Cursed Hearts | ATEEZ

047

The only weapon left in my belt was the bronze dagger Wooyoung had given me, but I did not reach for it as I watched Wonho charge at me. I wanted to have it on me when I fell. I wanted to go down without a fight.

The King of the South had come to a sudden halt as he realized what was happening, unable to protect me, unneeded by his own champion. He couldn't stop him even if he wanted to, lowering his sword slightly as his eyes flickered to Wooyoung behind me. He wasn't allowed to.

I braced myself for the sharp edge of the double-edged sword in Wonho's grasp, clenching my jaw, closing my eyes for a moment only to let them flutter open again and widen in disbelief as everything suddenly went wrong in what seemed to be the span of nothing more than a couple of seconds.

Because in a flash of copper and white, Taeyong had managed to place himself between the me and the still advancing giant who seemed unfazed by how his target had suddenly changed, and drove the blade of his sword directly through my best friend's stomach without as much as a flicker of hesitation or regret in his eyes.

I felt myself breaking as the sound of my heart echoed in my ears, faster, faster, faster, as I watched Taeyong crumble to the ground, delicate snowflakes clinging to his hair as it fell into his face, melting in the blood which poured from the wound, deep crimson.

My mind was empty, I was empty. And then the emptiness was filled with the void of my eternal screams, the sound of them piercing the air seeming far-away and unfocused as I scrambled to my knees and across the bloodied sand, calling his name, crying.

I was beside him now, somehow carrying myself to him without realizing how, how it had happened, not understanding. I choked out a sob. He wasn't dying. He couldn't be. But the wound in his stomach-

I hadn't even heard Wooyoung as he came up from behind me and once again tried to keep the other champion away. Jongho's eyes widened, and San took a step forward as well.

And I was pressing the wound, praying to the heavens and everything good that he would live, that the blood coating my hands wasn't real but a figure of my imagination. But it was so warm and there was too much of it.

I screamed and cried and choked on each breath of air rattling through my chest as if my lungs were refusing to accept the oxygen as I watched Taeyong lying below me, weakly pushing my hands away from his stomach. And Wooyoung was fighting for me, using whatever means possible to keep Wonho away. But he was unable to hurt him.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't breathe as I reached for the bronze dagger, not caring as I smeared crimson all over the ivory handle.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't breathe as I clutched the weapon and stared numbly at the King of Autumn's back, catching Wonho's eye for a second as he came into view again, a flicker of desperation, of greed, and the will to win, passing over them.

But I wouldn't give it to him. And so, with one last roar clawing its way through my already raw throat, I threw the dagger with all of my might, the weapon passing by Wooyoung's head just as he moved to the side, unaware of what was happening before, with a dull thud, the very weapon he had gifted me embedded itself in the enemy's chest.

Wonho fell like Jeongguk had done. He fell like Taeyong had done, a sudden look of realization on his face which was now cleared of all hostility and war, its features returning to those of kindness I had seen months ago.

I closed my eyes and clutched my chest which was aching with pain by now, my heartbeat irregular, my ribs hurting, as the arena fell silent for a moment before erupting in cheers as the familiar sound of a horn once again cut through the snow.