RenMarie1
The corridor is on fire.
Boots slam against marble behind her. Closer. Louder. She doesn't look back. The walls are glowing-orange and red and full of smoke. The air is heavy with the scent of iron and roses, sweet and metallic and choking.
Her feet are bare. Blood splashes up her ankles as she runs.
Something is in her arms.
Warm. Trembling. Whimpering.
She clutches it tighter.
Protect it. Keep going. Don't stop.
The palace shakes. A scream-someone she knows, or used to. A name she almost remembers.
She blinks away ash, blinks through tears, and turns the last corner into the shattered throne room-
And there he is.
Silver eyes glowing like twin moons. Face shadowed.
Cloak torn. Shirt stained red-too much red.
His hands... Gods, his hands are drenched in blood.
He doesn't speak.
He never does.
He just stands there, the sword still at his side, the bodies behind him unmoving.
Watching her.
Waiting.
Her breath stops in her chest. A crack of thunder rolls somewhere far behind the fire. Her knees nearly give.
She doesn't know why she's afraid. But she is. Terrified.
She steps back.
Tightens her grip on the thing in her arms.
And whispers, "Don't follow me."
She doesn't remember why she says it.
Only that she's said it before.
And yet-
He always follows.