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Cathedra - Chapter 7: With Your Own Sword
🕑 Added 2021-10-09 04:04:13 +0000 UTCCW: blood, attempted murder
⦽
Callie grunted when the braided ribbon tightened around her stomach, her hand flying up to press against her distended belly.
“It’s too tight!” she gasped, and Morn immediately let the drawstrings go.
"Already!?” she implored, circling Callie to look down at her stomach the dress could no longer cover. “It’s only been two weeks since we had this one tailored!”
They both looked at her reflection in the mirror when she cupped her growing stomach. “Is it not natural to grow this fast?” she asked hesitantly.
“I’d expect it in an Orc, but you’re human,” she shrugged. “I don’t know what to expect with you. Have you asked the King?” Morn asked, gently tugging the sleeves of the dress down her arms as Callie looked on at her changing body in the tall mirror.
“Last time he saw me I wasn’t this big,” she mumbled, stepping out of the dress.
“Perhaps you should speak to the midwives in his tribe, Your Majesty,” Morn suggested, carefully placing the dress back in it’s box as Callie turned to face her.
“I didn’t know they had midwives,”
“Aye,” she wiggled another loose dress in the air, a pale lavender one she’d worn before and would flow around her body instead of hugging it. “I think you’ll need more of these,”
“How would an Orcish midwife know of a halflings gestation?” Callie asked as she stuck her outstretched arms into the dress.
“Who’s to say they’ve never aided in a halfling's birth? Orcs live for hundreds of years, I’m sure one of them has come across the predicament,” Morn grunted as she dropped it over her head and helped flip and tie the sashes around her shoulders.
Callie glanced between Morn’s hands and face. “Hundreds of years?”
Morn paused when the same realization dawned on her, her hands dropped as the women looked at one another.
“He’ll outlive me,” she said softly, nodding absentmindedly at her own words.
Morn didn’t acknowledge those words, because there was no need to. She knew her Queen was not new to the knowledge of Orcs and their delayed aging, but she figured it had simply not been an issue, until now.
“Aye,” she still answered. “You fell in love with him, didn’t you?” she asked.
Callie nodded, holding her stomach and grinning sadly. “But thankfully my first time falling in love will also be my last,” she said, turning before the gloss coming over her eyes became obvious.
“That is undoubtedly a blessing even though it may be bitter,” Morn agreed, stepping forward to help smooth the dress and tie it in the back. She looked over Callie’s shoulder just as the last of her stray tears were wiped away, her arms coming to wrap around her shoulders for a snug squeeze.
“Don’t waste your days crying, Callie,” she scolded her friend softly, holding her tighter when her face sorrowed. “Tell him so you can cherish the years ahead. Do you want to feel like this until you die?”
Callie shook her head that dropped, her chin trembling. “I wouldn’t wish this agony on anyone,”
“Then no more crying,” Morn ordered, turning her so she could use the sleeve of her own dress to wipe her tears. “You know how to fix this,” she held her shoulders and stiffened them up, Callie mimicking her when she lifted her chin.
With a few stiff nods and fluffing of her hair around her shoulders, Callie composed herself and took a steadying breath, her reflection shifting from a heartbroken girl to a woman who’s spine would not bow to any emotion.
She winced. Maybe just one.
The last of her torment was tucked away when the heavy crown was placed on her decorated head, the polished baby pink horns glowing from the sun that cascaded in all around them. With a final turn and spin, she gave herself a small smile.
“When will he be returning?” Morn inquired as they made their way to the doors, pushing them open to the small group of advisors and servants waiting on them.
“He was supposed to be here yesterday but that last storm tore their usual path apart,” she exhaled, her anxiety rising at the thought. Carving a path up a mountain wasn’t a hazard to humans as it was to Orcs who were naturally heavier, and in addition- Nik and his men were from the grasslands. This terrain was not of the norm to them.
“Another is expected to roll in tonight, Your Majesty,” a Knight interjected politely, his crystal armor twinkling under the beams of sun they passed under.
Callie sucked her teeth. “Normally that would mean a quiet night without visitors, but I don’t think I’ll rest tonight until they return unscathed,”
“Might I suggest we have additional men stationed out across the woods to help direct our King and his men?”
“I think that’s a good idea. Thank you, Legion,” Callie grinned, bowing her head as he did before departing down a separate corridor with more Knights following.
“What’s planned for the day then?” Callie asked, looking over to her advisor's journal and following his finger down the list. Town tours, meetings, approvals- it seemed every task she could think of was on this list. “If we’re doing this much riding today I need to go back for my cloak,”
“Would you like for me to go back?” Morn asked, but Callie shook her head.
“I’ll go with you.”
The brief walk back was made, and although a smile was plastered across Callie’s face when they stepped into her room, the ever distinct feeling that she had to look over her shoulder jumped into her bones.
Callie shuddered, quickly turning to check behind herself, but only found the doorway they just walked through.
She looked around, the familiarity of this sensation gripping her frame making her pulse rise quickly.
The door was closed enough to see the sensed threat was not behind the door, and the curtains were drawn open. They couldn’t fit behind there, or there, or that-
But she looked to her bed, her eyes darting to the blankets covering the openings to crawl beneath the expansive mattress.
Callie swallowed, sweat collecting across her body.
“Morn,” she called her sternly, reaching a hand out without moving the rest of her body.
Morn turned with a grin, stopping in her tracks when taking in Callie’s demeanor. Without a word in question she hurried to her side, following her eyes to where she was looking at the foot of her bed.
“What is it?” she hissed, pulling back on her arm when Callie continued to stand stiffly and stare.
She could not detail just how overcome she was by the pure malice that would often accompany her sister's presence, but the fear was unmistakable, as was her sense for it.
With a few quick steps, Callie had moved to her dresser and dug blindly until she pulled out Nik’s dagger, yanking off the sheath.
She adjusted her hold around the thick handle, her breath flaring through her nostrils as she gathered the terror quaking in her limbs.
“Your Majesty?” Morn asked, eyes wide and taking a few fearful steps back.
When Callie pulled at the covers draping over the edge of the bed away and dropped to her knees with the dagger raised and ready to plunge into whoever may lay beneath the bed, she instead found emptiness. She released the breath she’d been holding, her big eyes still jumping from corner to corner, doubting her vision when the terror still hung on her like a wet sheet.
“Where is-” she breathed, blinking when her eyes adjusted and she could see something small, and crinkled at the center.
She took in another sweep of the underside of the bed before getting down on her side to reach for what was laid in the middle. Her fingertips brushed it’s delicate form, hissing when something sharp nicked her fingertip.
Carefully she dragged it out, lifting the lush rose in her hand to stare down at its beauty.
“A rose?” Morn asked, stepping towards her.
“Rose,” Callie whispered. Her composure wavered, a long dormant sense of hopelessness blooming in her chest. “Rose,” she said again, lifting it towards Morn. She didn’t have the words to describe the parallel, but with only a few quick seconds of thought, Morn’s face dropped.
“Is…?” Morn stuttered, looking around the room.
“I did not place this here,” Callie stood, the rose hanging loosely in her hands as the dark energy filling her room settled, and rested. It would linger here, as would her presence in the castle, like it always did even when she was away.
“Patricia was here,” Callie looked around again, watching Morn do a few circles.
“How did she come in so fast?” she struggled to understand, looking at the door. “We were gone only briefly!”
“She comes when you least expect it,” Callie recalled, grabbing Morn’s arm as she passed and pulling her out of the room.
“KNIGHTS!” Callie yelled, her call carrying far down the corridors.
The advisors and servants bustled and hurried around them once Morn had filled them in, and within moments, they could all hear the telltale clattering of the Knight’s crystal armor clashing together as they raced to their Queen’s call.
“Your Majesty?” the nameless Knight leading the group called when they approached.
“Have your Knights search the castle- Patricia has slipped in and she's hiding somewhere in these walls,” Callie felt the need to look over her shoulder again, always ready for an attack, but again, no one was there.
“P-Patricia? Former Princess-”
“Yes, her! Now gather more men and move!” Callie ordered angrily, their seconds wasted looking at her skeptically sparking rage under her skin.
They quickly called orders to one another and fanned out, even tediously sweeping the Queen’s room once more before rushing out to carry on down separate paths through the castle.
Morn and Callie hung on to one another, a small grip of advisors and servants dispersing and leaving a pair of Knights with the others that stayed behind.
“We have to keep you here in your room so she can’t surprise us,” Morn looked at her.
Her first instinct was to fight it- she didn’t want to be a sitting duck! But once Nik arrived, she could flee with him back to his tribe where she knew Patricia wouldn’t stand a chance at infiltrating, let alone sneaking up on them.
If she chose to continue wandering around the castle, it could take only one second and small stab of a dagger to end her life, and the little one she had started to speak to in moments of silence.
Callie’s hand moved to her stomach after dropping the rose.
This is why the familiar fear was so powerful. Whereas she had little to live for before, she had too much to lose now.
“Alright,” she nodded, stiffly moving back to her room that had been thrown about by the Knights in their search.
“Shall we have additional men leave to alert the others that have gone in search of the King?” one asked before she stepped in.
“Please,” she nodded, continuing.
“We will be right outside, Your Highness. No harm will come to you.'' The Knights bowed their heads in promise before closing the heavy doors behind him, leaving Morn and a servant with Callie.
They looked at one another in silence, not knowing what to say and too spooked to try and find any words of comfort. The room only had one entrance, for not even the window could be reached this high up, and it had not been disturbed, yet Callie still knew she wouldn’t feel any fragment of peace or security until Nik was back.
⦽
Another wide swing of his blade only took down the shrubbery within arms reach, and still didn’t clear even a beginning to some sort of path for them to start carving into the mountainside.
Jakob snarled loudly, angrily chopping at low hung branches and bushes that were lush with thorns, poking and scratching his already irritated skin. They had been going at it for days, but the terrain was one of the worst across this part of the land. With the daylight fading, another day was coming to a close since the use of their torches would only set ablaze around them in the thick trees.
With a final angry swipe he tired, chuffing loudly and flinging his arms to rid his skin of the chilled rainwater dripping from the canopy.
“Any luck?” Nik asked from behind him, his own arms sliced and scratched by the same foliage they had been working their way through.
“If we stay on this path it will take us weeks to get up there,” Jakob growled back at him, wiping stray leaves and splinters off his arms and chest. “We should just have her come down,”
“We still need a path back to the castle,”
“Fuck the castle, at this rate!” Jakob boomed.
Any energy left to snap at his brother had been spent, and although he wouldn’t say it out loud, he was reaching that point. The constant showers from Spring that was soon to be over had swept a landslide across the usual path he took up the mountain, and it was up to them to make a new one, but there was always the one obstacle they’d come to encounter no matter how many branches and bushels they’d cut apart.
“My King,” a voice from behind him came, and Nik turned to find one of his men coming up with two others, their legs muddy and clothes dirty. By the looks on their faces alone he could tell this arrival brought only news that would turn him sour.
“The river still doesn’t thin out, does it?” Nik asked, and the Orc nodded.
“It seems so far that the spot that was blocked by the landslide was the only safe place for passage for miles on either end,” he explained, their bodies worn and tired.
His face dropped into his hand, rubbing his eyes over his eyelids and groaning to himself.
Days had passed since they’d been at this and the week had closed since he’d last seen Callie, which was far longer he liked to remain absent since finding out she was carrying. Duties and conflicts had pulled him away from the castle where he followed her around mindlessly and willingly, but now it seemed even nature couldn’t stand to have them near one another.
“How much time would we use if we found a path around the other side of the mountain, where it’s clear?” he asked.
Jakob scoffed. “It’s not clear, it’s loose rock that our horses will slip on and snap their necks trying to climb,”
Such limited, shitty options.
Nik felt on edge, rubbing the top of his head as he willed the intense anxiousness riling his stomach to settle down. After this, he’d make sure to bring Callie along with him no matter how much she kicked and screamed about traveling. He simply couldn't bear the agony of not knowing if all was well with her and the baby.
“We’ll call it a night,” he said begrudgingly. “We’ll try another route tomorrow,”
“Perhaps we should call in some of the Ogres to help with this,” Jakob suggested, walking stiffly up to his brother and shaking the last of the splinters and leaves from his blade.
Nik perked up a little. That was a good idea…
“Your Majesty!”
The call was far off in the trees, but they still turned to stand and wait for the voice to sound again.
“Your Majesty!” it came again.
“That doesn’t sound like one of our men,” Jakob mumbled.
Nik shook his head, but then the nightmarish thoughts lept in. Why would they be coming from the castle, at this hour?
He took off, a sudden wave of adrenaline lighting his tired body back up. Jakob and the others yelled after him as he shoved and climbed through branches, bushes and roots, following the calls and roar of the river.
He wanted to know why someone would be calling after him- why they would be screaming for him? What happened? Something must have- why else would this be happening?
Quicker than he expected, he was coming up to the river that flashed white from the ferocity of the racing water, its deafening power taking over the landscape. From across the water and through some trees he could see the glimmering suits the Knights wore, struggling their way through the terrain, their shouts carrying over the water.
“My King!” one shouted after spotting them through the brush, their spears poorly lopping away vegetation for them to crawl through.
“What is it!?” Nik shouted over the water, straining to hear.
A Knight made it out, jogging to the stone edge of the racing river and shouting with his hands cupped around his mouth, “The Queen’s safety has been compromised! You must return to the castle at once!”
Nik froze, the worst his imagination could conjure flashing before his eyes and every fiber of his being screaming to run to her.
⦽
Her hands were numb and cold to the touch from constantly squeezing her fingers, and even when she’d been granted a few minutes to lay down and rest, ever persistent fear kept her on the brink of consciousness. It made her stomach hurt and skin hot, and instead of finding any sleep she only tugged at the sleeves of her dress and cupped her stomach protectively, fighting off cries that shook her shoulders.
Callie waited, and waited for Nik to burst through the door or announce his arrival, but the day was quiet, and tense, and ungodly long.
Every noise made her flinch, every movement she made stiff and unfree of an anxious shake.
When the sun started to fall in the sky, she stared out the window, her eyes peeled and burning but too afraid to blink in case she missed the gleaming smile of her sister from the dark.
When darkness fell over the castle, and the halls remained dim without the servants to light the torches, Callie held Morn’s hand from lighting a candle.
“I don’t want her to know we’re here,” Callie whispered.
Morn stopped the trembling in her lip. “She already knows we’re here, your Majesty. We need our sight if we stand a chance,” she wavered in response, her nerves wrung thin.
She knew that- she’d known that, but had in some way or another denied it long enough until the fear had been spoken of from the lips of another. Until her fears were spoken into existence, she could remain blissfully ignorant a while longer.
Morn shook her hand off, bringing the match to the wick and waiting for the flame to catch.
Callie’s eyes met the pair leering over Morn’s shoulder, Patricia’s sharp smile punching the air from her lungs when she tried to scream, but could only reach and yank Morn away.
They stumbled and fell over one another, the candle dropping as they kicked and screamed to their feet, the room around them black once again.
They clung to one another tightly and spun in the dark room that no noise besides their heavy breathing. Callie tentatively reached her arm out, her hands shaking.
“Mary?” she hissed, her servant who had spent the day with them unaccounted for and unresponsive.
Her face twisted in the dark. “Mary!?” she hissed again, her heart hammering in her ears.
The air around her face grew staticy, her space invaded in the dark.
Callie locked up, her breath catching in her throat when she could make out Patricia’s face before hers.
“My Queen?” she whispered, her cool breath brushing her cheeks.
The women screamed and fled, slamming into the closed door and struggling madly to yank at the iron lock and swing the door open. They crashed into the Knights on the other side, spinning to scream and point into the darkness that was so thick with malice, it could’ve eaten them alive.
“There- in there, she’s in there!” Callie pointed breathlessly, shaking, still trying to back up between the Knights and move as far away from the room as possible.
The Knight’s looked at one another before looking back to her.
“T-that’s impossible, your Majesty,”
“SHE’S IN THERE!” she screamed, her face reddening and Morn trying to calm her.
“My Queen-”
“GO!” she shouted, an insane anger rising in her chest the longer they hesitated to sweep the room of the evil inside.
Their spears lowered, a clear annoyance showing in their shoulders that relaxed when turning to the room and walking into the darkness with ease.
The women stepped away from the door, only silence permeating from the room as they waited, but the longer the absence of any movement from inside drew out, the more it resonated in their hearts that were fluttering between their ribs.
Tick, tick, tick, the seconds slipped by. The world was as dark around them as it was silent, not even the nighttime chorus of Midnight Singers carrying through the trees around them.
“Knights?” Callie called with a shaking voice, her grip still tight around Morn’s wrist.
Morn tugged, pulling her with as she inched from the door. “We need to go!” she hissed, Callie just starting to give in when the sharp scraping of a crystal spear slid across the stone floor to their feet, bumping into her toes.
Callie was yanked away before she could see Patricia fully emerge from the room, but that hair-raising smile was all she needed to turn and start sprinting.
“C’mon, c’mon!” Morn hissed, pulling Callie as fast as her shorter legs could carry her.
She glanced over her shoulder but couldn’t focus with her vision shaking, and Morn tugging on her hand kept her from checking again. They would have to run and hope she wasn’t catching up when they turned corners and raced down corridors.
Only when they had left the higher level of the castle her room was at did they take a moment to press against a cold wall and catch their breaths, their hands over their mouths and fighting not to make too much noise.
“W-where are the other Knights?” Morn whispered, her hands still cupped around her mouth.
“They’ve gone to find Nik or they’re somewhere else in the castle,” she struggled, slowly inching her shoulder back towards the curve in the hall to peek around the corner. “I don't see her,”
“We need to keep moving then!” Morn tugged again at her wrist, peeling her from the wall and sprinting down the stone steps with the Queen in tow. Callie was glancing over her shoulder when she ran hard into Morn’s back, stuttering before stepping around her to stifle a loud gasp.
Three Knights lay slain by the back corridor that lead to the secret entrance Callie had used to get Nik in that first time, their blood smeared across their armor and pooling under their twisted bodies. The stench was putrid and thick around them, sprayed across the walls and floor.
Morn swallowed the vomit climbing her throat, her hand loosening around her mouth. “She could do this?”
Could she? Did she have the capability? Rose had been slain by her hand, but all these other people? Is this what she was sinking to?
“I’ve never seen her do this,” Callie shook furiously, her teeth rattling even. “I don’t think she's any of herself that she used to be,”
“We don't even have a weapon to protect ourselves!” Morn stressed with tears pooling in her eyes, looking down at the Knights. “We could take their spears,”
“It won't help,”
Their heads snapped in the direction of the all too familiar voice, and her silhouette that stood at the entrance to the corridor.
Without a thought, and without another second wasted, they were both sprinting.
The distance put between them and Patricia who again proved to move like a phantom amongst these walls was growing, but with both of their bodies reacting purely off instinct, Callie and Morn hadn’t realized they’d sprinted in opposite directions. Not until Morn came bursting through the hissing pedals of the willow trees outside, her eyes peeled in the dark and realizing Callie wasn’t with her anymore.
“CALISTA!” Morn screamed her name.
By the time Callie heard her name faintly call from outside, she knew Morn wasn’t with her anymore, but it was what she had hoped for.
Although she burned with terror as she ran back the same path she’d been forced down before, she knew that ending up apart served a better chance at finding help. She knew Morn would be smart enough to run and find more people if she couldn’t find her, but until then, Callie would have to fend her murderous sister off in the castle Patricia knew better than her.
She struggled up the steps leading to her room, her chest burning and legs stinging when she came to the top step.
Callie turned to look down the steps, panting and holding her stomach she feared would be stabbed into at any moment.
When her frantic eyes were satisfied that the darkness below held no form of Patricia, she backed up to her room, reaching behind herself to grab for the lock.
The room was cold and quiet, and just as dark as when she’d left.
Her feet bumped into bodies, her whimpers filling the room as she reached blindly around herself. She needed to find the dagger, she couldn’t be completely defenseless.
It’s whereabouts were unknown- she couldn’t even begin to recall where she’d placed it after pacing all day. She bumped into chairs and tables overturned, tripping over the maids dress and falling to her knees loudly.
With a withheld cry she slammed her fist against the ground, slowly hunching over to rest her head against her arms and sob silently.
I want to just hide and cry- I want to just hide and cry-
I want Nik and I want to hide and cry-
The heavy door of her room creaked, and her body froze, her cries halted. She turned her head, her waves falling away from her face as she sat up.
Patricia stepped in without speaking, lingering in the doorway as the sisters looked at each other.
Her face was dark, her body still, just as Callie’s was.
She always did this.
She would stare, and let her presence take over people knowing full well how ominous and cold it was. Countless times before she would walk into her room and stare at her from the door just like she was now, a soft smile usually gracing her pretty face while she stared at her sisters and let her wordless threats sink in.
It turned Callie’s vision red.
How was it, that after all she’d fought to do to become Queen and end her family’s torment, she was here again crying on her floor and tensing for another attack? When had the power shifted?
“I still have you exactly where I want you,” Patricia whispered, the door creaking shut behind her and closing noisily.
It burned deep inside Callie’s heart.
The unfair fate she’d been dealt, the abuse she’d endured over something that was out of her control, driven by her sister's poisonous rage and jealousy- it wasn’t fair it was her burden to carry when she never did anything to deserve it, especially now when she’d been the one to climb to power.
She looked up at her sister who she could hear was approaching, stepping into the small morsel of moonlight casting in through the stained glass windows. The question of whether Patricia was capable of slaying multiple Knights was answered by the blood peppered and sprayed across her dress, hands, face, everywhere.
Any light behind her eyes was gone, her skull holding a pair she no longer recognized.
Callie got to her feet, watching Trish’s eyes take her in.
She scoffed, still unblinking. “So it’s true. Bred by an Orc and carrying his spawn,”
She gathered her confidence, planting herself in the ground like a tree. “Leave him out of this, you bitch,”
Trish giggled, her body at last moving from its stiff stance. “Rest assured, I did not come for your Orc,” she explained, starting to move around Callie who flinched and moved too. “I’ve come to realize something, little sister,”
Callie circled, her back now to her bed as Patricia veered off and wandered to the window, her bloody hands coming to rest against the glass.
“I used to think of the day I would sit at Mother’s throne and look out at the faces that would one day smile and look to me for guidance, and bow at my feet,” she smiled, a dazzling one that wavered unsteadily before it faded. “And when Rose tried to take it away, I thought I’d finally have the chance to take you under my wing- to teach you how to be the lady mother never could be,”
Callie backed up, her back softly hitting the best post as she inched her way towards the wall behind her bed.
“So when I found you to be under the same spell our darling Rose was, imagine how upset I was to discover you were simply another body in my way. My own little sister, the same one who used to follow me around all day,” she huffed, a hand landing on her chest and turning towards Callie once the back of her legs had hit the table at the side of her bed.
“So when you showed up that day, standing beside your King and swiping the thrones from our declining parents, I found within myself that my dream would never come true. I would never admire these walls as my own and hold the arm of a King,” she trailed off, looking at her hands. “I would never have the future Mother stole from me,”
Callie faltered, staring at her sister who had visibly come down a few degrees as she spoke of the tragedy she’d endured years ago, from the person who had started all of the pain within this castle.
“It was my last option I had to find them,” she shook, peering back at Callie through her hair.
Callie’s heart clenched. “What happened to them wasn’t my fault, Patricia. No one could have predicted Mother would do that,”
Patricia’s head shook, a gloss moving over her peeled eyes. “I had my life ripped from my arms and you took the last of what I had left of my dreams,” she hissed between her teeth, facing Callie.
“So what will killing me fix? You think killing me will bring them back?” Callie shouted, getting ready to jump onto her bed.
“No, Calista. I told you my dream would never come true, and I’ve accepted that,” she spoke calmly, and in the dark, Callie couldn’t see the stray tear that had slipped down her cheek, but she did hear the scraping of a blade across the ground. “I’ve come to put to rest the nights I lay awake thinking of you, and how as long as you’re walking this Earth, I won’t be able to rest,”
Callie’s brows furrowed, watching Patricia’s form melt back into the shadows.
“An eye for an eye, little sister.”
Callie felt the breeze from the sword that swung close to her stomach, narrowly missing her to only cut a slice in her dress, coming to slam into the bedpost and shaking the entirety of it.
In a few stumbling steps, Callie had crawled onto the bed and threw herself against the wall, her hand closing around the handle of her sword that was displayed there. With a crack of the hooks holding it up ripping from the walls, she swung in the same direction Patricia’s sword had come from, but her sword only whistled through the air.
With whimpers and unsteady legs, Callie stumbled off the edge of her bed, looking around frantically in the dark room and adjusting her grip around the sword.
The distinct inhale of a sharp breath had her spin, her sword following her outstretched arm as she again swung, but this time the blades struck and rang.
Patricia had always been a sloppy fighter when they had been taught, and even though she’d easily taken down Knights and castle-goers, she still couldn’t bring her sword to strike against Callie’s body with every wild attack.
Although the Queen had barely blocked the repeated stabs and swings, she was still being backed up, her arms shrinking closer to her chest.
Clang, clang, ring- the polished swords crashed together as the sisters swung and struck in the darkness, the blades sparking and momentarily lighting each other up.
Their swords met and stuck, their crossguards rattling together as they strained to push one another.
Callie could feel Trish’s breath when she laughed, extending her arms as she stepped back to keep as far away from her as possible.
“Is all this worth it-“ Patricia grunted. “When your fate is already sealed?”
Callie ground her teeth together, her grip creaking across the leather grip. “You don’t scare me anymore,”
With a hard shove, Callie had finally gained ground, listening to Patricia stumble back on her feet and the sword crash up against something she bumped into, but this fucking darkness around them- if she could even just get a match going she would actually stand a chance at cutting her down.
Callie’s toes bumped into the thick rug on the ground, glancing down a moment and then over her shoulder. The faintest outline of the door was right behind her!
She kept her sword pointed as she took her first step back, sweat keeping her hair clinging to her face and neck and her body flighty, ready to sprint at a moment's notice, but that moment would only come when she knew she could take it. Now, in the silent room, she couldn’t see what shadow Patricia had decided to melt into.
Callie froze, realizing that even if she’d been inching her way to the door, she was now dead center in the middle of the room with all her sides exposed.
She tried not to cry again- fuck, just as her silver lining had come, it was gone.
Every exposed part of her screamed to be protected and turn to make sure she wasn’t running up, but she fought to appear calm, and even her breath.
In through the nose loudly, out through the mouth noisily.
This is not your final night. This won’t be how you fall!
But the quiet only dragged on, growing louder, heavier.
The seconds ticking by felt eternal. She almost wanted her to attack already so this moment of anticipation could pass, but as she waited, her hands only shook more.
The loud creaking of the door behind her echoed through the room, and with a defeating scream she spun and stabbed, feeling her sword meet fleshy resistance in the figure that had come up behind her.
She blinked, looking up.
Patricia wasn‘t so… tall?
Callie yanked her sword back and could hear the blade pull noisily from flesh, the figure grunting loudly.
She blinked again, the sword dropping and clanging loudly against the stone floor.
She knew that voice.
Her hands withdrew to her chest when they fell before her, the body massive and at her feet like a slain animal.
But something was off. It screamed in her heart and filled her body. Patricia would’ve still been fighting, spitting profanities at her. Who… who was this?
“Hello?” Callie choked, her eyes brimming with tears when there was no answer.
With her eyes peeled, she got down to her knees, reaching, feeling until she found warm skin, and the thick leg of-
Callie gasped, following the leg up, her breathing coming in loud pants. She patted furiously as she crawled up, her fingers feeling the straps around his hips for his sword and dagger, and finally his hand at his side that was warm and wet, and didn’t squeeze hers back when she gripped it.
“No, no no no no!” She cried, wailing when she felt up his stomach and could feel the warm blood spilling.
“NO NO NO!” She screamed, at last feeling up to Nik’s face and turning his head. “NO!”
He didn’t move, or speak, even as she touched all over his face and grabbed his shoulders to shake. “NIK! NIK!” She screamed and struggled to pull his massive body up, trying to hold him against her chest, but he was so heavy.
“Oh, Callie,”
She silenced, her face wet with tears and blood she couldn’t see, looking up to see Patricia’s silhouette in the doorway.
“With your own sword?”
She slipped away, the tip of her sword dragging softly across the ground fading.
Callie squeezed him, her hand pressing into the wound her sword had inflicted and rocking him, looking down to see the faint outline of his unresponsive face. She tried- she tried so hard to just say his name, to grab his face and talk to him, but she couldn’t. She could not see him or feel if he was even alive, not with how violently her body shook.
She sobbed, shaking his limp form in her arms.
“Wake up!” She begged, hitting his chest. “Wake up!” But still, he did not wake.
Not like this- not like this- not like this-
“JAKOB!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, uncaring if Trish even returned to cut her down over the lover she’d just brought down herself.
⦽
