Magika [Completed]

Chapter 7

Wylerra 100 years ago

Aldeheid twisted his earring as he stared out the window opposite the alcove. The earring she gave him. Part of him wanted to rip it from his ear. He didn't deserve to wear it. Not after... the incident.

A month had passed since then. Yet Amalie's unmoving body, deathly pale face and lifeless eyes still haunted him, as though her image was imprinted on the back of his eyelids.

He'd retreated inward, like a turtle hiding from a shark. But the predator he hid from was one he couldn't escape, no matter how long he cowered in his shell. No matter how much he denied its presence.

Aldeheid didn't want to accept that Amalie was gone. He'd seen the servants wash and dress her body. He'd seen said body go up in flames, and watched the frigid winds of the tundra snatch the ashes away. Some of those ashes had been on a shelf in his room, until he'd screamed at the servants to remove it.

Now he found himself at an impasse. He wanted stay in his little shell of ignorance, hoping that - by some miracle - he'd wake up and realize it was a nightmare. Amalie would be asleep beside him, her hair tousled and mouth parted as she slept soundly. Everything would be fine.

But his mind rejected such fantasies and screamed at him to accept the truth. Accept the he'd killed her – the only woman he'd ever loved. It was almost poetic. They'd been making plans for their life together as magician and cape. And, just like that, it was all over. Amalie was but a testament to the fickleness of life. And he was a murderer.

Since that day, he spent his time wandering the castle halls, feeling less like a man and more like an apparition. He'd walk up and down random halls, up and down random stairways, putting one foot in front of the other until he eventually collapsed. Then he'd drag himself into an alcove to sit and stare into nothingness.

"Al, I found you!"

He turned his head at the sound of Wenry's voice, but said nothing.

She hopped up onto the chair next to him, her blonde ponytails bouncing with the motion. With her frilly dress flared out around her, she looked like a cherub atop a fluffy cloud.

"I picked this for you," she said, holding out a winterbloom. Its stiff, white petals were tinged purple around the edges. "I blushed it for you."

Aldeheid didn't realize he'd been staring at it for too long until Wenry took his hand and placed the flower in it.

"Iyari and I went to take some to the Temple for Amalie. Maybe you can come with us next time?" She looked up at him expectantly, but he had no answer for her. "Iyari told me that Amalie is in a better place, and that we'll get to see her again some day. That made me feel a little better."

Aldeheid shrugged a shoulder. The Queen had tried to offer him the same comfort. But it had done nothing to comfort him. All the condolences and pity he'd received sounded patronizing to his ears. 

"Oh! I almost forgot. Baba..." Wenry winced as though recalling some painful memory. "I mean his Highness wants you to come to lunch."

Aldeheid grimaced. He had no interest in food and only ate because he was forced to. The servants would bring his meals and refuse to leave -- on the Queen's orders -- until he ate every last morsel.

"Please, Al." Wenry pouted and drew her brows in tight. "If you don't come he'll get angry. He told me not to come back without you. I don't want him to yell at me again."

Why couldn't he grieve in peace? Staying in the alcove meant that Wenry would be subjected to the King's ire, but he had little interest in sitting through a meal with his family.