Sickly, Sweet - Book One

Ch. 21 - Reborn

'Beyond the grave, where the moon grins at death, is a body born from ash and dust.'

***
I don't recall a time when I didn't carry out a task myself. They say, 'If you want something done, you have to do it yourself.' At this point, I feel full responsibility for carrying out the force to end this all. I have no remorse for her and maybe I should, but I trust my instincts and feelings more. She's nothing but a mere target for me and it makes me feel inhuman.

"How do we kill her?" My voice, a hollow and cold sound, echoes through the library, piercing all ears.

"You're the only one that can kill her. You have her blood running through your veins. She doesn't know of the vampiric cells co-habiting with them," Valentine says. Clearly, he has been planning this for a while. It has been his prime goal to end the evil Queen. "She's not invincible. She can die either through decapitation or ripping her heart out."

"Yeah, who wouldn't die from that," Vladimir snickers with amusement. He grins and waits for our reaction but Valentine and I give him serious expressions. He just chuckles and shrugs.

"I suppose killing her couldn't be that difficult," I confess. "It's getting into her sanctuary that we will need to plan carefully."

"We'll need to speak with Sebastian about taking a group of soldiers in to test the environment," Valentine offers. "She's capable to doing anything."

Datura was a Crimson Seer, the highest ranking office you could appoint a witch. Crimson Seers are sent from Elriel, the Kingdom of Witches, to become seers and advisors for the royal family. The Moorehaven's, Datura's coven, consisted of seven witches, including her. The others were incarcerated for assisting Datura in creating an army of dark Fae's and the like. With their powers, they were able to do unimaginable acts under the moon, including giving Datura her immortality. Unfortunately, those witches are dead, making this task a little more arduous for my taste. They would have been the perfect source of information.

I look up, trying to contemplate on the plans and maneuvers I need to make for this operation to become a success. Datura is a dark, immortal witch with the host of darkness under her grasp.

On top of what is happening, Chelsea is sitting in Valentine's basement under the control of, who I assume to be, Augustine. Who else would be able to persuade her like that and get their hands on an enforcement collar? He's the only one that knows of our close relationship.

The thing is, I prefer not to have anyone be there. As much as possible, we need not have history repeat itself. It's already happening without consent but we can definitely alter the ending. I cannot have people die because of a conflict between two people that can be resolved with an easy surrender. I would like to leave this planet in good order.

Pride, is the cradle of war. Someone needs to kneel in humility for this to stop. If not Datura, then it must be us.

I don't notice the blood dripping from my palms until Valentine appears before me, taking my hand in his. "Saphira, love," he whispers. Realizing I pricked myself with my own sharp nails, I lift my hands in front of me, to examine them. I watch the blood drip down my wrists like roots, interweaving with each other and meeting at it's apex.

Things are meant to happen. Not everything in this life is explained but we cannot just simply complain about it. Our answers stare me right into my eyes. I smile, not minding the confused looks both Vladimir and Valentine give me.

With my supernatural speed, I rush over to the glass case I discovered earlier. Without a single thought, I punch the glass in, not minding the sting from the deadly shards. The shattering glass screams with a pleading voice to release its trapped and ruptured memories.