The night crept eternally around Capital, a sulking mist had descended, obscuring sight for all but those staring directly towards the sky, this was a night of dreams. Tiny spots of light on the tapestry of night, that eternally added to its beauty. A piece like fine silk. The young man gazed, wide awake but no less dreaming then those tucked up in their beds. Barely seeing his fifteenth winter, though the snow seasons had been incredibly odd of late. He sat upon a field of grass and breathed in that cool air. This night was one of hope and he could feel the air rife with possibilities. He had been making this decision for a long time, one more final breath stilled his nerves. Sitting up he gazed at the city lights ahead of him. The boy rose to his feet, he grasped for the cloak. His fingers found nothing. Grabbing again and again. Spinning in place, he couldn’t see it, of course not, not in this light. His heart in his throat. Had he lost it? He took a step and tripped. As his face hit the floor with a crunch, lifting himself up small droplets of blood dripped against the floor. Was it there?
His fingers touched the soft fabric that had become intertwined around his legs. It wasn’t lost. The boy allowed the breath that he unconsciously had held to leak past his lips, a continual breeze. The boy ran his hand under his nose and saw the streak of scarlet that now stained his hand. Pulling the cloak over his shoulders he reached into his pockets and examined the contents between his fingers. Finding what he was looking for he drew it into the night sky. A small patch of cloth, he pressed it to his nose for a few moments. Stupid, but stupid would not keep him from his plan. He ran into Capital, through its great gates. The sounds of the guards giving him the usual speech. He didn’t fully hear them but it was the same as always “Sorry, won’t let it happen again!” he didn’t even miss a step. The whirring sound of gears and the sprays of steam could be heard all around Capital, morning, noon and night, why would this be any different. The beautiful angles of buildings and the beauty in the intricacy of the city. He passed the abandoned inn, The Kings Grace, and ducked down another alleyway. Finding the vines beneath his fingers, he smiled and took to climbing them with the practiced expertise of someone who has done this many times before.
A gentle tap at the window drew her away from her book. The young girls imagination was snapped back to reality. Gazing towards the window there was nothing. Bizarre. As she wandered over pulling her dressing gown over her nightgown she stared out the window. This silly fog. Unclicking, the latch she pushed the window open. A slight thud, caused the window to begin to close again. Looking to her right, she saw her boyfriend. Dressed in his fine cloak, the finest item he owned, his nose seemed to be leaking blood. She cried out as she pulled him inside. He landed as a lump on the floor, clearly startled by her strength. Maybe it had something to do with her mother’s elvish heritage, she had always been strong. “I’m so, so sorry Darrius!” she whispered as loud as she could, she couldn’t let her father know he had come back again but nor could she leave him outside! “What are you doing back here?! Your hurt?”
“Sorry” Darrius pulled himself back together, his head was spinning in possibilities and apprehension. A continuous dream. What would she say? What would she do? He rubbed beneath his nose again. Still scarlet, still bleeding. Oh well, time to take the risk. He fumbled in his pocket and produced the small black box. “Yisabelle, I mean, would you …?” His voice was a shaking wreck, a crumbling ruin of syntax held together by only the determination to keep speaking, even if the words along the way were wrong. Words fell from his mouth barely formed. Opening the box, he presented the fine jewelled ring. What if she said no? What if she said yes? Would things ever be the same again? He couldn’t look at her face. Her hands enveloped his. This gave him the confidence he needed. He raised his head to see her smiling face.
“Of course I would, but we’re still young.” She was trying not to break. She wanted to say yes but it was not right. The right person, but the wrong time, he had always been a hopeless romantic. Of course he loved her, and she loved him, her words had to be delicate. “Your only an apprentice right now. I love you, keep the ring, one day it will truly be a yes.” She closed the box with his hand. She had to be gentle but firm, let him know that she still loved him but there was a better time for this. He felt numb. What did it mean? What did anything mean? His mind was awash with ideas and thoughts. The dream of that future time. What was next for them?
Thud, the door creaked and cracked slightly. The wood had held but something heavy must have hit it, forcing the lock to come to save them. “Erm, hello?” Her words reached for some reassurance as the two young lovers both gazed at the door. Was it her father? Did he hear everything? “Are you Okay?” Thud, the door was pushed again. This time the wood splintered. Cracked and broken, they stared at the door. She grabbed the boy and pushed him behind the bed. Maybe that would protect him. Slowly she approached the door.
His mind was a blur. Why would Yisabelle approach the door? A third crunch and the lock barely held on. The door reverberated back and forth. The fourth crack followed much sooner then the others. The door burst open. “Dad?!” The boy gazed over the bed, it was her dad, but those eyes. It wasn’t just as much. The skin seemed to sink against the bone. He held onto a hammer, the hammer was splattered with red … blood. Yisabelle looked panicked. Afraid and terrified. “…Daddy?!” Darrius, threw himself over the bed grabbing a nearby umbrella, wielding it like a sword. He didn’t know how to use a sword, but how hard could it be. At worst it could keep the distance between the two.
“It will feel good… to hear your bones break.” The voice, it was him but also otherworldly. He had become a blight. But how? “Come here little one … let daddy hurt you.” He swung the hammer wide, breaking open her wardrobe. His face was contorted into a smile, sickening as it tried to show every single one of his teeth. Lunging forwards Darrius stabbed into her fathers shoulder. Blood began to fall but the smile did not. “Nice try… You want her? Come and get Father’s permission…” The hammer was swung again, knocking the umbrella out of Darrius’ hands. It landed with a clatter nearby, rolling beneath the bed. Of all the luck. Yisabelle threw forwards her hand as three small darts shot into her fathers chest. Each one knocked him back slightly. Grabbing Darrius she dragged him towards the window. Please come up with an idea before the window, she thought desperately. Got it. She grabbed a feather from the bed as she rushed past. Yisabelle had only done this once before. She threw them both through the window.
“Soft as a feather!” Yisabelle yelled turning her mind to the spell, allowing her to fall slowly. A graceful glide allowed the two to land on the floor, as soft as a feather. Darrius looked up and instinctually moved Yisabelle. Her father landed beside them, his legs gave a sickening snap and he crumbled to the ground. Darrius grabbed a nearby bin lid and held it like a shield.
“Come to daddy, lovebirds. Come and give me that cloak!”
“I’m so sorry.” Tears plummeted to the ground. Yisabelle stepped forward as she turned her mind to the only spell she could think of. There was no saving him now. She knew it. “Good King Omen, bless his path.”
