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“I too have lost someone I very much loved. That pain…that despair that you are feeling right now…that gaping wound…it will forever leave a deep scar. But even though you might not believe me now, you will survive it. You will be able to breathe freely again one day…Try to not let the grief drown you.”
Because, the truth was, sometimes good didn’t conquer evil. Sometimes, to win a war, to overcome the world—you’d have to be the biggest evil of them all.
I didn’t have the option to fail. I never had the chance to give up, to quit. Even broken down and defeated, I would stand. I wouldn’t falter.
I’d lost my freedom too many times to let this continue. To let it dictate my consciousness.
I was Finnleah, Daughter of the Dead. I was a survivor. I was a warrior. I had endured this far, and I would endure more. Now and forever. I would not yield.
She must have poisoned me. There could be no other explanation for why my heart hadn’t stopped racing ever since her lips touched mine. Why I couldn’t sleep the whole night. Why I deliriously craved to feel her body against mine.
I wondered if maybe in a different life, under different circumstances, where he wasn’t the Destroyer General, and I…well, I wasn’t me, that maybe I wouldn’t mind staring at those eyes for all eternity.
I was so utterly exhausted. And for once, defeated.
The universe quieted, and for a moment, I could care less about successes or failures, goals and accomplishments; because right here, right now, she was next to me, and in that second it had dawned on me that this was what I had always truly wanted. This was what actually mattered.
That was the sad part about timing—it was never on our side.
My heart went still for a moment, and the world quieted around me. Here, amidst the lifeless desert, the midnight sky and the silver moon, amidst the infinite red dunes now laid a clear fact. One that I could no longer deny, that I no longer wanted to deny. A simple truth. I was in love with Finnleah. Deeply, wholeheartedly, entirely.
A part of me had accepted the fact that, perhaps, I was so broken that I could no longer experience that feeling. That I was damaged beyond repair, left only with the emptiness within me for the remainder of my days. Years of accepting a joyless life, surviving on the bleak moments of solemn quietness and solace on good days.
“To the overwhelming feelings,” he said, as he motioned with his other hand, sending large sparks far into the skies, mimicking shooting stars. “And to the ability to feel them,” I quietly added, sending my copper sparks to join his.
It was always going to be her.
You need to have won the war before you even start the fighting.
I was the Lord of Death, for fucks’ sake; a merciless Destroyer General, yet I was so hopelessly in love.
I would let her believe in magic and miracles and a world full of love and possibilities.
Men with nothing to lose were dangerous.
She was strength. She was power. She was Justice and Fate herself. I was the cursed bastard heir to the throne, but here, amidst the dead prisoners, amidst the ever-green trees and the moss-covered rocks, stood the true Destroyer Empress, Fearless Ruler of Esnox, my never yielding Queen, a marvelous Goddess: Finnleah, Daughter of the Dead.
I used to think that grief was the strongest emotion. But now? Guilt. Guilt for surviving and guilt for wanting to die. Guilt for having powers and guilt for not using them before. Guilt for feeling happy and guilt for not, guilt for falling in love, and guilt for leaving the past behind.
I was a warrior. I was a survivor. And sometimes that meant surviving my own feelings that were attempting to kill me.
“I thought love was all prevailing...” my broken voice uttered through the disheveled darkness of the room. Orest’s eyes darted to the quickly disappearing figure of Zora. “Then you never truly loved.”
Tomorrow, I’ll be strong. Tomorrow, I’ll stand with my chin up. Tomorrow, I’ll wake up and take on this new reality, and I’ll train, and I'll learn, and I’ll figure things out. But today? Today, I’ll cry in silence. And I’ll cry alone.
“I am so sorry,” she whispered, her eyes turning watery. “I am so sorry, Finn, that the world has failed you. That we have failed you. We should’ve never allowed this to happen. We have failed those who needed us the most. And I am so, so sorry.”
“As long as I live, you’ll always have me. You won’t be alone,”
“Sometimes we hold on to our hurt for so long, that it becomes somewhat of a comfort to us.
“Because I fucking love you, Finnleah! Because my whole soul trembles in your presence, my heart bleeds when you are away, and air burns like acid when you are not close. Because there isn’t a price I wouldn’t pay for you. I’d start a million more wars for you. I’d burn this whole fucking world down if it meant you’d be near.”
What do you dream of, Finnleah?
This was perfect. This was divine. This was joy.
