“You’re afraid,” the beast said, ruining his thoughts. “Come closer, Little Prince, and prove to me that you want this. That you are done waiting for the gods to save you. It’s you who holds the power now. Not them.”
Hedidwant this. He longed for all of this to be over...for it to behimthat set himself free, that brought glory to his name.
If he ever did anything brave in his life, it would be this.
He’d never killed before, but the motion was fated, the blade was hungry, as if it had long awaited its chance to help him win.
“Careful,” the monster growled. “You’re at the edge of the world, Prince.”
Kinlear blinked and realized the forest around them had changed. The trees had lessened. He was nearing the edge.
But the edge of what?
He risked a glance backwards and yelped.
Because there in the ground, a dark pit awaited him.
It was endless. Depthless. It stretched so far below...he wondered if it had any end.
When he turned back around, the monster was right before him. Mere inches from his face. Shadows licked Kinlear’s skin, cold and biting as the wind. He was lost in the monster’s reek.He could sense that its shadows were hungry to devour him again.
The Veilblade shook in his grasp, because he knew he was inches from another death.
But...something gave him pause.
The monster’s claws were so close, they should already be deep in his chest.
They should already have won this battle.
So why did they wrap themselves around his wrist – the one that held the Veilblade – instead?
“Why?” Kinlear asked. “All these years...why have you hunted me?”
He was crying now, the air so cold the teardrops began to freeze on his face. “Why must it always end like this?”
The monster bridged the gap between them until their chests were touching. Until he could feel his own heart, and the monster’s...
And they beat together, as one.
In perfect tandem.
“I do it because you must become who are you meant to be,” the monster said. “Because you must die, Kinlear Laroux...in order to truly live.” Gently, reverently, it lifted Kinlear’s wrist, until the Veilblade was pointed at its throat. “Do it. Make the kill. But only if you’re ready for what comes next.”
He was ready.
He was ready for anything other thanthis.
So, with a scream, Kinlear slid his Veilblade across the monster’s throat.
Shadows poured out, spilling onto his hands. They were cold, like fresh-fallen tears.
The monster released its grip.
It staggered and dropped to a knee as the snow filled with shadows around it.
The very same ones that now dripped from Kinlear’s Veilblade.
“Good,” the monster whispered. It was dying. He could hear it, with every heaving breath in its voice. “Now go, Little Prince. Go...and See.”
