One last time

They don’t care who you are.

They don’t care what you are.

Nothing matters.

To them-

To him, you are disposable.

To him, you are weak. Useless. Nothing but a grain of sand beneath his shoe.

I know this from personal experience.

For twelve years I was the King’s prized possession, his loyal assassin. I was praised by the guards, held on a pedestal by anyone and everyone loyal to him. I killed every person he asked, exterminated every target he gave to me, completed every mission. No questions, no hesitation. I did everything he wanted, and he still threw me away, sent me out in the elements to die, to perish beneath the snow and ice of Winter’s icy cold hand.

He had promised me life, promised me freedom, told me if I followed every order, I’d one day be free of my responsibilities, and my duties to his kingdom would be fulfilled. I would have been foolish to believe him. He was foolish not to kill me at his own hand.

It happens to all of the greatest solider though, doesn’t it? They are all lied to, promised lives of luxury and freedom until the Royals they’d been devoted to all their lives send them off to die, and many of them do. I was determined to live, just to prove him a fool, just to see the fury in his eyes when he realized he had failed.

Throughout a span of eleven months following my disposal, I’d spent day and night planning, preparing, readying myself to finally carry out a mission of my own choosing, one that would save any child from falling into the same fate I had. I made a promise after he’d threw me away, not only to myself, but to everyone living in his kingdom: this would not happen to another child.

So for eleven months, I waited, and I planned, keeping myself in wait until Winter yet again laid his hand to the world, coating the Earth in a thin, white coat. I found it fitting, overthrowing the throne during Winter’s claim on the world, the same time he had tried to terminate my existence.

By the day of, I was bustling with adrenaline, ready for what the day would bring. I was horribly mistaken.

It had taken hours to get through the guardline, to fight my way through the treacherous maze of the palace halls, ones I knew and walked for years. By the time I reached the throne room, it was nearing midnight, and the sky outside had darkened to a pitch black abyss with only the pale light of the moon illuminating the outside world. I limped into the room, my bones weary and my muscles aching from the strain I had put on them. He sat, perched high on his throne, his chin in his palm, and a bored expression on his face as he shook his head at my battered appearance.

“I should’ve known, you always were so stubborn,” He murmured, sighing softly. “I should’ve killed you myself and saved myself this trouble.”

His words did not spark a fire in me, as they would have many others. They did not set me alight, or compel me to hurry the actions I was prepared to carry out. I had known exactly what he was hoping to accomplish with his words. He was prepared to spark my anger, to drive me into slow descending madness, to cause many errors on my part. I would not give in to his words. This King, no longer my own, was to die today, and to die at my hands whether or not I faced consequences afterward.

Reaching into my coat, I grabbed the thick spine of the book, the only mother left to me long ago, before Death outstretched his hand and stole her from me. Throwing it at the King’s feet, it echoed as it hit the polished tile, flipping open.

His deep throaty chuckles sounded throughout the room as he gestured to the book. “What is this? Is this supposed to intimidate me? That is nothing but a piece of garbage.”

“That garbage is my mother’s. I found it after you disposed of me. In it-”

“Was your mother’s, you mean, yes?” He smirked, cutting me off mid sentence. I gritted my teeth, my molars aching.

“Yes. It was my mother’s. In it, your actions detailed. Every single thing you did to Eliza Cawthorn is written inside those pages, right beside the word spoken by the Gods themselves. What you did was so horrible, so horrendous she wrote it in the Godsdamned Codex!” I paused my ramble, taking a breath, dimming my anger. I was not to get angry, not to lose my head. Be cautious, be patient.

“You, Sire, are the reason she took Death willingly by the hand, the reason I grew up without my mother. Aligning myself with you is and always will be one of my greatest regrets, my biggest mistake in life, and so I shall spend every moment for the rest of eternity atoning for my actions under your name. And yet, the weapon cannot be charged for the evilness of the wielder.”

Taking another soft breath, I keep my voice steady and quiet, making sure every word could be heard clear as day. “You ruined the lives of many, and for that may the Gods decide your punishment in the Afterlife, but in this present moment, may your fate be at rest in my very capable hands.”

He cackled, throwing himself to his feet, drawing his blade. “You think yourself a match to my strength? You seem to forget, I saved you! You are nothing but a lesser version of me!” He sneered, spittle flying from his lips.

Saved me? I nearly screamed before thinking better of it.

Breathe, calm yourself, do not react.

“You think so highly of yourself, you speak to me as though I am lesser than you, and perhaps in terms of title and rank, I am, but you seem to forget Sire, that you alone have abandoned your people, your kingdom. You alone have left them alone to starve and to perish beneath Winter’s cold hand while you sit in this Godsdamned palace with your belly stuffed every night!” I shouted, gesturing to the ice cracked windows and what lay beyond.

“You always were so stubborn, so idiotic. You thought of the best for everyone, not for what you needed. I should have left you to die ages ago.” He snarled, his lip quivering in anger, his eyes shining with a clear disgust and a burning hatred.

I didn’t bother to respond, I was done trying to be civil.

In a swift move, I drew my bow from my back, nocked an arrow, and let it fly. His gasp echoed through the near silent halls, his lips parted in a horrified shock. Blood trickled down his shirt, staining the perfectly polished flooring as it dripped. His sword clattered from his hand, dropping to the floor beside him as he collapsed to his knees, staring at me in disdain.

“You had me do this very same action hundreds of times to innocent people who you believed to be a threat to your power. You had me destroy hundreds of lives for your own good, so you, the tyrant you are, could keep this throne to yourself!” A sudden breeze ripped through the curtains of the open windows, swirling around the room angrily before settling at my feet, as if it could sense my anger. Thunder boomed outside of the palace where the God of the Sky furiously sat, watching this scene unfold. “For too long you have sat on the throne of the Gods and claimed to be one yourself, declaring yourself a Godspeaker. You are nothing of the sort. So in this day, I shall return this throne to its rightful owners. I believe now is finally the time in which you get to see just how it feels to be beneath your own assassin’s blade.”

A smile, cold and cruel, crept onto my face, the same one he’d seen thousands of times, the same one he recognized and knew all too well.

I pulled another arrow, raised my bow, watched the horror and despair in his eyes as he slowly crawled along the floor away from where I stood. There was a pleading his eyes beheld as he turned back to me, a begging of mercy.

“It is funny, the secrets you can uncover if you just…look.” I whispered, glancing to the book I had thrown. “It is funny that you now beg for my mercy, knowing you will receive none.”

The wind raged, tussling with the stands of my unkempt hair as rain began to pour outside, pounding against the roof. Lightning stuck, thunder boomed, the wind howled. The temperature dropped with Winter’s fury, to a cold beyond the point of freezing. And yet, in the middle of it all I stood, and let my arrow fly.

It pierced through his neck, splitting his throat. A horrible gurgling sound came from his parted lips as he collapsed forward onto his stomach. His head turned in my direction, a deeper pleading in his eyes, as if begging me to end his suffering. My smile grew brighter, the wind cackled, Winter withdrew his temper, the storm outside calmed to a mere shower, all of us waiting.

I stood there, watching the light slowly dim from his eyes, watching the life fade from his body, seeing the realization cross his face that I, his once loyal killer, would again become his killer one last time.

I didn’t spend long there after he had died, just as I never did with any of my victims. I saw him die through his eyes, I saw life fade, I saw the anger be solidified evermore, I saw his chest stop rising. I knew he was gone. After so many years of bodies at my feet, it was easy to tell when someone’s soul had departed from this world.

The wind fluttered around me once more, a promise, a foretelling that one day I would be needed again. Thunder struck one last time, and the rain faded, a show of gratitude perhaps, from the Sky God himself, thanking me for making this world one less tyrant free.

Walking forward, I bent, grabbing my mother’s book, rereading the page it had fallen open to, my anger simmering beneath my skin as I read the details, the things she had been powerless to stop. I turned to the window, seeing in it, my own reflection. My skin was pale, my clothes ripped and torn, blood staining my skin and soaking my hair.

Standing, I turned to the King’s corpse, seeing my arrow embedded in his thick neck, the blood seeping out onto the tile. I glanced back down at the book I held, rubbing my thumb across her words, the words so awful she’d written them where only the Gods and I could see.

“He’s gone, Mama. He can’t hurt us anymore. The monster is gone.” I whispered softly, words opposite to those she once said to me, right before she’d tucked me into bed, before she’d slit her own neck ear to ear to escape her torment.

I read the last line in her Codex one last time, tracing every letter with my finger.

The monster isn’t gone, I couldn’t stop him, my strength wasn’t enough. I’m sorry, my love.

Gazing at the King’s corpse, I didn’t spend another moment reminiscing in her words, reminding myself of all of which had haunted her. I didn’t need to. I remembered everything. Every word down to the letter. So I slammed the Codex shut, letting the cover protect the hauntings she’d written inside, dropped it on the floor and lit a match. I watched as the past set alight, illuminating the room, ending this nightmare once and for all. The monster was gone. I was free.

We were all… free.