Beyond The Veil (A Paranormal Romance)

Epilogue

How long had it been? Days, months, even years?

Funny, he mused, smiling bitterly over his drowsy string of thoughts. Even now I'm hung up on worldly concepts that have no value here.

Nothing had value anymore. Not since he had lost everything. He existed only for the moment, hoping he could leave this place somehow; this place he so badly had longed for. But, as with most desires that grow out of despair and exponentially increase with the distance the heart puts between itself and the romantizised shadow of what had once been, reality had turned out to be nothing like the vibrant, sacred image he had drawn in his mind over the centuries, which he had religiously treasured and amplified as decades went by, adding affectionate detail after detail, until he had created his very own realm of sanctuary that promised nothing but healing to his martyred existence, and that had always kept him going. No, it was nothing like that. Disillusionment had awaited him on the other side of the veil. In fact, it was a rather grim truth that had unfolded inside the gloomy prison walls; here in his lonely somber dungeon, locked up like the traitor he had been deemed to be upon his return.

"Do you hear their sardonic laughter?" Like a breath of air his whispered words drifted through the darkness as the tips of his cold, raw fingers gently sought solace in the comforting warmth of thick, silky plumage.

With hooded eyes, the owl cooed softly, enjoying its master's caress.

"Soon it will all be over." A sigh escaped his throat and he couldn't really tell if it was out of relief or resignation, for they both were fighting a fierce battle within his chest - there, where a heart was supposed to be.

The bird flinched at a sudden sudden ray of light that poured into the tiny cell.

"Get a move on," a stern command bellowed from the door that had just been opened. "They're waiting."

The prisoner took a deep, a very deep breath, and then he awkwardly got up on his feet, brushing off the dust and grime of an eternity of idle waiting. It had arrived. His final hour had come.

**********

The courtroom was dead silent. At least four dozen pairs of eyes were transfixed on him; him, the disloyal servant, the one who had gone astray. What a sight he must have been to them. What a truly peculiar sight.

Sullen, sunken cheeks framing a face that told the miserable, lonely tale of a broken ethereal being.

His long, slender fingers were trembling ever so slightly as he ran them nervously through his ash blonde hair that had fallen over his tension-creased forehead, since he was sitting before the High Court with his head bowed, not daring to look up, for what he would see if he did scared him more than he would ever admit. Those eyes, those hauntingly beautiful eyes, trained directly on him, filled with so much anger, hurt, and most of all, furious contempt. No, he couldn't bear to look at her.

"Defendant," a deep voice boomed through the silence. "Would you be so kind and finally explain yourself?"

Time was running out. He knew it. He knew that whatever he would say it wouldn't make a difference. His fate was sealed. It had been ever since he returned, ever since he fell from grace.

Audibly grinding his teeth, he pressed his hands firmly on the small white table in front of him. He stared at them for a moment, as if watching in awe how his nerves had gotten the better of them,  causing them to shake so uncontrollably. He seemed to be lost in thoughts, frozen. Then, purposefully scooting his uncomfortable chair back a few inches, he slowly stood, the echo of his movements lingering in the stale atmosphere.