[writing] Project Chaos - Chapter Twenty-two

[djtenku]

Title: Deathsong
Word Count: 1801
Summary: Exhaustion. Betrayal. Prophecy.

The snow fell gently, covering the ground with fresh powder, whiter than before. Kento sighed at the sight of the collapsed armory, not caring about the crisp air that bothered his wounds. He was numb and exhausted, running on will alone. That, he felt, wasn’t enough on its own. His mind wandered as he limped towards the forest, suddenly bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders and back.

Eventually, he stopped as a stray thought crossed his mind and glanced down at the barely conscious Shin in his arms. All this time, he was hardly there for her when she needed him, but she was there for him when he needed her. Kento looked away in shame and looked elsewhere as she looked at him.

“I’m so sorry,” Kento murmured. “I…”

Shin pulled herself closer, wrapping her arms around his neck and nuzzled him. “Please…” she pleaded, her voice nearly lost in the calm wind. “Can…we go home?”

By the time he looked at her again, she was unconscious. Kento sighed again, finally accepting her words. “Yeah, let’s,” he said, gazing down the widening path of forest. He barely heard the transmission about the plane landing.

-

The trek went in silence, and it bothered Xander greatly. He wanted to confess to his son, but a flash of his memory reminded him what happened lasted, and bit his lip. There was a different air around him this time though, calm and indifferent. He couldn’t put a finger on the last feeling, but something told him Rowan was also somber. About what though?

Still, Xander didn’t know whether to speak about it. But once again, he didn’t know how his son would react. He barely knew him. “Uhm…Rowan?” The gaunt man started. “I…know this has been something that no one has to go through. Uhm…”

“Talk about it later,” Rowan answered distantly, mind clearly on something else. He glanced at Xander, and noticed he was shivering violently. He sighed as he unfastened his jacket.

Xander balked as Rowan placed the jacket over his shoulders. “What was that for?”

“You’re cold.” For the first time, he looked at Xander, and no feelings of hate surfaced.

“Aren’t you going to freeze?” his father asked, raising an eyebrow.

“This stuff’s insulated; I’ll manage.” Rowan looked elsewhere briefly, and sighed. “I’m sorry for my actions. I’m…not in the right frame of mind right now; forgive me.”

“You had every right to be angry at me, Rowan,” Xander said. It felt a little odd, after all these years. He clutched the sleeves of the jacket tighter. “I wasn’t thinking at all. I…” Xander fell silent as his murky vision spotted a small amount of small falling from a branch not far. Instinctively, he turned towards Rowan for an explanation.

There was a strange look of horror and anger as Rowan looked down and saw an arrow lodged in his stomach. Calmly, he snapped off most of it off and threw away the quiver. Already, it was the beginning of the end; however, something pleaded that he had to change it, no matter the cost. He glanced at Xander with his bright green eyes; Xander nodded, for once understanding his son without words exchanged and raced off; gripping the jacket even tighter.

Another branch swayed, and Rowan looked up, spotting the slender woman amongst the snow capped trees. He noticed part of her dress was stained red. “Roya…” She no longer had the look of vague hope, but distance and sorrow. “Why?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, reaching for another arrow from her quiver. A tear trickled down her cheek before freezing, and she wiped it away. “I had a change of heart, so to speak.” She thought back to what Lang said and bowed her head, trying to stop the tears from flowing. “What better place to die, in this quiet peacefulness, dear Rowan?”

Rowan shook his head, ignoring the pain. “No, you said we’ll go together,” he said. “You’re already free. Please…don’t do this!”

Roya closed her eyes, mind set. “I’m sorry,” she said again in a different tone, drawing back the delicate bowstring. “You can’t save me anymore.”

Rowan barely had enough to react, and blinked as he felt a small sting on his face, and a thin trail of blood trickled down his cheek. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the arrow lodged within the tree. Instinct moved him to an nearby tree, and knelt. He didn’t understand it at all. Maybe it was a trap all this time… Rowan shook his head at the thought. This isn’t her at all. Something’s happened to –

All thought ceased as the sudden migraine came back, and he buried his head within his hands. He didn’t bother with the medicine. There was no possible way to fight it; it was several moments before it subsided and he looked up at Roya again.

Roya’s eyes went wide as she saw the haunted look, the same exact expression she remembered as he woke up. There was a flash of grief in his eyes, as if he knew the outcome of the whole affair. Instead on dwelling on it, she readied another arrow and released it; Rowan moved in time as he rose, unshouldering the rifle. Upon a glance, he only had seven shots left and no clips remaining. Another arrow flew by and he heard the distinct whistle, a low purring noise.

Rowan knelt behind another thin tree, cradling the rifle and listened intently for the sound of the branch giving way to weight. There was no time to sight the woman; the scope was too reflecting for his liking. The ground lit up as the clouds broke their hold on the sky, revealing the setting moon just over the mountains. It was still snowing steadily; the light caught it and it appeared to him, as tiny stars falling.

He managed to tear himself away from the sight and peeked beyond the tree. He cursed as he realized he lost sight of Roya. Rowan saw a flash and shot at it. Roya flinched as the round pierced her cauterized shoulder, more surprised that it hit the same spot twice. She remembered his warning from the earlier encounter and immediately knew time wasn’t on her side anymore; she dropped unto another branch gracefully and readied another, smiling to herself.

Rowan decided it was time to move, but the arrow embedded in his stomach slowed him down. The moonlight caught the incoming arrow in time and he scrambled, too late. It penetrated his left arm completely, through muscle and maybe bone – he didn’t care - and Rowan gritted his teeth as he snapped one end and dug the remaining arrow out. He scowled as he tried moving it. Where was she? His bright green eyes strained to see; he even tried to spot the red, but amongst the heavy forest and light, it was near impossible.

Again, he cradled his rifle with his good arm, this time closing his eyes, quieting his random thoughts for few scant moments. His rationale tried to figure out the next action. Better yet, how could I prevent that arrow from killing me? Rowan’s ear twitched at the sound of a clump of snow falling, but did not move at all.

Roya pulled back the silver string, mildly disappointed that he didn’t come out of hiding, until she found a long shadow, and let the arrow fly, hoping it was enough to go through the tree itself. He came out at the last possible second and shot twice before she even had a chance to blink. Roya looked down at her stomach and saw the alarming red spot expanding, and clutched it, feeling warm blood seeping between her fingers. She looked down at Rowan pleadingly as he started for her again.

Then, Rowan stopped as the sight sunk in, and snapped out of his trance, horrified. “Roya…what have I done?”

Roya managed to steady herself again and in a instant readied a red feathered arrow and released it. The arrow pierced Rowan’s chest and the force of it threw him back into the tree and pinned him there. He gazed down at it, feeling no pain, just expanding numbness, mystified. Up until everything felt like it was a dream, and the pieces fell together, and so did his answer. He realized that he didn’t want to harm her to begin with, and that was his mistake that he hesitated like that.

Rowan watched as Roya plummeted to the soft ground, and he tried wrenching out the arrow. Only pain followed and he stopped, suddenly aware of his waning strength. His breathing became more shallow by the minute, and he wondered if he was going to die. Each dream did end with death each time, as if it was inevitable. Roya slowly rose, leaving her bow and shedding her quiver, and brought out the hooked dagger. Her face was twisted with anger and hurt as she approached him.

Rowan was too weak to speak; he could feel life slipping away as well as strength, and saw the woman place the very tip of the blade directly over his heart, staring into her eyes. “You don’t want to kill me, do you?” he managed, taking her by surprise with his soft tone. “I can see it.”

“Don’t,” she warned.

“You would’ve done it a long time ago,” he pressed.

“I said don’t!” Roya pressed the hilt down and the tip moved in further. She gazed at him, expecting some sort of a reaction, but he showed none, as if he was accepting it. Tears welled up in her eyes as she realized that she didn’t want to kill him either. Roya dropped the dagger, its tip stained in red. On the verge of her realization, strength left her. She was caught by Rowan and he pulled her close to him. What for, she never knew, but she took comfort in the gesture.

“What will become of us?” she asked quietly. The wind nearly took her words away. “Will we ever see each other again?” Roya smiled faintly as she closed her weary eyes. She didn’t need a answer; she felt right in his arms. “Perhaps…in the next life we…will meet again. We won’t have to worry…about anything. There…will be peace. Rowan…” Her voice dropped into a whisper. “…thank you…”

Rowan stared up at the setting moon for a while, realizing that Roya was now dead. There was a strange feeling of emptiness within, and he felt the weight of the world crashing in on him, the forest melting away, and the moon turning to darkness. He sighed heavily as he closed his eyes, with the lingering sense of sadness and grief.