Chapter 1: Death Marks The Beginning (1)
Life wasn't as mysterious as everyone thought. It wasn't a beautiful phenomenon full of surprises and wonder.
It was a bloody sadist, gambling with a miserable thing such as fate.
He clenched his pale fist, sharp claws digging holes inside his palms, yet no blood came from it.
The ones who should've died long ago seemed to roam this world forever in amusement, but those meant to live forever were drowning in the misery of it all.
He clenched his jaw tightly. Rain showers bursted from the clouds so often on this hideous land, yet on his way here, the sky was clear - his cheeks wet. Candles were placed around the room to create sources of light.
"Your father will be upset."
The man had cleanly parted, jet black hair. His eyes were dark brown, yet with a glowing red tint. In his hand he held a handkerchief, neatly folded for the other young man to take.
Silas Farlow. The son of a marquis and both his closest confidant and companion.
"He didn't even see her off today."
Each word left his mouth bitterly pressed upon his lips.
Silas was startled. The man he talked to wasn't exactly known for showing his emotions. He was the son of Mercia's king. His highness, crown-prince Cyneric. He was raised for his future position as the powerful and perfect leader of his kindred, invulnerable, elegant and on a completely different level, even among nobles.
"I daren't utter a word about his majesty. But his highness seems so shocked, that I'd like to offer my family's summer residence - it's not far from here."
Too many ears were listening. Too many eyes were watching him. Watching the crown-prince shed tears onto the casket lying before the weeping statue. Roses and candles had been placed around, the only remnants of life inside this crypt.
"Prepare for our leave."
Silas bowed his head, then left in silence.
Meanwhile Cyneric's eyes stuck to the casket. More and more people left after paying their respects. Some wept, other's mumbled audibly about how she died so tragically, yet the prince himself knew that there was not a single bit of honesty in it. Even by the relatives.
His own tears had been something that was coming to his doom later on, but he couldn't dare say a single thing in this situation.
Because the person who passed had chosen to leave this world on her own accord. Or at least that's what they saw. That she died because she was weak or crazy. Some tragic illness that had befallen her mind, as if it was something shameful.
"Mother…", he uttered and stepped closer before the casket. The doors were shut close once he was alone inside.
The way they laughed and gossiped about the lousy queen, who vanished from public years ago. Who now took her own life, leaving husband and child behind. How irresponsible she would be, leaving behind her grieving family.
Yet the same people were exhilarated by the fact that the seat next to the king was now empty.
"I must be a terrible child, to still wish you were here."
A bitter smile crossed his face. Not even he was enough to keep her alive. Because it wasn't a lack of love for him that had her meet this fate. He knew that much. It was the man who had her shackled.
"You must never become like your father", were the words she spoke to him back them. "You will become strong on your own."
Cyneric leaned against the casket, his pale, slender fingers gripping the golden handle at the side, the other arm laid atop on it. He tilted his head against the corner of the lid. It didn't seem that only dying people had their life flash before them. All of his memories he had with her came to his mind so clearly.
It was only today he felt the reality settle in. The fact that when the servants were crying out, when he came across her dead body lying on the floor, a silver knife stuck in her chest, she had left this world. And she wouldn't come back.
Tears came to his eyes again and he let out a heartfelt sob. Underneath his black cape, hanging from his right shoulder, a pair of black wings bolted out, spreading out and curling around his body, hiding his face, while the other laid across the casket lid like a blanket lending comforting warmth.
"I'll miss you, mother."