Page 19 of Of Realms and Chaos

“Touch her, and I will rip your heart from your chest and feed it to your plants,” he seethed.

Mia growled, a deep sound I would have never thought could come from her whimsical and usually soothing voice. Winona let out a faint gasp as the vines tightened, and I could not stop myself from reaching out a hand in her direction, prepared to save her in any way possible.

“Please, Mia, do not do this. Do not hurt them. I beg you! Just let them go,” I said, the words pouring out of me with such speed that they became muddled.

The queen heard though because the look of realization on her face was obvious. My mistake was not silently going with her when I had the chance; I understood that then. Now she knew what side I had chosen, and it was not hers.

Her eyes flicked between Bellamy and I, eventually settling on him as he moved to push me behind him. I wrapped my arm in his, trying and failing to reclaim my position in the front. No one but I deserved Mia’s wrath, and no one but I would kill her.

“I see. It seems you have let them taint you, little love. An unfortunate turn of events. Which means you have forced my hand.” As if her propensity for the dramatics won out, Mia tightened her hand, forming a fist. The vines slithered up Winona’s neck like snakes, suffocating her.

I dropped to my knees, listening as Ranbir begged for Mia to take him instead, watching as the queen smiled his way. Bellamy refused to let me go, falling to the ground with me.

“Spare her, please! Take me, I will go with you! Please, do not hurt her!”

Mia would not, could not, hear reason.

“No, Ash!” Winona rasped, wiggling against the vines, her face gaining a moderately purple hue. A breeze came, blowing the scent of lilacs my way. The scent of Mia. I raged against Bellamy’s hold, needing to get to Winona.

He suddenly got to his feet, flames lighting his arms. He ran at Mia, throwing balls of fire that left her dodging and sending piles of sand to compensate. Plant life continued to attack the Trusted, forcing them to fight for their lives while Winona’s remained so clearly at risk. For a moment, Bellamy and Mia remained in a deadly battle, his sword of fire only barely grazing her cheek to draw first blood. But Mia was as strong as she was smart. One of the strongest Earth’s to grace the Fae Realm, in fact. And she would not yield.

He continued to gain the upper hand, tearing through her plants and leaping over branches. Every time she would rip the ground apart, he would stitch it back together. A growl of frustration left her lips when he combated her barely formed strike of sand, and all at once, thorned vines were barreling towards me. I gasped, shoving at her mental shields with all of my strength, but it was as if they were fortified with a second consciousness somehow.

Bellamy screamed, throwing a wall of scorching fire in front of me. It was too late by the time we both realized what Mia had done, the distraction she had utilized, as one of those vines speared through his shoulder, sending him flying backwards.

Suddenly, I too was standing, raising my dagger to her. The queen giggled as if the sight of me doing such a thing was a joke. Smaller vines reached up, wrapping around my wrists and ankles. Holding me still. Horrifying defeat consumed me as, with a great shove, I tried and failed to break through her mental shields.

“Take this as a lesson, you traitorous little thing. The more you love, the more you stand to lose. And I vow to be the one ripping it all away from you. Come home or watch as everything you love withers before you.”

“I love you,” Winona said to her husband, just as Mia conjured a thorned dagger and swiped it across the Sun’s neck. Mia let her fall, and then the mahogany-haired male was by her side, smiling as Winona hit the ground with a fleshy thud.

Ranbir—always so soft spoken, so controlled—screamed out, breaking down before us. He fought viciously against the vines, but he was no match for Mia.

“Not my wife, please! Please, not my wife! Not her! Please, not my wife!” Over and over again he chanted the same words, and sometime in that span of a handful of seconds, I wormed my way past Mia’s shields. Past the strange black that sat behind them, now no more than a mist, as if it were distracted.

I could kill her, end it all. She would fight it, but I would be triumphant. Yet, in that second, I faltered. Was it fear that stopped me from crushing her mind? Love?

My single instant of hesitation—a horrible lapse in judgment—was all it took. Blowing a kiss and offering a wink, the male held onto Mia, black shadows engulfing them. Leaving nothing but their scent and the bodies around us.

Ranbir, now free after finally killing off the plants, darted to Winona’s side, his hands alight with his healing power. I knew, though, that she was gone. That so many were gone. Because of me. Because I could not simply kill Mia when I had the chance.

I was not the only one thinking so. In Ranbir’s mind, he too hated my lack of action. He too knew that I could have stopped her. He too placed the blame on me.

The others rushed to the fallen Sun, crowding her body and shouting through their tears. Her green hair was just as blood soaked as Ranbir’s white top, her throat ripped open wide.

Bellamy was nearby, holding a hand to his torn shoulder while he bent over a body that was so mangled and bloody it was nearly unrecognizable. Yet I knew just by the shredded velvet clothes and the wrinkled tan skin that it was Pino.

The prince closed the Oracle’s remaining eyelid then slowly made his way to Winona. I stayed rooted in place and watched on as Bellamy fell to his knees beside Ranbir, placing one shaking arm around his mourning friend and his free hand on Winona’s forever still face.

“May they return to Eternity,” I whispered without intending to, my ears ringing and my eyesight fogging.

His sobs were the last thing I heard before I began running. I could not be there, could not listen to Bellamy’s grief. Could not see the gore that I helped create. Could not listen to Ranbir’s mental or physical voice as he prayed for his wife to return. His other half. His world.

My feet took me all the way to Bellamy’s home, the castle of night and blood—a name so fitting for the recent tragedy. It had sustained some damage, mostly walls and windows shattered, but there was no actual carnage here.

The second I made it through the entrance, my feet took me up. Up. Up until I was in front of a set of doors I had only seen once. I shoved them open, walking into an all-white room with a dazzling chandelier. In the center lay a black pianoforte, small red designs painted onto it.

Beautiful. So incredibly beautiful. Too beautiful.

---