A sharp gasp burst from my lips, and before I knew it, I was looking up at the ceiling of what seemed to be the throne room. My hand immediately shot to my chest, where Mortivus had punctured. Nothing, nothing was there, not even a gaping wound. Strange.

  I noticed that my surroundings were silent, except for the wind. Where? Panicked, I sat up and looked around, but couldn't find the two demons. Did they leave…? I felt a sense of relief until I saw the two corpses.

  Priscilla,

  Sarella.

  Their bodies lay stagnant on the cold floor.

  I ran to them, but the horrid smell hit my nose the closer I got.

  Priscilla, my beautiful wife.

  A shadow fell over my eyes, memories came flooding to me.

  Her delicate fingers would brush through my hair gently as I lay soundly on her lap. No woman has treated me better than her. Her soft gaze encapsulates me in a moment of serenity every time I meet her amethyst eyes.

  Just a few meters beside her lies Sarella, my precious daughter.

  She had just started her life. Her little, adorable hands would always cup my cheeks whenever I looked sad, consoling me as best as she could every time.

  The only thing that helps me in this still moment is the wind brushing against my hand, consoling my silent suffering.

  Clenching my fist with rage, my teary eyes narrowed as I remembered the misery that dawned on them.

  I was useless.

  Not a finger can be laid on them, the demons.

  I was weak.

  A king who couldn't protect his people, let alone his family. I wish I were stronger, but even the strongest were defeated by them.

  How pitiful of a king, no, a man… am I?

  It was no use for me to stand around the corpses anymore. Recalling a past that does not benefit me but only curses me into a timeless demise.

  The only thing I could do for them is a proper burial.

  “The garden seems great…” Looking out at the castle garden. The place Priscilla and Sarella would spend most of their time at, “They'll like that.“

  I tore one of the white window curtains and gently wrapped Priscilla's cold body. Her icy body chilled my warm hands as I carried her through the halls. I can see her blood seeping through the curtain as I arrive at the garden she once loved to spend her time in.

  My arms were sore, but it didn't matter to me because the guilt was heavier.

  After carefully laying her down on the grass, her lifeless silhouette stared at me as I stared at it. My shoulders trembled a bit, but I shook them off.

  “I'll get our daughter, my love. Just wait for me here.“ I must sound mad, but it helped to stay sane.

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  I returned to the throne room, with the setting sun casting it with long golden shadows. I stood over Sarella's small body, forcing my mind to steady. One by one, I gathered what remained of her… small, broken limbs and brought her to lie beside her mother.

  The past played in my mind like a curse. Digging every piece of dirt felt like an eternity. My trembling hands placed them down into the earth. It's heavy… not their bodies, but the guilt weighing down on my shoulders.

  “It wasn't fair. Why them?“

  The sadness of burying their loved ones is immeasurable— and now, I carry the guilt of knowing that. Every time I lifted the shovel, my heart ached, forcing my body to move, even as tears covered my eyes. Every minute, every second, stretches into eternity.

  Birds flew overhead, chirping freely in the sky. I stood silently in front of their graves, breath heavy.

  The Baby's Breath.

  A white small star-shaped, finely branched flower, which symbolises the purity of love.

  It was my wife's and daughter's favourite flower. The delicateness of it resembles them.

  Placing each on their graves.

  I feel a strange relief, having buried them.

  But how do I live without them?

  “I'll kill myself.“

  I'm determined to just end it all, nothing's here anymore in this forsaken place.

  Without any thought, I unsheathe my sword… and it hurt. It hurts so bad.

  I plunged it into my gut. Pushing it further and further, twisting it, and I felt it burst through my back. My nerves are carrying the pain across my whole body.

  I should die now.

  My body collapsed onto the floor, bleeding.

  What?

  The pain was growing, but never-ending. Ears are ringing, and I can't focus my vision on anything.

  No darkness, no death.

  I threw the sword away, slicing more as it goes, and the gaping wound is slowly covering up right before my eyes.

  Gone like it didn't exist.

  “What the hell…”

  I staggered to a nearby window, broke it, grabbed a shard of glass, and stabbed my throat. The pain was extraordinary, yet no release. Choking, trembling, and gasping.

  Again… the wound healed.

  Am I in purgatory?

  Why am I alive?

  Questions clogged my sanity.

  I was there, cold and slumped to my knees, hopeless that I couldn't kill myself.

  'I'll give you a gift. A parting gift.'

  My eyes widened at the moment of realisation. Immortality? That was the only thing that I could think of. Was this what Mortivus meant?

  “How…”

  I remembered tales of the olden days about it, of a man who sought immortality to achieve greater strength, but in the end, he finally succumbed to madness. Somehow, it reminded me of a double-edged sword.

  Neither blessing nor curse.

  Endless suffering.

  A hundred years, a thousand, no, a million?

  My head is splitting just by thinking about it.

  My body was trembling at the thought of being unable to die.

  “DAMN YOU, MORTIVUS!“

  I struck the floor again and again, breaking my hand,

  “I'LL KILL YOU, I'LL KILL YOU! NO MATTER HOW MANY YEARS IT TAKES— I WILL KILL YOU!“

  But it's proven that no matter how many times I break this hand. It'll always be healed.

  Because I'm immortal now.

  The witness to this rage is none other than the pain that will haunt me, it will forever be my companion.

  The cold wind again brushed against my face, bringing me back to the guilt. The reality. I glanced over to the graves, no longer with anger, but somehow a faint determination.

  “There's nothing I can do but that… I have nothing but that…“ Sheathing my sword, I dusted my clothes.

  I don't know how I'll do it, but I will have my revenge.

  The last golden glow from the sun shone on the ring on my hand. Our wedding ring, silver, etched with a unique pattern. The day I married my wife, had Sarella, and the day that I never thought of…. burying them myself.

  Keeping my head up high, drowning any emotions that will restrain me.

  The castle, my castle, is now just a husk of memories that I had to leave behind.

  My pace dwindled as I glanced left and right. I can see the bodies of my soldiers who risked their lives for me.

  Not only the soldiers.

  Women and children.

  Their dead bodies rotted the city, eaten by rats and maggots.

  Walking over them, my heavy steps echoed in the alleyways. The eeriness of the city was ascertained. No one was left alive except my worthlessness.

  Rain fell from the darkened sky, almost presenting what I feel. My heart, though beating, felt like it stopped every time I saw the people I once saw with smiles on their faces.

  The path leading up to the northern gate was littered with soldiers and demons. Upon closer look, the demon soldiers, like Mortivus, almost look humanoid with varying skin tones and facial features, except for some parts like teeth that are sharp like carnivores and eyes, bloodshot, but mostly human-like. Horns and the size of their bodies are the only factors that differentiate them from us.

  What the…

  The madness that occurred just beyond the northern gate was like a sea. A sea of dead bodies. Soldiers from both sides must have battled here. With the humans mostly fighting here, not letting them get through into the city. But they eventually got through from underground, killing everyone who was supposed to be guaranteed safe. Hence, houses and shops were infiltrated so easily.

  We were severely overwhelmed.

  “Mortivus had us in his hand all along…“

  Ten meters from here was like a pool of blood, red, viscous blood. Amongst the bodies, the only thing that caught my eye was a human soldier. In the middle, headless, blood-soaked armor, with his knees on the ground. I walked towards it, blood slowly painted my boots.

  I know that stature, that physique. It's him.

  “Fuery…”

  In his hand, the sword I had gifted him. Shattered like a mirror.

  The valor in it was long gone, but… remnants of his soul still linger in his grip.

  “May your soul rest in peace, my Sword Saint.“

  It's dark, I don't know where to go from here. Glancing back at the northern gate, I could see the castle from here. Solemnly standing, with no life present.

  Clutching the sword at my hip, I move forward, gazing into the night.

  Wandering to God knows where…