Fervent Sorrow {Completed}

Epilogue

King Marcius' POV

Chapter 31

A rapid knock on the door woke me up from my deep slumber. I open my eyes and my gaze lands on the clock by the bedside table.

2:43 a.m.

Who's knocking at this forsaken hour?

The knocking sounds again and I feel Mystasia stir next to me. I kiss her temple and get up to stop the knocking before it wakes her up. I slip on my shoes and throw my night robe on all in a quick second.

Just as the heavy knocking was about to sound again, I pull the door open.

An alarmed Reagan stares at me. I've known Reagan for over a hundred years and never have I ever seen him this disturbed. He looked paler than any normal vampire. A part of him looked, dare I say, afraid.

"Your majesty," he greets me before bowing his head slightly in respect. He sounded out of breath, almost like if he had ran to get me. His ragged appearance alarms me. "I'm sorry to have to wake you at such forsaken hour," he commences, "but she's here and she insists she must see you."

"She?" I ask, closing the bedroom door behind me. "Who?"

"General Wilburg, sir, " he clarifies, "She says it's urgent."

"Catherine?" I ask aloud, a chill running down my spine.

Is something wrong? Did something happen with Hansel? Are the children okay? Are they hurt?! If she's here at this time of night then it must be a matter of life or death.

"Where is she?" I demand, "Where's Catherine?"

We start dashing down the hall to the elevator. "She asked to meet you in your study. She waits for you there."

We take the elevator down.

"And sir," he adds, "She looks horrid. She looks ghastly pale. Her clothes shredded and tainted with blood. Now I'm not a believer of ghosts, but with the haunted look in her eye, she might as well be one."

He guides me to my office and at the door I excuse him, "Thank you, Reagan. You may return to your post."

He bows and after one last glance at the wooden door behind me, leaves. I cautiously open the door, not knowing what lay behind it, and closed it shut behind me.

My entire study was laced with a dark and cold atmosphere, it put my nerves on end. The lights were off and the study was freezing cold. The lit fireplace held the little warmth in the room.

My eyes dance around the dark room before landing on her. 

She stood by the fireplace. Her body faced the fire and, as I approached her, I saw her remove a medal rod from her thigh. She didn't even flinch from the pain or from the amount of blood that came out.

"Catherine," I asked alarmed, "What happened to you?"

She looks up at me and all warmth leaves my body. I immediately understood what Reagan meant by Catherine looking like a ghost. 

She looked like something from a horror movie. Blood covered her entire face and ran down her chin, seeping into her ragged blouse. She was covered head to toe in blood- some of it belonged to her and after a whiff, I realized that some of it did not.

I was so appalled by her appearance that when she spoke, she almost made me jump out of my skin. Her voice was smooth, yet raspy. Smooth to lure her prey in, and raspy to show show the inner turmoil in her.

"What happened to me?" she laughed humorlessly, her eyes meeting mine. They were empty soles, like if a part of her soul had died. She looks down at the ground and furrows her eyebrows in a contemplative state.