He should have known that happiness wasn’t in his cards. Whenever it finds its way to him, it is ripped away from him. Figuratively…and literally.
The knight who gave him his name laid on the grass, just like how he and she used to do. The green mixed with the red still seeping from her armor, barely visible in the midnight rain. Her eyes were dim, a far cry from the sun they once were.
He breathed heavily, his hands still on her wounds. He knew she was gone, but if he stopped, he didn’t know what would happen to him. His back was turned to the moon, the damned orb at fault for all this. The curse that brought upon the beast that attacked them.
“...my love.”
His voice, hoarse and dry, finally spoke the words he never dared to say, tears or rain falling onto the still face framed by golden hair.
“I couldn’t save you.”
The beast was too strong, and even he couldn’t hold it back. Even after all the training with her, all the times she reassured him that if it came back, he would be strong enough to beat it…
He failed. He was a failure. He couldn’t do it. It killed her, his failure killed her. What would her brothers say? They were right to distrust him, after all. Right to say that he could never protect her.
Voices. He could hear voices. The twins…if they saw their sister there, they would blame him. They would be right to do so. The claws and marks on her broken and battered body told their story. The fact he was alive told its story.
He had to leave her, flee to the woods and start anew.
…how was he supposed to find his way without her?
Before he knew it, his gaze found hers again, the rain on her cheeks mimicking the tears he could never understand. Why would anyone cry for him? Why would anyone care for him, a mere peasant found on the streets?
A shadow of a man.
The voices grew louder. He shut his eyes. Let them capture him. Let them put him on trial. Let him be executed. That way he could never fail to protect anyone again, especially from the beast of the woods.
He looked down at himself. Slashes and blows, shallow cuts into his skin. Of course. She died. Not him. It should have been him. If he had been stronger, she would have lived. He would have died, as it always should have been.
His mind wandered to the twins’ reaction to finding their sister. His hair stood on end. It wasn’t due to the cold plaguing the night.
“...my knight. My sun.”
How funny words could be.
He strained to force himself up, but just like before she lost her light, he couldn’t control his body. He couldn’t move. He was weak. He always has been.
Get up.
Get up and fight another day, dear.
Those had always been her words. An easy order to follow, but why did they ring so hollow now?
If he didn’t get up, he would be incarcerated or killed, which she wouldn’t have wanted. She’d want him to live on.
But if he lived on, especially without her…
There was no future.
Please, don’t think that way. There is always a future for you. For everyone.
He swallowed. Were those words fabricated or her spirit? He didn’t know. Insanity was no stranger to him.
Let me go.
Gone were his palms from the freezing body of his sun. He slowly retreated back into the woods, eyes not leaving her, step quickening at the same pace as those from the twins. And when he heard their howls, he collapsed.
“...I’m sorry.”
He was undeserving of the name she had given him. Her gift was in vain.
He scrambled for the necklace, almost finding it lost among the freezing cold on his chest. Relief flooded him when he finally found the piece of metal, yanked it away, and threw it on the ground where it shattered.
Moon.
That’s what a piece said. How funny. He stood up, trampling on the item with such ferocity that it cut into his soles. Red poured from him, so much more than during the battle. Less than he deserved. Less than should have been.
He panted, the necklace broken into a million pieces, its other half still intact. He knew what word awaited him, but he didn’t dare pick it up. He knew that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to control himself. He wouldn’t…
He couldn’t. Not again. He knew that if he did, then not even the greatest guards could be protected, not even the most mighty of warriors would survive.
…and yet.
His heart had shattered with the pieces of her gift.
It would have been the only thing keeping him together, so maybe, just maybe, if he looked upon that half again, he could be whole. He could be with her and her gift.
What foolish hope. And yet…
The cold metal was barely noticeable in the rain. He paused, the blank material staring up at him. One single motion was enough.
He spiraled.
He fell.
His sun, his knight, had given him his name, yet he often found himself forgetful of it, undeserving. And now, as he stared down upon it, he knew why.
He truly was undeserving of it.
He was not the only foolish one.
…less.
Something erupted from his throat. Laughter, a sound he thought himself unable to produce. His sensitive ears picked up the voices behind the trees filled with anger and wrath and grief. Shouting that grew louder and closer.
Let them. Perhaps they stood a chance.
…no, what was the point anymore? The only person able to control it was gone.
Moonless rose, vision blurry, claws digging into the dirt. The rain had stopped. He snorted, staring up at the clear sky.
The full moon stood tall and bright.
Moonless howled.
Moonless cried.
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1 comment
Interestingly enough, this is the 2nd werewolf story I have read today. I like your world-building here. It pulls me I wanting to know more about it. I also want to know more about the twins (where did this narrative begin--where is it going). Have you written more of this story? I'll have to check out some of your other work. I wish you well in all of your writing projects.
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