Dancing In The Void

It was unusually quiet in the marketplace of Ur-Iktamun this afternoon.

The merchants usually shouted, argued and negotiated very loudly between themselves and their customers attempting to sell their goods with almost aggressive fervor. But today there was barely a whisper as dust and sand drifted through the empty pathways of the bazaar. There couldn’t be more than a hundred people here today, aside from the vendors. On other days, the numbers would easily reach the upper thousands.

Calm days like these were rare, and it seemed everyone was enjoying the quietude. Elderly ladies walked out and about, searching for the perfect ingredients for tonight’s fresh stew. Young children dashed between the paths, playing games with each other while searching for bread, meat, fresh fruit and the dozen other things their mothers sent them to get. Things that they’d long forgotten about. A few men strolled about as well, searching for fine pieces of jewelry to woo a woman or to reinforce the affection towards their most beloved partner. All simple folk, content and happy, going about undisturbed by the more complex aspects of daily life.

All except one, a tall lean woman, draped in a ravishing blue velvet dress. Coiling around her neck and head, a beautiful gold and red silk scarf with purple lines running across it. If she intended not to stand out, she had sorely failed in that task, as every step she took was met by a myriad of turned heads and gasps. The scarf made it so only her stunning pale blue eyes could be seen. As she walked, her glorious hair danced in the gentle wind like a sand wraith. It fell all the way down to her hips, colored a gorgeous azure with crimson strands flowing through it, like blood dripping into a still lake. Perhaps people would recognize her, but she was not worried. A warm smile was hidden under her scarf, a smile that only she knew about.

Days like these were rare indeed. A war had sparked between some neighboring nations, and the fear that it would soon reach the borders of their magnificent kingdom was all too real. She saw it in the eyes of every passerby. A dreadful worry that death and decay would reach their doorstep, and that the life they’d fought and worked so far for would once again be naught but ruin.

No. Not today. Today is a day for joy and relaxation. I will not fall to fear once more. She thought to herself, taking a deep breath and trying to reinvigorate herself. The smell of spices and sweets filled her heart with joy. She took a few more steps, playing a little game. Let’s see, I smell the fresh fish in the distance… She smiled, letting the scents guide her. Salted sweets closer on the right by Ashu’s shop… Children gorging themselves on the oranges they stole, not knowing Little Enlil lets them get away with it every time… But where are they…? Where are my favorite…

“Apples!” A merchant shouted further down the path, as if he read her mind. “Golden apples, come get the best apples in all the market! Red, green, yellow, hells, I’ve found a blue one two moons ago and I was told the one who ate it loved it so much he croaked dead on the street the next day! Haha!” The man was short and plump, walking around with a small limp. His shouting was quite noticeable, as he seemingly tried breaking the pressing silence and apathy of the other vendors and customers around him. At the same time, he arranged a small wooden sign painted black. On it was written the phrase: “Apples - Two coppers a Piece, Five for one silver.” A reasonable deal, for his reasonably-fancy shop.

She smiled, and her steps quickened as she walked towards the shop. The desire to buy a whole bushel was hard to fight, but before she had the chance to, someone intervened. A man who was leaning on the wall of the building in front stepped close to the shop, drawing both her and the vendor’s attention. She watched out of the corner of her eyes, pretending to inspect some items at the vendor next to them.

“Chakan my friend, you tell the same old lies every damn time I see you, d’you never get tired of swindling people?” The handsome young man replied with a smirk. He was wearing a worn out bronze plate across his chest, and underneath a few leather straps that could be called armor if one was feeling charitable. A large brown cloth was further underneath that, hiding the painful scars and sun-bleached muscles of his physique. Around his arms were wrapped pieces of metal nicely decorated with silver scales depicting a black serpent. This same design was found etched on the simple gloves In his hands. His boots were metallic and sleek, an unusually high-class item for such a lowly-seeming person. They stretched all the way to his knees where they connected to pieces of armor that covered his thighs. Lastly, around his waist she saw a decorative short leather sarong with an opening in front, and around his belt she counted at least five noticeable daggers and one short curved sword.

“PAH!” The merchant named Chakan responded by spitting to the side and slapping the wooden pole of his shop. “The day I’m more of a swindler than a mercenary like you is the day I close my shop and become a fisherman!” He shouted aggressively. For a moment, she thought they would start a brawl, given how intensely they stared at each other. The mercenary stepped forward.

“You? You wouldn’t be able to catch a barrel of apples that was already on your ship!” He said, and slowly their stern expressions broke down. The merchant and the mercenary both laughed heartily. Chakan scurried to his apple-filled crates and tossed a nice shiny red one to his friend. The mercenary caught it effortlessly and took a bite, nodding in approval.

“Alright I’ll admit.” He said, still chewing. “Still as damn good as always.”

The vendor’s face lit up to the comment. He pushed aside the half-door of his shop and then shuffled towards the man. The mercenary bent down a little and embraced his friend, patting him on the back.

“It's good to see you ol’ man.” He said with a happy yet slightly melancholic tone.

“Two years has it?” Chakan asked, pulling back.

“Its been a long war.”

“Why do you always fight in other people’s wars? Listening to others is gonna get you killed one day you know?” Chakan stated, going back to his shop to serve another passer-by client.

The mercenary sighed. “Even if I were to fight for the queen’s royal guard I’d still be paid less than I do on one of the usual missions. Besides, the General and I… don't get along too well.” He grinned and took another bite out of his apple.

“Really?” The woman finally asked from a few meters, her surprise and curiosity at the merc’s remark unable to be held back. “How much does a mercenary like yourself make on a two year expedition?”

“Depends…” He responded slowly, taking the time to eye this newcomer from head to toe..

“On what?”

“On whether he ends up fighting for the winning or the losing side.” The merchant chuckled a bit farther away. “That’ll be four coppers lad.” He said to the kid in front of his shop.

“He’s right, if the people I fight for die then I get no profit. And if they live, I get paid, its simple. And considering the fact that the royal guard doesn't get paid almost anything, well its easy to see why my... profession is more profitable.“ The mercenary said suavely.

“One would think that if the people that hired your services end up losing their battle and dying, that means your services are pretty pitiful no?” She retorted with a smirk hidden behind her veil.

The mercenary chuckled falsely, trying to not show the sting of her question. “Lady, I’m the Sun-Stained Cobra, I’ve been hired for over a thousand campaigns. And let me tell you…” He stepped closer, letting his taller stature and intimidating physique do their work as he locked eyes with her. “...I’ve yet to not get paid.”

“Curious for someone of your looks to be so aged, after all, how else could you have participated in so many battles?”

“Heh. What can I say, the Great Dragon of the Sun has blessed me with the impeccable ability to turn men into ghosts. Battles I participate in don’t tend to last long, leaving more time for other battles. But alas, tell me… why would a fine lady such as yourself be interested in such morbid things? Wouldn’t you rather we talk about more pleasant topics? Like this wonderful day and how I could invite you to-”

“PAH-HEAH!” Chakan laughed and coughed loudly, interrupting the mercenary’s attempt. “You just got back from war and you’re already trying to fool a woman, you heartless filth. Gal, don't fall for this fox’s tricks.” He nodded towards her and shot his friend an evil look.

“That’s why I love this man.” He said, his tone sighing with false disappointment. “Always saves women from the terrible fate of having their heart broken by me...” He said. At that moment, rays of light shone out from the building behind them, allowing the full radiance of the sun to shine down upon the woman before him. She was truly resplendent in her beauty, and her pallid blue eyes hypnotized him on the spot. All the clever little tricks of language and persuasion that he had memorized and now readied melted from his mind. The mercenary seemed to find it difficult to speak another word.

“I’ll be damned. I lived to an age where I could see the great Cobra mute like a rock before someone.” Chakan laughed as he spritzed some water on his apples with his hand.

“Our conversation carried us away, so I never got the chance to ask, what is your name Lady?” He asked, coming back to his senses.

“Common courtesy is for the men to introduce themselves first, is it not? She said, pulling down her scarf and revealing the astounding beauty of her full face. Her lips were bright red and her cheeks were dashed with a similar shade as well.

“Uh… correct. I am Mephistopheles. They call me by many titles, Demon of the Sands, Sun-Stained Cobra, Butcher, but most often they call me mercenary as you overheard my friend here.”

“Wow.” The woman said with a smug smile, her voice straddling the line between being impressed and mocking. “They only call me by one title, I suppose that’s a lot less impressive.”

“I’m sure its lovely. What is it?” Mephisto asked, taking the bait.

“Queen.”

“BY THE GODS!” Chakan shouted, moving forward and nearly tripping over his stand in amazement. “YOUR MAJESTY, Y-YOUR GRACE, YOUR SUBLIME DIVINITY… I… W-WHY ARE YOU HERE OF ALL PLACES? ALONE NO LESS.”

“Shhh!” She said flustered and cheeks ablush. “Keep it down! I wanted to see this market on my own for once, don't ruin it for me.”

“Uhh. Am I missing something here? Should I know who she is?” Mephisto asked, looking around him slightly perplexed.

“She’s the queen you damned fool, are you deaf? Didn’t you hear? Your excellence, it is not safe around these parts, The general will no doubt be looking for you like the rabid hound he is-”

“I am Camael Fladium. Pleased to make your acquaintance, to you both.” She said, interrupting Chakan’s wild speech. She reached down at his stand and grabbed an apple. She gave it a smudge against her cloth and took a bite once satisfied. She placed a gold coin on the counter. “For the apple.” She said, and with a smile before placing another. “And for the warning against this charming fellow.” She said with a laugh and a nod towards Mephisto.

“Queen? Queen Camael? The Queen Camael?” Mephisto said, realization finally washing over him. He whistled and bit his lip as if he just got caught stealing. “Damn, I should have not bothered to ask, now I know there’s not even the slightest chance of getting lucky tonight.” He scoffed, disappointed.

“Well, come on now. Don’t be discouraged.” Camael smiled. “You were about to offer something right? Surely you wouldn’t mind showing me around the marketplace. I don't get the chance to visit this place very often.”

“Well I did grow up on these streets… If Her Majesty demands it I’d rather obey her whims then wake up in a dungeon cell for disobeying.” He grinned.

“Oh that’s still very much an option.” She chuckled.

Mephisto extended his left hand towards her. A moment passed, then another. Their eyes met once more, and with graceful movements and a smile, she accepted it. A gust of wind suddenly blew around them, with either of them knowing little that fate had chosen them at that exact moment. The ominous threads of gods and demons, of purity and sin, of order and chaos and all the other great and terrible lights and shadows underneath the cosmos itself, all trembled as their nascency was at hand. Fate itself weaved those threads, and marked that singular instant in time, the singular grain of sand in the desert, as the moment of her grandest tapestry. Camael let her dress and hair flutter in the wind, uncaring, unaware, at peace. The two began walking across the now-crowded road of the market, basking in each other’s company.

Mephisto had forgotten how it felt like to be at peace, yet as he walked the streets of the bazaar that was the sentiment that seemed to overwhelm him. A troubled soul he was, weighed down by many sins that he was never able to truly forget. Yet Camael’s presence did just that, it offered him serenity. A strange kind of serenity as she excitedly bounced from stall to stall, vendor to vendor. Her eyes sparkled with wonder and joy at the countless different trinkets and baubles, foods and drinks and the myriads of other exotic items and artifacts to be found. Mephisto struggled keeping up with her.

“Easy girl… I mean, your grace…” Mephisto laughed as he jogged after her. “This old fool can’t keep up with your youthful vigor.”

Camael turned with a smirk. “Oh boo, am I supposed to believe you’re tired already? What, there’s no running in war? I expected someone like you to have more stamina than that.”

“True, but I am supposed to be relaxing now, not exercising!” He said, pretending to be angry for emphasis. “Besides, I had an awful lot to drink with the other soldiers last night. I’m still slightly hungover.”

“Here, this’ll perk you up.” Camael said, rushing to a nearby vendor. Within seconds she returned with two clay lotus cups, each filled with a peculiar liquid. Mephisto smelled it, sweet, fruity, it reminded him of…

“Melon juice?” He asked, immediately taking a sip. A chill passed through him. “Wow, its so cold too, perfect for such a hot day. Why thank you Cam.”

“Cam…” She echoed as she sipped her drink. ”So, you were talking about the attack of Kitun hill.”

“Yes!” Mephisto said, his eyes lighting up as he recalled where he left off. “So there we were, us seven, surrounded by at least two hundred men and a dozen chariots. We were out of arrows, out of lances, and death seemed certain… But I had an idea.”

“Oooh.”

“The top of the hill held an abandoned old church, and the hill was sloped on one side. One of our boys, Prince, we called him, had a sack of black devil’s powder with him. Just crazy enough that my idea would work. It was a desperate act, but it was better than dying.”

“So you ran further on the hill?” Camael asked, enthralled by the story.

“Indeed, we fought our way up, protecting against an onslaught of arrows and charging knights. We were faster, and their army had a difficult time holding their lines on the narrow hillside.” Mephisto continued, taking a sip of his melon-juice to clear his throat. The memory of that glorious battle flooded within him, and his voice trembled as he began retelling it. “Gods, Camael, you should have seen us. Me, especially. We fought like I’d never seen us, or hell, anyone fight before. Our blades danced like wraiths, painting blood across the sandy dunes…“ He said, mimicking the motion with his hands as if he was gripping his sword. “...We cut down our foes like demons possessed, filled with rage and the mad fire of war alight within us. We fought up that hill for hours, until our shields broke under their arrows, until our armor had frayed and fallen off our bodies from all the wounds we’d endured, until our swords were so stained with the blood we had to toss them, as we could not carry their weight anymore. And yet, we climbed that hill.”

Camael did not say anything, she just stared, mesmerized at him as they walked. Realizing she was being awkward, she drank from her cup. “Then what?” She asked eagerly.

“Then, we reached the church. The old bronze statue in front was still there, just as I’d hoped. With the black powder, we annihilated the base, allowing us to bring it down.”

“You brought down an entire statue with nothing but powder?” She asked incredulously.

“Powder, sparks, and a few precious lives that bought us time, yes. Prince had to prepare the mixture, three of us had to hold up the statue, and three had to hold back the faster soldiers, lest they find our plans. I volunteered to defend, and I was joined by my brothers, David and Amon.”

“You have brothers?”

“N-no, they weren’t my brothers of blood. They were my brothers in arms. I don’t know my real family…” Mephisto sighed.

“Really?” Camael asked.

“Yes. My mother, bless her soul with soft sand wherever she might be, was not actually my mother.” Mephisto said. “She said it was one of the most horrid droughts in ten years. The sun purged crops and people alike, and yet despite that a stranger had drifted in, right up to her doorstep. Mother said she never got the chance to see him but she always talked as if she knew who it was. This stranger left me, wrapped in a small wool cloth in a basket of scales. Mother did not think twice, and took me in as her own.”

“I see… Sorry, I didn't mean to pry.”

“No offense taken, Princess.”

“So, then what happened on the hill?”

“We continued fighting. This time, it was just us three, we had to keep the foe away from the church until the mixture was prepared. Amon was first to fall, hit in the back by an arrow that seemed to fly from the sun itself. Then, David, enraged, charged like a madman into the fray. He took two dozen down with him before he fell, I swear it. His blade slashed with such fury and ferocity, clashing against their bronze armor, I swear you can still hear it sing if you visit the hill.” He said with a proud yet melancholic smile on his face.

“What a glorious fighter he seems to have been…” Camael said, but Mephisto wasn’t sure if she was truly impressed. “I’m sorry to hear of his death.”

“No, there was no glory to be had that day. That day was a massacre. In grief and rage I charged in after him, eager to die a similar death, but a chariot stopped me in my tracks.” Mephisto paused, looking up at the sky as he noticed a shiver of an ill wind creep. “And just then, my fellow men destroyed the statue. I ducked, almost falling off the hill, but I avoided the trap I’d set. We rolled the statue down the hill onto our foes, crushing them and destroying their chariots. The ruin and wreckage fell down, down, down the hill, leaving naught but a few stragglers alive.”

“Not for long I presume.” Camael smirked.

“Indeed. But our problems were yet to be over. We killed off the stragglers, and then…” Mephisto shrugged. “...How to get home? We’d been driven of course, and fighting for days. The camp was miles away. And the scorching desert lay before us, stretching like an ocean of sand.”

“No… don’t tell me you all…?”

Mephisto nodded. “We left our armors, our blades and our shields, everything we couldn’t carry. We got lucky we found some water pouches here and there on our fallen foes, but that was it. We tread across that accursed desert for five days. After the fifth day, we began falling like flies. Prince died first, the cut he’d taken had festered and rotted, and we couldn’t save him anymore. Caleb died next, we just woke up in the morning and he was simply… still.” He paused, finishing his drink, as if his thirst had been amplified by the retelling of his tale. “The next day, Isaac fell. He couldn’t walk any more, but I would be damned to leave him there. I carried him as much as I could. Every hour, I’d look up at the sun, cursing it. And yet, I realized my curses were unjust. The sun had no fault in my doomed fate, and even, some days I look back and feel like the sun was the sole thing keeping me alive. It pointed the way, its light guided me home, and somehow, its heat did not strike me as much as I believe it could have."

“That sounds… absolutely dreadful Mephisto.” Camael said, shocked by the story. Her feelings were exacerbated by the powerful gusts of wind that had picked up around them and across the bazaar. “What happened to the last two of your brothers?”

“Well, I carried Isaac as much as I could. But, when Simon fell, I couldn’t carry any more. My will broke, and so did I. Isaac somehow knew I was stronger, and he pushed me on. Told me to live… for them, all of them. He’d stay with Simon until they both perished and were swallowed by the sands.” Mephisto looked away, a dark shadow cast over his face. He wiped away a tear and continued, reinvigorating himself. “Three days I wandered that desert afterwards and by what I can only presume was a miracle of God, or an unholy act from the Devil himself, I survived. I reached the camp. That's when I’d earned all those fancy titles… demon… cobra… I must say, they mattered very little compared to the taste of water… and the names of my comrades.”

The two stopped dead in their tracks. Camael was staring very intently at Mephisto, enraptured by his thrilling tale. But the wind was truly at fault, sand and dust began kicking up with great strength, and they soon realized the trouble that was upon them. Vendors were closing their shops, and children and women were running to their homes in a terrified hurry.

“Let’s-” Camael said, but her word was swallowed as Mephisto immediately responded with a quick:

“Yep!”

The two ran down the alleys, searching for a place to hide and weather the storm. Camael’s hand was clasped on Mephisto’s, lest she risk losing him. For a moment, his fear came true. He slipped as some kids bumped into him, and Camael was gone. By now it had quickly become impossible to see, and he shouted after her.

“Camael!” He yelled, covering his mouth with a small tarp.

“In here! Get in here!” Camael shouted, guiding him to her. He found her holding the door of a small abandoned home open. Wind whipped the air and golden sand billowed all around them. His shadow against the sand was slowly making its way to her through the crowds of panicked men and women who tried desperately to find shelter.

Mephistopheles pushed through and soon enough both of them found themselves inside the home, with a blissful sigh of relief. The place had a nice quaint feeling to it, and best of all it was empty. The two of them laughed, laughed and coughed, and brushed off the sand that clung to their face and body. Camael found it a lot more difficult to clean her hair, but she just giggled and went on, curious to explore the other rooms of the house.

“Oh hey, look at this.” She scurried back a few minutes later holding a bottle of grape red wine. “You wanna pop it open and have some? I’m sure whoever owns this place won’t mind.” She continued with a large smug grin on her lips.

“What kind - ghagh - of queen are you?” Mephisto laughed with a wheezing cough. “Is that how you treat your citizens? By stealing from their home? For shame…” He responded, shaking his head in disapproval. Camael stuck her tongue out at him. “Can’t say I dislike that idea however.” He continued, and struck, grabbing the bottle from her hands like a viper.

“Hey!” She yelped.

Mephisto just responded by sticking his tongue out. Then he walked towards a fancy and ornate glass cabinet, opening the bottle. It was a very well made piece of furniture, the wood was golden brown that glistened under the candlelight of the room. He took out crystal goblets and poured wine for the two of them.

“This person seems especially well off.” He said. “Fancy wines, fancy glasses, a bazaar seller does not have furniture like this.”

Camael just smiled cutely. She shrugged her shoulders. “I guess we got lucky.”

“Right, lucky. So, Princess, why would royalty such as yourself want to visit lowly mortals, like me, in the market? To the point where she has a hidden home prepared for her. And you’re alone no less!” Mephisto took a sip from his cup, and the alcohol burned his throat making him cough. “Gods, this is stronger than the sandstorm.”

“Who said I’m alone?” Camael said as she downed the entire chalice without a second thought. She immediately giggled at the mercenary’s shocked expression with a smug look on her face. She did not answer his question, instead walking into another room and sat down on the only bed inside the home. It was big, round with blue sheets that had marvelous wave-like patterns on them. Mephisto followed soon after. He didn’t sit next to her right away, instead, leaning in the doorway.

“So?” He asked again.

“I am a jewel.” Camael began. “Born in the light of the moon.”

“A humble one too.” Mephisto immediately said with a grin.

“No… I’m a jewel, and I must stay hidden, protected at all times. At least, that’s how my generals and viziers all think I should be. But I despise it. I despise staying locked up in the palace all day. Day after day, forced to listen to their words of war and politics and stupid prophecies of old men that would piss themselves at the sight of blood or a bare woman.” Camael shook her head. “I am just there, a pretty face with no say in any matter as they think of me just a stupid young girl, queen before her rightful time.”

“What a horrid fate, living in a palace built hundreds of meters above ground, never having to worry about a sandstorm like this.” He said, with a slight chuckle.

“You mock me, but there’s something thrilling about the dangers of actually living life, you know? I live for these moments of escape, of getting to see how people not as lucky as me get to live. Exploring new places, without being dragged around as if in chains by men who are supposed to protect me… I want to be free to make my own mistakes…” Taking another glug of her wine, Camael looked up but not at him. There was a long gaze in her pale blue eyes, a deep fear that was starting to show its tendrils. “Sorry, I’m mumbling again. Bad habit of mine.”

“No, it's alright. Today has been an especially pleasant day, and you’re the sole reason for that.” Mephisto said with a coy smile. He stared at her, and once again felt his heart throb. He looked at her mesmerized by her radiating beauty. The light of the candles made her stand out all the more in the looming darkness, and her purple and red hair framed this painted portrait of divinity. He walked up, sitting beside her and continued. “And, I know exactly what you mean! That desire for freedom, that’s what pushed me on my first expedition, and every one that came after. I left for war, and the thought killing and fighting was a dreadful, disgusting feeling that never went away… But, something about being able to travel and visit every corner of this world…”

“I can only imagine how amazing that must be.”

“The sights you see when you are free… the wonders of this world right before your eyes… nothing compares to that. By the way, for a girl like you who stays locked up all the time, you sure can bear a drink.” He laughed.

Camael smiled coyly. “Well, what else can I do every long day in that tomb of painted walls?”

“You’re a drunk!” Mephisto laughed.

“Shut up!” Camael ordered, letting a spark of her queenly superiority fly. “So tell me more stories about the places you’ve been to.”

“Oh, but then there was the time I went to the frozen lakes…” Mephistopheles talked for a while, describing exotic faraway lands and magnificent tales he came to learn over time. Camael was enchanted by the way his rough hoarse voice detailed every stick and stone he stepped over, every meal he had and every man he shared stories with over a mug of beer next to a roaring fire. She noticed his ravishing blue eyes, like hers, and how they seemed to glimmer with memories of times long past.

“What’s the greatest thing you’ve ever seen?” She asked as he finished another tale, continuously eager and curious for a life she could never have.

Mephisto whistled. “Well, I once visited the river kingdoms. About seven years ago, I was on an expedition to Nexeturo where our company was hired by Pharaoh Kashrik. There was a war with the Southern Nomads, a war that was quickly won thanks to yours truly. As a gift from the Pharaoh, we were able to live in the great capital for a year. I was able to visit all five great pyramids over that year… God, Camael, I will never forget the sight of the golden steps glinting in the sunlight, stretching for what seemed like miles.” Mephisto paused, then turned, slightly awkwardly to Camael and following a small smile said: “Of course, that was the greatest thing I’ve ever seen… until I saw you… just mere moments ago…”

“Mephisto…”

“Yes Camael?” He asked, as if he just realized what he said.

But his fears were not justified, as instead of pushing him away, Camael pushed him on his back and climbed on top of him. Her face came closer to his, her scarlet lips breathing against his, and her sapphire eyes staring into his.

“I… live a life of fear. Afraid that this would be the last day I get to spend on this beautiful world. Today… today was the first time I felt something else. I am trapped forever by fate and the games of gods, but I care not for all of that…” Camael smiled. “I want to go with you, take me away from this stony hell. Take me on one of your stories… Teach me how to be a soldier like you.” Her fingers intertwined with his. Mephisto just stared at her, his breath heavy and his heart racing. “You want to know why I went to the market today? I-I… wanted kill myself. But then I ran into you and s-something just pulled me towards you. And even if this is to be the biggest mistake of my life, well at least I got the chance to chose for myself.”

And her crimson lips touched his, as the sun faded over the edge of the world and blackness swallowed the earth.