Savage Hearts

Fyre

The world is cruel, but I'm crueler.

If the love of my entire life could choose someone else over me on a night that meant the most to both of us, I deserve to kill more than five thousand people.

I should wage war on the whole world for a hundred more years.

The humiliation never just vanishes; it remains, just as the pain did, the hurt, the betrayal, every minute that passes, every soul taken. I'm reminded of his hollow words; he never meant it.

He never loved me like I did.

I don't even remember who I am anymore. He made a burning queen go cold.

Blood streamed from my eyes as I cried out in agony; the whip I had struck hundreds with in a second fell off from my hand.

A snort came out of my nostrils as I sniffed them back in.

The man I loved, a warlord feared by so many, speaks, and everyone, old and young, listens to him. He controls the northern region and ruled over them; in that icy heart of his, he made a space for me, hot enough to burn, cold enough to endure-the perfect temperature.

We were both gods in our own right.

Like fire to ice, I'd melt him, and he always was pleased with it.

Our love was always doomed, but he assured me that he wasn't like the others who mocked me for being a shadowborne. Who was made out to be an outcast born out of wedlock.

He gave me hope and crushed it under his fist.

The sound of his armored steps was heavy on the blood-soaked floor as he approached me. My head bent low, utterly defeated, waiting to claim the life he once loved and cherished, his war-forged blade's sharp edge poised before me.

I gave myself the chance to speak, as it likely would be the last time I'll have a voice.

"Why didn't you hate me like the others did?" I demanded, surprised by my firmness, thinking it would crack and I'd see myself crying all over again, "You should've done that from the start."

I lifted my head to look him directly in the eyes.

"When they called me a witch, you called me powerful. When they called me dangerous, you told me the world would learn to fear me one day. Now how can you turn your back on me? How can you choose another? How can you-how can you say I was never enough?" I asked brokenly.

"I never said that." His next words came out cold, emotionless, and final.

"You don't need words to speak, Alistair... actions matter. The fact you never once told me... I loved you. Or did that never mean anything to you?" I swallowed my words painfully.

"You knew we were both doomed, yet you fell in love with me. I promised you nothing; those were just the lies you filled your head with. I liked our moments together, Fyre... but I can't love you the way you want."

"Why?"

"You are... You are ..."

"Say it!"

"You are a shadowborne Fyre! And not just any shadowborne..." His voice thundered throughout the hall, his grip tightening around his sword.

I let out a slow, mocking clap.

"I've always been Shadowborne. We do not walk into light. We linger in shadow. And yet... you made me see it differently, you brought me to the light, and I always knew my place. And here you are, pretending like you didn't know. Why? Why now?" My breathing staggered.

"I didn't know your story then, and when I knew, it was too late."

"What story? That I'm a child whose mother, a goddess of nature, had an affair with darkness? Everyone knew that; it's the sole reason why I grew up alone and the reason you got close to me," I spat.

"Fyre, I never got close to you because of that... I just saw you lonely... I should kill you." He averted his gaze when I breathed in deep. "Everyone is waiting for your head."

"Then what are you waiting for? Do it and go receive the glory you've always wanted."

The sword scratched the surface of the floor as he lifted it, ready to strike me down. He whispered aloud, "May we never meet in our next life."

He lied.

For immortals like ourselves, there was no next life.