"Are you really going to sit there and brood all night, Alaric?"
The voice cut through the heavy stillness of the evening, laced with teasing laughter that floated like smoke in the crisp air of Wisteria.
I glanced sideways, catching a glimpse of woman's silhouette against the darkening sky, the faint glow of the lanterns illuminating her features. Her hair danced in the gentle breeze, looks alive with an aura that seemed entirely at odds with the weight of my silence. "Brooding is a vital part of my artistic process," I replied, my tone dry but filled with playful resolve. Someone has to uphold the tradition of the everlasting torture."
She rolled her eyes, stepping closer, the amber light slicing through her luminous form. "If only you'd let others in, perhaps your 'artistic process' wouldn't be so lonely."
"Loneliness has its advantages," I said, crossing my arms over my chest as I leaned against the weathered stone wall of the chapel. "It allows you to observe the world without interference."
"Or it leaves you watching life pass by like a fleeting dream. You're mortal, Alaric, not a statue." Her words lingered in the air, each syllable striking like the tolling of the nearby chapel bell.
The lingering sound felt more real in this moment, like an echo of a reminder I both embraced and ran from, the truth she'll never know. "Perhaps I have grown fond of watching."
"You're avoiding the point," she retorted, her soft laughter lilting through the evening chill as if weaving a delicate tapestry to go along with each word. "besides the festival is starting soon, and you can't simply hide."
"The festival," I repeated, my voice low, almost solemn, as if tasting the word produced a bitter aftertaste. Festivities filled with laughter and folklore that seemed a world away from my reality. "What do they celebrate, exactly?"
She leaned in, her breath forming small clouds in the cool air. "Life, joy, community—everything you keep at arm's length. Come on, Alaric. Don't you want to experience that?"
"If only I could trust it."
She tilted her head, scrutinizing me with those oceanlike eyes that shimmered in the soft light. "You act as if you're cursed to watch from the sidelines. I've seen the shadows beneath your stoic exterior, you know. You think you're alone in this pain? Everyone feels and have felt pain"
The night seemed to hold its breath in that moment. "You don't understand, ▄▄▄ . Curses are not something we can debate over a warm cup of cider," I said, frustration slipping into my voice despite myself. "There are consequences to letting people in. You'll see."
"Is that really how you see me? A naive girl lost in dreams? I know the darkness that clings to you, Alaric. I've felt it once too and believe me, Alaric. The pain you view as curse will subside."
I turned my gaze to the horizon, where the last traces of sunlight succumbed to darkness, a deep sigh escaping me. "If…if you felt it before then why place yourself in the crosshairs of my recklessness?"
"Because…someone has to, and I can't let you stand alone when you view this world ,filled with so much light, full of darkness ."
"Light?" A bitter chuckle escaped, quickly swallowed by the night. "The light is fleeting. All things must return to shadow eventually."
She stepped back, hurt glazing over her features, yet the fire she contained remained unextinguished. "You think I don't know about darkness? You think I'm merely a reflection of your 'eternal' struggle? I carry my own pain here, beneath the surface."
"You don't. You don't know what grief is. You aren't burdened with the weight of 'centuries'," I shot back, the words burning in my throat like embers igniting a long incombustible rage.
"Try me," she whispered, and her eyes sparkled with a mix of challenge and understanding. "Tell me what haunts you. Let me share that burden, or do you believe lasting friendships mean nothing? You isolate yourself in misery while I…"
The words hung like a fragile thread between us. I couldn't bear the thought of dragging her deeper into my cursed existence. "You shouldn't be tethered to my fate, ▄▄▄ ."
"Fate? You think I'm afraid of it? Is that what holds you back? Your fears? It's not only your destiny that intertwines with darkness, you know," she said with unyielding fierce, the warmth of her spirit a stark contrast to the chill wrapping around my heart.
"Haven't you heard what they say? Shadows cling to those touched by grief. They linger like a festering wound, and I've already seen too many suffer because of my existence."
"Then suffer with me," she countered firmly, stepping forward again. "You don't have to walk this path alone. Invite me in; let me hold your darkness alongside mine. Show me."
I gritted my teeth, staring into her earnest gaze, the abyss silvered with hints of long-buried memories. "And what if—"
Her voice cut in through my hesitation. "What if you might find a way to break free?"
I stepped closer, caught in the gravitational pull of her words, an emotion rising that I dared not name—it was absurd, it was frightening, it was hope. "You're risking too much for a chance with me."
"I'm not afraid of the consequence," she said, her chin lifted defiantly, a resolve bubbling through her like an unyielding stream. "Life is meant to be lived, Alaric. Now, would you like to waste this moment brooding in a corner, or join me to experience the world we both secretly crave?" The festival gathered its momentum nearby, laughter and music spilling like waves of color into the night. Life thrummed through the cobblestone streets, and for a brief second, I found myself awash in its promise. But this will, this choice—we were entwined in the hesitation of the possibility.
I clenched my jaw. "This pain you see as bravery… it will not end well."
"And this stoic isolation will not lead to regrowth, I assure you." Her voice softened, breaking against the barriers I built. "That's why you're truly afraid, to have a new growth. But I will not run from this."
I stared at her. "You'll push me into the abyss and I'll push you way deeper."
"Only if you let me and only if you truly dare to."
"▄▄▄ …"
"Don't '▄▄▄ ' me," she said, her trademark spark igniting again, crinkling at the corners of her eyes. "Let me show you what it feels like to embrace joy, even if it comes with suffering later. I swear if anyone can get you dancing among the stars, it's me."
Behind us, a melodic chant began to rise, pulsing through the air like a wave crashing upon the shore. "You know what you want. You want to be a part of it." With that temptation, I felt the barriers shifting, each sighing structure creaking under the weight of our shared burden.
"Alright…" I began, but doubt still lingered. "But if you feel my presence is bringing darkness—"
"We'll break that cycle together." She grasped my hand with a fierce determination, intertwining our fates with a single tether, binding all hesitations with the warmth of her heart. "We have to start somewhere."
"Then I will endure this chaos, but…" I hesitated, a sliver of future conflict stretching ahead of us. "If anything goes wrong…"
"We face it together."
"Together," I echoed, a promise fueled by uncertainty and possibility, and as the festival drew me further into its
embrace, I felt a spark igniting a part of me long thought buried beneath centuries of sorrow—life. "Now, come on! They'll be starting without us!" She laughed, pulling me toward the lively square, lantern light spilling over cobblestone and music rising like breath. Her fingers were warm around my wrist—then a jolt. Someone slammed into my shoulder, hard enough to snap my head back. The sound fractured: laughter warped into shouting, music into a low, panicked roar. When I turned again, the square had rotted into smoke and shadow, the crowd a faceless surge pressing past me as if I no longer mattered.
I saw her then—bound at the pyre, ropes biting into her arms, flames licking the air without yet touching her. She was smiling. Not afraid.▄▄▄ . Our eyes met, or I thought they did.
I tried to scream her name, but the sound broke apart before it left my mouth. I shoved through the crowd, reaching for her, every step heavier than the last. The heat from the pyre stung my skin, smoke burning my eyes, yet she only smiled—calm, unmoving—ropes tight around her wrists.
My fingers came close enough to feel the air shift, close enough to swear I could touch her, but there was nothing to grasp. An unseen force wrenched me backward before our hands could meet. Her voice carried one last time through the roar of flames—thank you—already thinning, already fading.
The world snapped. There was suddenly a loud noise of a shattering glass. I jolted awake with a sharp breath, arms still outstretched, heart hammering, as though pulled from a deep, familiar dream. The room was dim, shadows stretching across the walls, and a strange tingling sensation spread through my limbs—like the aftermath of a sudden shock. The kitchen across the room shows the scattered remnants of a once-pristine plate on the floor , now reduced to jagged shards of porcelain. Each fragment caught the light, reflecting a glint of white a midst the chaos.
The air was thick with the suddenness of the break, the sharp sound still echoing in the silence. I couldn't help but remember the dream again. It was familiar, a familiar scene, a familiar woman but I couldn't remember it. I can't remember when it happened or if it even happened. My mind was a mess, the same woman kept infiltrating my dream over and over again. She was someone I knew and it seems like she knew me but at the same time I couldn't help but feel strange — unfamiliar.
My heart racing as I sat up in bed. I took a deep breath to calm myself, I glanced around the room moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a pale glow on the scattered porcelain pieces across the kitchen floor. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, feet meeting the cool wooden floor, and padded barefoot into the kitchen. Kneeling down, I gingerly swept the shards into a dustpan, the sharp edges glinting under the dim light. After disposing of the broken pieces in the trash, I made my way to the bathroom. The cold water splashed against my face, the chill invigorating my senses. As I wiped my face with a towel, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. The reflection staring back was unfamiliar—eyes wide with exhaustion, hair tousled from sleep. I lingered, studying the face before me, as if searching for a clue to the disorienting start to my night. I couldn't help but remember the day again. The day I became a monster in their eyes.