Her inaudible voice was a whisper upon the wind, her sudden visage so beautiful he could have wept in his slumber. In the hazily listless way of dreams she came to him, crisp and cold as a winter’s morning. Surrounding her as though a crown, white roses in triumphant bloom. From the sky, the icy petals fell upon them as she squirmed beneath him, naked as the day she was born. The only thing she wore was a pendant around her neck, silver upon alabaster skin.
She had given herself to him completely; her cool body becoming his ocean, beating back against him as relentless as the current breaking against immovable rock. Her grey eyes were endlessly pained, rapture and torment all at the once. He was bringing her close to the edge, an edge which he had long since fell headfirst over.
She moaned. Then, for the slightest second, she became a black phantom made of ice, ice that pierced into his burning flesh.
The Guilt that Haunts Me
It seemed like her heartrate had pummeled out a furious beat for eons now, never relenting. She half expected herself to die of heart arrest. Surely, she thought, it couldn’t go on like this. Cruelly, however, it did. Beat, after beat, after beat. It was all she could concentrate on. A tingle spread throughout her body, centering on her left arm. She looked downwards at the glowing orb, pulsating in time with her heart, and passed it gently to her other hand, where the skin was marked by streaks of red.
She closed her eyes, soft brow furrowing as she recalled the smell of fear and the indomitable gaze of defiant blue eyes. Was it really only hours ago that she had been half dragged her through the crumbling halls to that most sacred place?
She gripped the orb as tightly as she had gripped his hand.
‘What is it you want me to do?’ She had asked him, scared. Timid.
His hard expression had softened, pain in his eyes. He leaned down and kissed the nape of her neck. His wet hair had dripped, cold, down her bare back. She had shivered.
‘I need you to die.’ He had said, so softly.