regnavitque iter rex, yamiojo

2.

Hope, of course, betrayed him.

He woke up again. How did he know he was not dead? The pain had neither entirely ceased, nor become unbearable.

No heaven or hell awaited him.

Maybe this was what came after death instead not the stories his grandmother used to whisper at night in the ethereal glow of the lamps: the stories of beautiful, sprawling, green valleys, and cool winds blowing somewhere high up in the sky, in a world which was not to be found with maps or roads, but a journey of the heart or the stories of the reflective world with the worst horrors imaginable.

Perhaps, he was seeping into the oblivion. He did not know if he welcomed that thought or detested it with every inch of his soul. There was a slight sense of panic coursing through him, which was soon taken over by an overwhelmingly bright flare of rage.

Someone was bent over him, healing him. Someone was, yet again, controlling his life.

But no matter how righteous he felt, he struggled to do much. However, he did manage to get the person's attention, and just like that, fate had twisted the dagger in his heart.

It was her. He could make out her big brown eyes and the messy curls framing her face. Anguish clouded her expression as if she were feeling his pain instead. She quickly put her bloodied finger up to her lips and looked at him sternly. She knew what he was going to say.

She needed to flee. She was breaking an oath by staying and tending to his wounds.

She was breaking their pact.

But he could not help but be relieved, the treacherous feeling taking over him. He had extracted her word, she would not help him, and he had promised himself over and over again that he would never take her help, but here they were.

He, in his natural element of lies and broken swears; she, tarnishing herself for him.

She started to whisper the poisonously sweet assurances of a peaceful and happy future. He shook his head lightly.

"No, it is not like that. You have to listen." She shook her head right back, "They think you're dead. I-I mean, your family. And everyone else."

She took his questioning gaze as an invitation to ramble, "I know you told me no helping and all that but I, well, I talked to the army and we devised a plan. It involves you and that's why I am not here just on my own. I was sent. We're on the same side. I can help you. You have to come. We can win the war. We have to leave..."

Her words echoed in his head. Did he feel relieved? Joyed? Or had that knot lodged itself in his chest once more? He did not know. He focused on her again.

Her eyes were bright with hope as she spoke animatedly and then, froze.

He tried to call out as shock registered on her face, and she looked down at the blade protruding out of her chest. He could not tear his eyes away as she fell on top of him, and he saw the man smirking at him, his hands holding the weapon now slick with blood.