𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬 ➵︎ [ 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘧 ]

55| By one's own hand

This chapter is dedicated to icing-sugar!

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I stood on the staircase, overlooking the stone pathway that snaked its way through the village below. Townsfolk milled about in their day-to-day life, their movements carefree, their thoughts light-hearted. It was almost as if nothing had happened.

I wanted to believe them. I too wanted to forget. But the ugly wound on my stomach was a constant reminder that their world of blissful ignorance was far from the truth.

My hands unwittingly trailed to my abdomen, and I winced as my fingers brushed against the sore, tender skin. It no longer erupted in agony with every move, but the sharp and biting pain was ever-present.

Even my natural healing seemed disrupted, dysfunctional.

My fingers curled tightly into a fist. My healing had deserted me, and they could not help me, nor anyone else anymore.

I exhaled, slowly unclenching my fists as I savoured the sun's last rays of warmth. It would soon sink behind the mountains and the cold would take over. The freezing, icy cold that never left my nightmares.

"Daeriel!"

I immediately tensed at the sound of Aragorn's voice, feeling my heart leap to my throat. Immediately, I turned to walk away, my footsteps hastening down the flight of stairs as I tried to evade him.

But within moments, I felt his hand catch my wrist, pulling me back. At least I tried.

Reluctantly, I turned around, my eyes looking everywhere but him.

"What." I murmured, my focus fixated on the ground.

"You should be resting."

"Well, I feel better, okay?"

Partially true. Laying in bed with nothing but my spiralling thoughts to keep me company was killing me. I needed to get out.

"Can you just...leave me be?"

Aragorn shook his head in exasperation.

"I've lived so many years with your stubbornness," He muttered to himself, "you'd think I'd have learned."

He turned his focus back to me with a sigh as I stood there with my arms crossed.

"Daeriel, I care about you. And I don't want to see you more hurt than you already are."

I could hear the sincerity and sentiment in his tone. Slowly, I looked up at him.

"Aragorn...just..."

My mind came up empty as I tried to find the right words. Breaking eye contact, I looked to the side.

That's when I saw it. Rather, her.

My breath left my body as my eyes locked onto a face standing behind Aragorn. One that I knew all too well.

My own.

Before I could cry out, blood began to seep from his lips. The terrifyingly familiar sound echoed in my ears: the sound of a blade twisting through flesh and bone.

I could feel my hands tremble uncontrollably as I stood, paralysed, rooted to the spot, my mind spiralling out of control with a fresh sense of dread and fear.