The Legends of Kartas | Ongoing

22. FROZEN RETRIBUTION

Jimin was cold, unbearably cold. Misery tingled through his body as he dragged his feet back to the great hall, bumping against the now-dwindling flurry of guards and servants. Once, the shouts from the crowds reached his ears, but after visiting Sylvia's chambers, every sound eluded him—drowned by incessant static. At the thought of his sister, ice pierced Jimin's heart, and he clutched his chest, grunting. Why did he visit Sylvia? Why did he feel so much anguish when he imagined her name, her face, her eyes? Her beautiful, blue eyes.

A rogue tear drizzled down his face, its path staggered and tortuous. Lifting his hand to wipe it, he realized dried blood covered his hand. Actually, a thin layer of cracking crimson painted the entire left side of his body, peeling off of his skin like leaves that were whisked away by the wind. His hands—his mind—were numb, and chills ghosted Jimin's spine, tracing its frozen fingers down his nerves and reminding him he was so cold.

Frost started to spread over his limbs, and he doubled over as the world began twirling around him. The halls became blurry. Then the people and sky. Soon, Jimin lay in the eye of a hazy hurricane sprinkled with the jagged hues of autumn and the cool shades of Umbra. As he balled his fists, dried blood stretched his skin, and the sensation evoked memories of him cradling his sister's bloody head close to his chest. Panting, Jimin clenched his throbbing head.

Where was Sylvia? Murky flashes of a red Kartheus formed in Jimin's vision. Where was his sister, his mother, his father? Distorted pictures of splattered blood crashed against each other, panning towards three bodies resting in a pool of scarlet engulfed by darkness. Beyond the bodies, a rectangle outlined with a yellow light opened to a candlelit room. Inside, Tobias lay dead on his sickbed, his lifeless eyes staring blankly at Jimin.

All at once, Jimin's brain caught up to the present, and a wail tore from his throat. Sylvia was dead, killed right under his nose. And his father—King Leonis—was assassinated right before his eyes. For once, Jimin didn't care what everyone thought about him. He ignored all the eyes boring into him from beyond the hurricane and wept. Crying tears of grief, agony, and resentment, Jimin screamed as the ice in his veins grew violent and stabbed his insides, rooting itself in his heart.

It was all his fault. He had failed everyone he loved: his parents, Sylvia, Tobias. The people were right: he was a plague cursed with the sin of survival. Sinking his nails into his thighs, Jimin gasped in ragged breaths and tried to anchor himself to the bursts of pain spreading through his legs. Before he knew it, his nails broke his skin, and blood began staining his breeches in the form of five growing dots.

As the blood expanded, the air around him thickened and weighed him down with pressure like two hands pushing against his shoulders. Something watched him with a tangible intensity, but whether with sympathy or anger was beyond him. At the moment, he wanted to believe it was Tobias scorning him from the After for his stupidity and helplessness.

The notion only helped solidify that this was all Jimin's fault.

He allowed the failure to sink itself into his skin—brand him so he would never forget it. If Tobias were in Jimin's position, he wouldn't have failed. He would've protected Sylvia and his father and mother rather than go blind with panic after hearing a herald from a demon. He would've fought and protected and sacrificed himself to save those who were dear to him. But Jimin couldn't do any of that. Because of fate, he never could.

And now, he would never receive another opportunity to redeem himself ever again.

In a twisted sense, that thought brought clarity to his situation—to what he had to do next. As he struggled to his buckling knees, the ice reached his limbs, and along with it came a surge of emptiness that carved into his heart. Every step he forced himself to take alternated between snapping restraint and brimming resentment.