his hand out toward me, my only thought is that I want to be enveloped in his arms.

“You should come with me. We have but a little time.”

I feel circles of stone forming around my eyes as I formulate my answer. “Why did you not tell me who you were?”

He digs his other hand into his pocket and answers with a long sigh. “I did, so many times. I told you about my family. I told you about the events leading up to the First War. I told you everything about me, as I am – not as the image you have of me.”

Desperation – something I have not associated with him before – clings to his voice. My mind struggles to overcome the obstacle that have grown between us. Trust is a fickle thing. It takes so long to build, and then one deed or misdeed shatters it.

“Aebbé, please come with me. We only have until sunset.” The edge to his voice unearths a hollowness that can only be suspect of impending doom.

I don’t want to take his hand, but the nagging fear that this might be my last moments with him cause my hand to linger just above my knees.

“Please, trust me this last time,” he urges while emphasising his open hand with a single shake.

“I have already trusted you more than I did any other. Do you remember telling me that people are placed in your life for only a short while to better it? I believe that your time in my life has expired.” My eyes slide away from his, only to land on the bracelet he gave me.