Literature
Chapter I: The Beginning of an End
Dreams. Amassing, cold presence. They coat his mind with hundreds of rusty nails, each being an undoing to his coffin. And there, among many creatures lusting for his blood, is her. Her eyes, lacking understanding, when he lifts a dagger and stabs countless of victims, with a fury that can move the mountains. In these eyes… cruel, cruel disappointment, which he can’t stand. Blood tears form in his eyes as his dagger sinks in her heart, her lips saying his name… “You could be all… you could be all… for me…”. She changes into a flurry of golden moths, leaving him broken, with only a bloodied dagger, hating the world. Hating himself. Himself, the most, he is only a wretched life in ruin, flaming wicker dummy, tossed to the river to end the winter.
“You could be all…”
He woke up, in a dug bed, his face and hair wet.
That was only a dream. But why on gods it was so painful. Why can't he just forget about her, when he knows she sees only a child in him and she would be a mother for him
