I take a small step forward, tilting my head. We are resurrecting the god, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten the same vision twice, but then I suppose this one is slightly different since it began after the giant was resurrected. Not that there is truly any order or rhythm to my visions.
Not in when I get them, or what I see, or how I view them.
I’m unsure why anything should surprise me anymore, but I at least take a small consolation in knowing that we are still on course to make this a reality.
I will be freed from my curse soon and then… and then what?
Do I remain Marcello’s wife? He will not be welcomed in my village; we are wary enough of outsiders, let alone one from Imperialis. They will view him as he is: an enemy. Besides, what of his family? Would he really want to give up on them and live here with me for the rest of his life, in a war-torn, frozen, deadly land?
No, I do not see a future where we remain together. We are just too different, from two different worlds. One of us would have to sacrifice everything to be with the other. Which I’m certain won’t happen.
It will just be best for us to return to our lives and pretend that this never happened. I will go back to my empty cabin and pick up my life, become a warrior and fight for my tribe until I die in battle.
And the next time I see Marcello will likely be on the battlefield as his people conquer mine.
I shake that thought out of my mind as I turn my attention to the Marcello in my vision. He strikes a handsome figure in the storm. I doubt he will go along with separation, he seems to think that, somehow, we can make our differences work if only we try hard enough. He puts stock in our wedding vows, and for some reason he sees something in me that he finds exceptional.
I admire his hopeful optimism, I truly do. I just can’t seem to share in it.
I should never have allowed that kiss, it will only make it that much harder when we inevitably must say goodbye.
Shouts jolt me from my worrying, and I drop into a crouch, suddenly alert. I watch as Marcello and I begin to react. I look up to see that the giant god is lumbering toward them.
I watch as the dragons swoop in. The Laduga in my vision manages to hop onto the back of Drekki, but then the giant brings its foot down. Drekki lets out a shriek, it appears that his tail is trapped under the giant’s foot, nearly ripping it off as he tries to take flight.
My vision self goes flying forward with the force, landing hard in the snow.
Marcello had managed to climb onto Worm’s back, but he scrambles off as I hit the ground, racing instead to my side.
“Laduga!” he shouts.
Through the clouds I see an arm reach down. I shout a warning that I know no one will hear as Marcello tries to jump out of the way. Massive fingers craved from stone wrap around his legs, lifting him into the air. A second later the giant flings him back down. Worm takes flight, trying to catch him, but the force of the throw is too fast.
Marcello hits the ground.
I start screaming, faintly I realize that the other Laduga is also screaming. We both take off running toward where he landed, arriving at his side at the same time.
Marcello is lying sprawled out, his body is twisted in a strange and unnatural angle and there is a crack in the stone below him. Blood pools out around the base of his neck, and a single rivulet appears to run from his nose.
I drop to my knees as the Laduga from the vision lifts him off the ground. She’s shaking him, screaming his name, but it’s no use. Worm crawls forward, huffing short heartbroken sounds from the back of his throat.
Dead.
Marcello is dead.
We raised a god and removed his immortality and now he is dead.
I don’t realize that I’m screaming until my voice catches in the wind. Tears start running down my cheeks as sobs mingle with my screams until suddenly, I’m being shaken. I’m jarred awake and out of my vision. I find myself sitting next to a campfire far from the resurrected god, the snowstorm, and Marcello’s broken body.
My breathing is ragged as I look around, trying to get my bearings. I spot Marcello hovering above me, his arms on my shoulders, and a concerned look is etched across his features. “Wake up!” he shouts. “It was just a dream.”
No, it wasn’t.
It was far too real. No, worse than that, it will be real.
I reach up, gently resting my fingers across his cheek. I trace his features as if trying to memorize them so that they will forever be imprinted to my fingerprints. I pause, my hand resting on the raised section of his upper lip where the blood had smeared.
“You’re all right,” I breathe. “You’re okay.”
