“Honor?” Now I laugh. “All your life, you have given orders. It’s time you tried on a different pair of shoes, a soldier whom you so carelessly place into battle.”
He kicks his foot out, rolling his ankle; his eyes reveal the truth as they gaze at his burnt roses; his smile isn’t genuine. “I rather like my shoes and prefer to die in them.”
Talking is granting him more time in this world. It’s done. “And so you shall.”
Flames seep out from my feet, racing over the brown, crispy grass, closer and closer to him.
Wait, I’m giving him the death he wants. It’s an order that I’m obeying.
I raise my sword. Molten shades of citrine encompass Galen, reflecting off the sharp edge of my blade. His smile is ice that slips out of a cup. Left alone to melt and die slowly.
Galen’s pride jolts. The admittance he’s not getting the last order granted slips free like a balloon, before he recovers and realizes it’s attached to a string. There is no escape.
I glide like wind, sailing forward, the tip of my blade pressing into his leather cuirass. He didn’t wear his metal breastplates; riding southeast meant no foes would confront him. His eyes drift down, looking at the sword. I press my torso into the hilt, and a slight pinching snap signals that the leather cuirass has been sliced.
I watch for his attack, but he’s got no magic, and his sword remains sheathed.
“You’re a coward,” I spit in his face. Crackling snaps of my flames egg me on.
“Yet I stand still, accepting death.” His eyes trace up my sword until our eyes join. His smile will torment me.
I failed. Sure, I’m going to kill him, but his words were an enemy I can not slay. His lack of reaction to death was a foe I did not anticipate.
My toes curl as I lean all my force into my right foot. My blade is sharp; it cuts flesh like butter, but once you’re deeper,you need more force. Muscles, tendons, and ribs. It’s all much harder. Slower.
Galen growls as my sword becomes a part of him. His body sways, not from pain but from determination to not give me an ounce of glory.
He leans into my blade, attempting to drive it deeper. I steer him back, refusing to allow him to kill himself. A grunt has my blade chipping his ribs, slicing through his lungs, and finally his heart.
Blood weeps from the wound, so much that it turns into a pool reflecting my fire, and his crumbling vines.
Your mission was to kill him; your goal was to make him suffer. You thought you lost, but in the end, you achieved what you needed to.The noble soldier in me tries to find reason.
Shut up!
I wanted his pain to be transformed into badges of honor that I could decorate myself with, so Selene could see.
His knees shake as mine do, but for a different emotion. His hands grab my wrist. Using my sword, I steer him down like a fork guiding meat. Controlled, deliberate, ready to be cut up, then devoured.He’s skewered against the smoldering floor, surrounded by his burning petals.
I drive that blade deeper and deeper, piercing the earth.Cursing it for birthing such a man.
I cover my body in flames, giving him a horror-filled image, before I allow the fire to consume him. The sound of a gargled laugh bubbles from his lips.
“I see it… in your… eyes. Failure. I… won…” His lips curl up, and his head tilts to the side.
All his roses fill his view. I lash out, burning them. I dig my fingers into his jaw, burning his flesh, forcing his eyes back on me. His life is fading, but his heart still beats, and each thump has more blood oozing from the wound.
“You think you’ve won,” I hiss. I unbuckle my cuirass, toss it into the flames, and rip open the collar of my undershirt. Through blurry vision, he spots my mate’s mark. “I won, Galen. I have what you never did. Selene is my mate. Mine.”
He tries to speak, urging death one moment of hesitation so that he can taint my victory again. I shove my fingers into his mouth, discharging the heat of my fire. A tortured wail rumbles through his body. There, his eyes shift into a beggar’s, calling for death to take him.
“Never again will you speak.” I stand and spit embers onto him. I step back. “Never again will I allow a man like you to rule these lands.”
I glance at the fire as it jumps and picks him apart like a bird of prey.
“Have your way with him,” I tell my flames. They sizzle with glee as they cover his body, boiling and blistering his skin. I watch as he takes two more breaths, and then his chest rises no more.
Fire and salt coat my tongue. Bitterness. His death was too simple.
