A Parting

The blood dripped down the tip of my sword, leaving a trail of ardour along the ruined rubble as I walked toward her. I knew what had to be done. The balance of this earth rested on the edge of my sharp blade.

I ignored the ticking of my conscience and let my adrenaline guide me. The rain pounded around me like an oppressive ruler, but that didn’t stall me, or change my path. In fact, the all-consuming wetness of my clothes sticking against my body—long pushed past the point of comfort—reminded me of the cold nature of this world. I was just a soldier playing a part. There were no winners or losers, only assigned roles to ensure the game would never end.

This is what kept me moving, even as I got closer and began to make out detail in her trembling shape on the ground. Tensed arms, hands gripping the earth as if she could physically hold herself to this world. Rough skin, marred with the quiet remnants of adventurous times. Breath that came out in shaking waves, weak, but still warm enough to be visible against the shiver of the rain. A resilient soul determined to stay.

I walked quicker, letting the fierce droplets of rain attack my pallid skin. Allowing the wind to pull my hair back, revealing my face.

Most decided to cover their eyes. Most couldn’t deal with the look humans get in theirs in the last moment—right before the final strike. Not I.

The blood continued to drip down my sword as I imprinted the final steps in the mud toward her. I steadied my grip on the handle. I had a feeling this one would pose a challenge.

Her fists curled.

I saw the dirt flying before it even left her hand.

My sword pierced a clean line through it, stopping at the tip of her outstretched finger. I leaned forward, leaving my sword to puncture the tip of her finger, then looked right into her eyes.

They were grey, the colour of a stone left along the edge of a beach, worn to its limit by years of abuse. They held back a century of tears. Years of seeing nothing but disappointment. And yet behind this mist, there was still the tiniest of sparks. A will determined to keep on seeing.

I moved my free hand to pat her soaked, muddy hair. “There, there,” I said.

She jolted back, like an old toy revving to life, finding the last of a hidden reserve in her body.

Catching my hand, she pulled it into her mouth and bit down.

My reflexes were such that I could’ve stopped her, but instead, I let her press her teeth into my skin, leaving her final imprints on this earth.

I watched as my blood dribbled down her chin, becoming one with the rain and the sky and her tears.

She looked up. The fiery defiance in her eyes flared once before going out forever.

Her jaw slackened. She blinked back at me with sweet, sad awareness.

I slowly, tenderly, slipped my fingers out of her mouth and smeared the rest of my blood across her cheek.

Seeing the wound in her side and the way she trembled, I knew I wouldn’t have to use my sword at this point. But I wasn’t one to leave the completion of my jobs to the fickle force of nature.

And so, I stood, taking the point of my sword to her chin.

I tipped her head up and locked onto her eyes.

She smiled.

I drew back and matched the shape across her neck.

Her head swung in my hand as I looked up toward a parting in the clouds, where somewhere in that chaos of thunder a cruel god watched on.