by Tara Chau
“Sin.”
Though the boy, the boy that I still grapple to recognise, does not falter, does nothing but blink as he repeats. “What is your name?”
“Sin.” I bark; this time, it comes naturally, almost like I have been saying it for my entire life.
I wonder, not for the first time, is it? Is this my name? Is this what was going to happen? Did we have no choice but to turn down this road? Did I ever have a choice, to just be me, to just be…
“Dianna.” I blurt, voice breaking at the last syllable.
As if I could suck the word back in, Sin forces me forward, but my limbs fail, and I am sprawled across the ground, but there he is again, watching me like I am the world.
“Well, you have a choice, Dianna.” He says, his voice distant but close. “You have a choice to be you or to be Sin. You have a choice to fight one more time or to spend the rest of your life fighting, only in an attempt to see the next sunrise.”
As if the words sting, my body recoils, and my sight become darkened with red once more, but his voice continues.
“You have a choice, to be remembered, or to be forgotten. And,” his voice grows soft, thoughtful and broken, but still clear, clear as the pain spreading limb to limb, “you have a choice to come back, to come back to me.” His eyes grow dark with emotion, loss and pain, and it’s worse than what travels through my body, worse than what rears again and again, harder and faster every time. Worse than any pain.
“Make your choice, Dianna Iysador Reeds.” He says my name like a prayer on his lips. “Come back to me.”
* * *
Sin
Slipping, falling, screaming, falling.
The boy before me, his words are nothing to me, but they create false hope for the girl, one that has grown to be a nuisance. She fights, deflecting all my attacks and embracing the ones she does not. My hold slips again, and I lunge for him, but the body has already begun to unravel, too weak to withstand the pain, so I instead crash to the ground. I am falling back, the mortal vessel’s body rejecting me, casting me back, back into the blackness of my birthplace.
Slipping… The mortals’ voice fills my ears again, and a memory blooms, faint and weak, the only thing I can reach, to destroy. Slipping… To my horror, she speaks, uncertain but true, her name, the very thing I had wiped to the moment I had entered. Slipping. No.
* * *
Annabelle
I lunge, duck, swing, dive, playing his game, continuing this dance for as long as my body will allow, for as long as he will allow. Lucien’s weapon is a work of art, forged by his power granted to him by the pendant swinging from his neck, the one previously owned by Nyx. His two short swords slash, one of them finding its mark as I dive to the left. Unable to help the hiss of pain that escapes my lips, I scowl up at him as I rise again.
“Did that hurt, sister?”
Ignoring his taunts, I attack, feigning right before quickly attacking low, drawing blood from his thigh. I spit on the blade, using my sleeve to wipe the abnormally pale blood off my weapon.
“Did that hurt, brother?” I ask, bringing to life an obnoxious half-grin.
This time it is his turn to attack, taking advantage of my distracted state. A blade materialises, sailing towards me with tremendous speed, shimmering yellow as it solidifies. I tuck and roll, wincing as the hard cement grazes my knees and as I hear the thump of the blade hit something. I swing my leg out as I rise, catching his foot, causing him to tumble to the ground. No pity or hesitation crosses my mind as my sword plunged towards his exposed chest, only to be deflected and thrown across the platform. Barely having enough time to steel myself, Lucien sends me flying in the opposite direction of my blade, my body slamming against a huge wolf. I scramble up, refusing to acknowledge the intense throbbing in my leg, locking gazes with the wolf. I huff a laugh.
“Unbelievable.”
The Lycans eyes swim with amusement until she looks behind me. I echo her growl. Lucien approaches, watching the two of us with a newfound interest, stopping a few metres away.
“You’re not one of mine.” He comments, looking Nyx up and down, “I can tell from your unskilled attacks.”
“And yet they will be enough to defeat you,” I say.
A silent agreement flows between the two of us as we lung, Nyx going for Lucien and for my sword. It takes too long for me to reach my blade, and by the time I clutch at the warm hilt, I hear a bark of pain. My thoughts become jumbled and unobtainable as I soar towards them, jumping metres high, so he has no way of hearing my approach before plummeting down towards his exposed back. A shout comes from something to my left, a warning meant to save a life, but not mine. Reeling back, I try to stop my approach as Lucien turns to me, smiling with glee at the coming kill. The wolf’s eyes widen with horror and despair, and I know that it is not me that will die today despite my fears. I cry out as Nyx opens her jaws wide and takes up Lucien’s arm in her mouth, making his weapon dissolve and his skin bleach of colour. Three seconds, that’s all I need, and that’s what Nyx gives me. As his hand contacts with her maw, my blade contacts with his back, and I drive it through with the force of my fall. The world is filled with screams of death, the sharp wail from the dying wolf as her jaw is ripped in two, and the grunt of discomfort from the person at the end of my blade, the only sign of pain he allows to be shown. Even with every cell of my body screaming at me to go to her, to go to Nyx, I draw my head right up beside Lucien’s ear.
“I won’t make a big, long speech about how your death will be the greatest thing to happen to every single one of us, you know, considering you probably only have about thirty more seconds left to breath this foul-tasting air. So, what I will say, is that this,” I plunge the blade deeper, twisting it around to cause the most damage and pain, “this is for me.”
I do not remove my sword as I watch his body become limp, as his gasps for air cease. I wait until his body is dead weight; I wait for the guilt and grief that will strike. Only until I’m sure that he’s dead and that the guilt is never going to arrive do I yank the sword from his lifeless body.
He falls to the ground, dead as his once beating heart, his eyes staring unseeingly up at the starless ceiling. And just for the heck of it, I bring my blade down one more time, severing his head from his body, and watch as it rolls towards the raging fight, leaving a trail of nothing.
“And that was for everyone else.”
Gabriel
No.
The word barely escapes my mouth before she lunges, eyes flashing until they finally come to rest on red. So close, so gods damned close! No. The word is a chant inside my head, growing louder with each shuddering attack she attempts. With each of her attacks, she grows slower, but her anger grows larger. I dodge with ease, barking an order at Ty to stay back, my eyes never leaving hers.
A wail so full of pain, so breathtaking, comes from my right. It draws Ty towards it, however hesitant he is to stay back. He now runs full speed over to the source of the cry. A thought occurs, making me lose my footing. As I roll back from her grasp, the thought expands. I must find a way out of this mess, a way to finish this. Though my mind continues to urge me towards the path that it has plotted, my heart fights it with every beat it takes. Di once told me that to kill Sin. It would take seven death blows, one for each sin. Looking to her now, my heart skips a beat as I take in her close to destroyed body. What if her body, the thing that carries Sin, the thing that allows her to exist in this world, were to be too weak.
Too ruined to make resurrection possible? What if it only takes one blow, one killing blow, to destroy Sin forever?
I keep moving. I keep dodging and rolling. Each of her heavy stumbling steps chipping my heart, my soul. As her movements become slower and her swipes less accurate, tears roll. My sobs are the only thing I can hear, along with her laboured breaths. Once I had sworn to never cry again, ever. For nothing and no one, would I collapse back into this pit of seemingly never-endi
ng sorrow? I should have known, to love is to die and to live. So, just this one last time, as I gaze into her unseeing eyes, I let them roll down my cheeks. I let myself crumble, only for her, and I stop moving.
She reaches me within seconds, shoving me to the ground. Everything seems to go into slow motion as I reach behind her, drawing the Blunt Blade that I had gifted her just days ago. I hit the ground hard, hissing., Dianna smiles down at me but sneers as she spots the long sword in my hand. As she reaches for it, I swing it around skilfully, pointing the blade down at my stomach. This stops her, Dianna’s hands retract, and her eyes gleam.
“Tell me,” I whisper, eyes darting over her face, searching for any softness. “Tell me, do you love me?” This time when I say the words, my voice is strong, not one trace of hesitance or fear.
She laughs, her once beautiful face contorting until I find no beauty at all, unrecognisable. She smirks, looking down at me, her face hard, eyes unreadable. I feel her shake above me, Dianna’s body barely keeping upright while Sin surveys me.
“No,” she spits.
The blow is hard, harder than I thought it would be, like a direct strike to my insides. I am unsure, unsure if it’s Dianna’s words or Sin’s. I curse myself for admitting it too late. Curse me for fearing her answer enough to delay until it is far beyond too late.
“I don’t believe you,” I say, attempting to make my face a mask of certain confidence when inside, I feel the exact opposite.
She spits her phlegm, landing just beside my ear, red with blood. Something wet drips down onto my face. I look back up at her face to find blood oozing from her eyes, mouth, and ears. Feeling the colour drain from my face, I ignore the urge to wipe away the blood that continues to fall, drawing the attention of Sin. She gasps and looks down at her withering body.
“Come back,” I say, using my free hand to cup her face.
She reels back, like the touch of my hands burn, glaring down at me. “No.”
“Come back,”
“No.” She retorts again, her eyes still yield nothing.
“Okay,” I nod, “I’ll see you soon.” It comes out as a whisper, unsteady and defeated.
As I see the cold amusement in her eyes, I brace my body and let the sword fall. I embrace the earth-shattering pain which cascades through my chest. That is still nothing compared to the pain in my heart.
* * *
Dianna
The dark is a haven. It is cold and unforgiving. Refreshing and dull compared to the pain that I had fought against for what seemed like millennia. It is oblivion, it is pain, but a heart aching pain.
The agony of my body too distant for me to fully comprehend. The blackness flows around me like water, calm and bitterly cold. Locking my limbs and muscles, so I’m frozen, being tossed around like a doll. My body begins to shake, but it’s not really my body, simple form. I am a form, and my form shakes. Sobs rack through my bare body as the full weight of what is happening hits me. I drift in the never-ending blackness, somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness. Tears joining the water that I will float in for a lifetime.
A voice, clear and smooth, rings through my head. It takes me a minute to realise that it is addressing me and a minute longer to recognise the voice. The voice that I would travel to the ends of both worlds to hear again.
“Why do you cry?” She asks, her voice like a ringing bell, drawing more tears to my eyes.
I shake my head, the only movement I’m able to achieve.
“Why do you cry?” She asks again, my mother.
I feel her warmth, her light radiating in this cold place, familiar and welcoming. The soft sweetness of her voice shocks me. I never thought I would hear her again. I feel a familiar hand brush against my cheek, soft and caring. Real?
“Why do you cry, daughter?” She repeats, her face forming before me.
Despite everything, despite the death and the loss and the pain, I smile. Smile through the tears, through the agony of nothing, through the darkness, through the doubt.
“Because I am tired,” I reply, my voice a low hum plagued by everything that she is not. “Because I am tired of this fighting, of this pain.”
She smiles. Even sad, she is beautiful. My mother’s warm red lips graze my forehead, the touch lighting up my body with warmth and light.
“Then come home.”
Her voice recedes into the dark swirling mass. I beg for her return as I crawl after her, after her warmth and her light, only to find a new path. One of flame and despair, unsurprisingly familiar. Taking an un-needed breath, I close my eyes, finding comfort in the face of my mother as her smile forms inside my head.
As I cross the threshold, from this world of endless black into one of endless pain, I find that I am happy to be leaving. Quiet is for the boring.
* * *
Gabriel
“NO.” Her cry shatters my world. Her voice, full of anger and pain and love, shatters my disappearing world.
The pain in my gut is excruciating. It spreads through my body as the wound deepens and spreads, the sword falling to the ground beside my quaking body.
“No, no, no.” She swears, her cold, shaking hands grip my face, dragging my head to look up at her eyes.
Her eyes, clear, blazing rosy gold, cause me to skip a breath. Taking in her too pale skin and her blood smeared face, I feel intense hate. Hate for myself, for Lucien, and the world for making her go through this. For making a girl of peace go through the most unforgiving pain.
“I-I’m here,” she says, her lips wobbling as tears begin to spill from her eyes. Leaving a clear path of skin, clean of blood and grime. “I came back, I came back, to you, Gabe.”
As the pain becomes a twinging nuisance, memories begin to settle again why I am lying on the ground, why I’m so relieved to see her forgiving features. Why I’m dying. The realisation blooms inside her mind portrayed perfectly across her stunning face. She doubles over, wailing into my chest. Unable to do anything else, I fight the barking pain. I stroke her hair, humming an unrecognisable tune.
“I love you too.” She says through sobs, and suddenly… it’s okay. “I love you,” she repeats, “I love you; I love you; I love you.”
She says it like the words are going to keep me on this side of life like it is a spell created just for the both of us. I say it too. And everything is okay. It’s okay.
She finally looks up, looks into my eyes, stroking her thumb over my cheek, wiping away the tears.
“Leave them,” I say weakly, groaning as pain slices up my neck, “please.”
She nods, never taking her gaze from mine. “Let’s stay like this forever.” She whispers, gathering me up to rest against her body. “You in my arms, just the two of us, no one else.”
“Yes, yes, let’s do that,” I say, my breath becoming shallower with every word, every breath that I lose.
She continues to wail, her body shaking under me. All I can do is watch and hold on.
“You’ll be alright?” I whisper, asking again when she doesn’t reply.
Eventually, she looks back to me. “Will you stay if I say no?”
I laugh softly, wincing as it makes my body shake, causing the wound to grow. “I-I’ll never leave you, Di.”
She nods, closing her eyes, allowing the tears to flow down. “You’ll never leave me.” She sobs, touching her forehead to mine.
It takes me a moment to realise she has spoken. Maybe it’s because we’re whispering, or maybe it’s because it’s getting increasingly hard to focus, to breathe. But I steel myself, drawing in just enough breath to reply. “Never.”
And it’s okay now. It’s okay.
It’s oblivion.
* * *
Dianna
The scream rips through my throat as Gabe’s body erupts into flames in my arms and disappears. The burns on my arms and the side of my face un-noticed as I stare up at the warlock whose hand is still outstretched, as he gri
ns with the delight of his kill.
The world explodes.
I become the ancient power. I become what has been living inside me for the past few weeks, for perhaps my whole life. I become something ancient, something dangerous. Light explodes from every pore of my body as I rise and walk over to Cormac O’Sullivan, placing my hand upon his chest.
I smile as he screams, a shattering cry that halts the sound of battle around us. And as his skin begins to boil, as he melts into nothing, I simply gaze at my hand.
My skin seems to be moving. No, beneath my skin, something moves, something shines. I am radiating light, sunlight, blinding and hot. Everything I see is concentrated and focused one hundred times more. Everything that I smell is stronger. Everything that I sense is horrifying. I am a living beacon. A living light pulsing, casting a bright glow that causes the Xavia to flee. Turning my palm over, I stare as the light begins to fade. Everything becomes once again dark and painful. The absence of my light and warmth is stark. As I look over to the black scorch mark now burned into the cement, the light fades into nothing. Fire blooms inside my chest as I continue to stare, unable to move.
He was dying anyway. My head swears. But the agony is still blinding, fire burning me from the inside. This pain, this is what will undoubtedly haunt me for my entire life. The guilt, the rage, the sorrow. All of it, forever. Every inch of my body, every fibre of my soul, longs to plunge into the dark after him. Despite the eternity I have already spent there, I would jump right back if I could if I could just stay with him.
The cries and dins of battle have stopped, but the world has begun screaming. A sound so painful it shoots daggers through my ears and pierces my heart. I connect the cries to a girl, bloody and weak from fighting. I connect everything. I remember everything as Anne and Ty come into view, collapsing to their knees around the scorch mark that is all that is left of the once loved Protector, Gabe.