Bereft: Foretold

1 | A Mortal Reflection

Two Days Earlier

My life was a series of reoccurring disasters. 

From the first moment I had drawn breath in the scorched plains of the Pit, I'd been destined to write the ruin of every person I met. My survival had depended upon my ability to destroy the lives of others and the skill with which I created such devastation. Be they Dreaming Child or human, witch or mage, vampire or Valian, none had escaped my indiscriminate hunger for life—and I'd survived for a long, long time. 

Perhaps too long.

I watched the first drops of rain fall upon the windshield in translucent streaks. The sky above Verweald was an iron wall of gray clouds stretching far into the horizon, where the hills rose to form the valley and the dormant vegetation gave way to the sand and clay of the high desert. The city was behind us now, a backdrop of steel buildings and black spires against that wall of gray.

Amoroth drove, the scenery changed, and my eyes remained fixated on those streaks of water, for nothing outside the speeding car could hold my interest. Those first, scattered droplets dissipated in moments and left only the vaguest impressions of themselves upon the glass.

I likened them to the life of mortals; visible for an instant but soon forgotten and always disregarded. One droplet was the same as the next. One mortal was the same as the next.

I had been the sky: unreachable, unending, and eternal. I had been the horizon mortals aspired to reach but could never cross and the entirety of a coming storm with the power and rage to drown all those who trod in my shadow. 

Now, I was the raindrop. 

"Darius," Amoroth said, and I realized we had come to a stop. She'd parked the car alongside a curb before a familiar house. I looked across the untidy yard at the face of the vacant residence and felt my jaw tighten. 

"I do not want it," I spat for the fifth time between my teeth as the irritating woman drew the keys from the ignition and slid from the vehicle. She shut the door, and I was forced to clamor out after her so I could be heard. "I did not ask for it."

"That's all well and good, but you and Gaspard left far too much incriminating evidence from your revenge spree for the place to sit empty, so I acquired it." The Sin of Lust tugged the hem of her blazer into place as she paced the length of the vehicle to the wet curb. Her chestnut hair spilled from her head in a veil of unwound snakes and diamonds glittered at her throat and ears. She was several inches shorter than me, even in her designer heels, though any deficit in height was compensated with presence. 

All Sins had presence, whether they were human or Absolian in origin. We held a magnetism unique to our kind, an accumulation of aura and ether and sound gathered through the wending decades of our existence. We strode through this world and its inhabitants took note. 

Not we, I told myself. Not we. I am no longer a Sin.

"Besides, I can't have you in my apartment any longer. I've put up with your presence for a month and then some. That's more than generous." Her lavender eyes flicked in my direction and roved away without focusing, unable to settle upon me for more than a few seconds. For the duration of my time in the woman's home, she'd been unable to meet my gaze. I reminded her of what she'd lost.

My breath escaped me in a lingering exhalation as I crossed the parkway and the wet grass swayed underfoot. "I didn't want to stay with you, anyway," I told her. Unbidden, my thoughts continued, But I didn't want to come here. I never wanted to come here.