The Winter Sun

Chapter 21

A nightmare.

It was a nightmare.

The scene unfolded inside Lach's mind again and again. The King's head severed from his neck, falling for agonizing eternity to the floor, the crown rolling away from it.

Lach's stomach soured, and his face twitched each time, the head thudding painfully against the marble. They were all doomed.

A voice mumbled from inside the courtroom, pulling Lach out of his trance. He grabbed the hilt of his sword and torch, whose light struggled to breathe, and strumbled to his feet.

His legs pounded as he rushed down the tunnel. It narrowed with each step, shallowing his breath and darkening his sight. He staggered against one of the walls, his stomach heaving his breathing into harsh gasps. It couldn't be. He told himself over and over like a haunting song. It couldn't have happened, but Lach couldn't wipe the blood off his sight and hands.

The light slowly died with the remnant of his sanity and hope.

Soon darkness embraced him, and his heavy wet gasps were his sole proof he was still alive. Lach pressed the back of his head against the cold surface and shivered down to the floor. The gasps slowly faded, leaving him in a pure silent obscurity.

The glow of a flame flared into the corner of his eyes, and Lach tightened his grab on the hilt of his sword as he rose again. It grew brighter, and he pointed his trembling sword in its direction. A person covered by a cap shadowing their face slowly surfaced before the end of the long metallic weapon. "Who is that?" He yelled.

The person slowed to a stop. "Lach?"

That voice.

Soft and melodic. A gush of warmth invaded Lach's chest so much that his knees almost buckled.

The sword lowered down to his side. "Princess?"

The cap was pulled back, revealing tight curly hair and striking deer-like eyes. It felt like all the world's evils got removed from his shoulders. All the death, poverty, famines, and the world's inherent wickedness evaporate at least for a second. His shoulders slumped with a weak sigh. "I- How...You are alive..."

She tilted her head as her lips curved upward as if she had never been tainted by such evil, and Lach spared a thought that he wished she would never be. "Of course, I am alive." She said with a clear chuckle before her eyes roved over the man. Her features stilled. "What happened to you?" her eyes fixed on the blood on his hands and shirt, and Lach pulled his sleeves down.

"I- This..." The words stuck in his throat. The King's head hit the floor again, and his bile rose.

"Why are you covered in blood?" A warry edge took over her tone as her eyes seek for an answer, and Lach's throat tightened with the horror, the shock, and the grief. He tore his gaze away. "Lach? What's going on? Did someone hurt you? I-"

The sword hit the sheath with a loud clank. "We have to go." He ignored the question in her frown. "We have to get out of here immediately."

He stepped away, but her shadow hadn't followed his.

He looked back, and that was when the strap on her shoulder revealed itself. A bag. Lach frowned as she turned her body to the side, hiding. "You are-"

"Do not say anything," She urged, getting closer, the torch blinding Lach for a second. "If Father knows... he will punish me for eternity." Lach's jaw tensed. She blinked. "Did you hear me?" Her gaze searched his behind his wet strands, and he put it down. "Lach? Why won't you look at me?" Her voice faltered.

Lach exhaled, stepping closer. "I don't have time to explain, but you are in danger. You have to leave now. They are looking for you."

She took a step back, shaking her head. "I don't understand what you are talking about. Who are they?"