บท 13: The Path Less Taken
Where had I gone wrong?
Let's see, it all started when I was born.
Okay, maybe that was too far back.
Was it when those bandits had attacked us?
No, it was sooner.
Everything went wrong after that strange dream. What was it again?
There was a girl—a beautiful one. But that wasn't the important part.
Who was she? Black hair, blue eyes, couldn't say I've seen her before.
What was she saying? I couldn't remember. That is the problem with dreams. They aren't meant to be remembered.
However—I knew—it all turned bad starting from that point.
"So, will you forgive me even if I did this?" The bandit asked.
Fuck him, I will kill him.
I clenched my fist and swallowed the sour taste coating my throat. With a forced smile, I faced him.
"Of course," I answered clearly.
I will kill him—, kill him—, kill him.
The bandit started to laugh, "oh, that's good, I wouldn't know what to do if you hated me."
I wouldn't flee. There was no reason to. I would slit his throat, watch, as blood clogged up your airways, and listened to his muffled cries, echoing in my ears.
"Men, have you heard this, she has forgiven us," he shouted and turned towards his companions.
Tell me, what color is his blood? What does he want to be written on you gravestone?
My eyes met Estella's head. She looked just like a tragic heroine.
If it wasn't for the lack of her body, anyone would mistake her to be asleep. Her eyes were closed, and even in her final moments, Estella left with a faint smile.
A calm face, facing death. What her last thoughts were, I would never hear.
I would cry, if I could, but unfortunately, I couldn't.
Emotions do hamper the process of thinking logically.
I had suppressed them again. Now that Estella was gone, there was no need to feel anything at all. I had returned to my normal state.
Or rather, I had returned to my previous state.
Being cold was what I was best at after all.
I needed to make something clear. I was normal, I was average, but I was also unique. I was not special, but there's still only one me.
I had found peace with that idea a long time ago. It was a problem that had already found a solution, which was why I forgot it.
I had already been shaped.
This was not my first life. I did not have to go over it again. The real question was, how did I make those pests in front of me realize that?
How could I make them understand who I was? How could I make them understand what dilemma, what existential crisis, they had thrown me into?
It was simple, I kill them all.
"What should we do know," the magician asked.
"Let's wait until dawn."
I wondered, what was their connection with each other?
Obviously, they were a pack, but what were their relations?
Why was the leader, the leader for example.
Simply put, the mage stuck me as the strongest in the group, as the current leader presumably didn't use magic. He used a longsword after all.
I took a quick glance at him, only to see that he was already making his way towards the exit.
Then was their leadership based on a hierarchy?
The current one was the oldest. If I had to take a guess, he would be around 40. Meanwhile, the other three looked like they were approaching their early twenties.
Now, age might be a factor, but there were more important elements that came into making this decision.
Experience for example. It wouldn't rule out age either.
What kind of experience, though?
It couldn't be the experience of being a bandit, because I think we had established that those definitely weren't bandits.
Not the experience of being the strongest either.
Was it the experience of having lived through many battles?
I had no idea. There were too many variables to make any assumptions, but for now I could tell that they aren't a randomly assembled group.
Well, not totally random.
Another thing that interested me was that guy who walked in with the leader.
From the group, four people were still alive: The mage, his partner who he was protecting the hostages with, the leader, and the one who was with him.
He was the only one who cared about the death of their two comrades.
Above all, those who died were actually quite weak, in comparison to the others. A group with such a disparity in strength was weird.
Unless, they were actually two groups of three who merged into one group of six.
Meaning, that I could probably ignore him.
There was also the leader, who seemed to be a more standalone guy. His actions often were not based on what is logical, but on what he felt. He didn't consider the consequences of his actions and how it might affect his companions.
It looked like the group wasn't as harmonious as they appeared to be.
The crux of the problem lied in the magician and his friend. From their short interactions, I could tell that they knew each other well.
Then if I could separate them, killing them might turn out easier than I initially thought it would be.
The mage was a slim youth with black, unkempt hair, reaching down to his eyes. His dark brown eyes absorbed the light, and the circles around them indicated his lack of sleep. His clothes were old, slightly frayed and too large.
His friend, on the other hand, had long blond hair tied into a ponytail. His skin was white and he had deep blue eyes. On his hip hung a sword.
After the leader left, silence began to reign over us.
Only after some time has passed, and the cave fell into total darkness, did the mage ask, "should we get rid of those corpses?"
"That is a good idea, or they might start rotting."
"Let's throw them out of the cave at least."
Promptly, the duo stood up and made their way towards Estella and the guards.
As the black-haired mage tried to pick up Estella's body, I stopped him, and said, "wait, let me help you."
Suspicious by what I said, the youth stared at me.
"No need," he answered, and carried her body.
As if I was just going to let him touch her.
"Relax, it's not like I could run away, with you here," I tried arguing.
"Fine, suit yourself."
And so I did. Slowly, I picked her head up. The moment I lifted her off the ground, blood started flowing down her neck. It swept over my hands, like a red flood, it covered my clothes too. The warmth emitting from her cheeks and her blood, gently embraced my cold body.
Estellas soft lips began to lose its color, and her complexion turned white. Her hair was in disarray, and hid her face. For the last time, I took a look at her, to remind myself of her appearance.
Her brown hair, that smelled like almond oil and her amber eyes, resembling little jewels are all ingrained into my mind.
"Are you done," the mage said, with a clear voice, breaking me out of my illusion and pulling me back into reality.
I nodded and start walking behind him.
"I won't let you leave just yet," I softly whispered into Estella's ear and my voice got washed away by the silence of the night.
Tonight I was not the only one grieving. In the darkness was another person, clasping his hands, and praying for his dead comrades. He too left after offering his prayers.
Only after I reached the exit, could I see anything.
I was in the cave for less than an hour, but it felt like an eternity. How much had happened, and how much I missed the fresh smell of nature.
I had no time to enjoy it though, as it was overwhelmed by the fresh smell of blood.
I still held on to Estella's head and watched as the duo piled the dead bodies together. I wasn't actually really helpful. While stroking Estella, I—after spotting a nearby tree stump—took a seat and let my feet dangle in the air.
"Should we burn them?"
"No, let's do it when we leave."
"Hey you, bring the head over here."
The blonde guy suddenly pointed at me.
Huh, me? Why?
I asked him, "what do you need the head for?"
"Too turn it into ashes, of course. What do you need the head for," he responded, placing the emphasis on 'you'.
I gave him a sarcastic smile and answered, "sentimental reasons."
Suddenly the black haired magician started talking, "Don't worry, it won't be long before you two will be together," and threw the last corpse on the ground.
Quite direct, I see, but that was just the way I like it.
"You shouldn't scare a kid like that," the blond guy said and laughed.
"Hiding it doesn't change the truth."
"Doesn't mean you have to slap her with it."
It wasn't long before they began to argue with each other.
It wasn't a serious one, though. It was more of a quarrel between friends.
I think this was a good opportunity to act my plans out.
Gradually, I stood up from the tree stump and made my way towards them. The moonlight shone upon me, reflecting back into the surroundings, making my skin paler than it actually was.
A pleasant breeze continued blowing my garments into the air, causing it to float in the wind.
My hair waved at the nature around me and with a sharp gaze, I took my steps.
The sound of crushed leaves on sticks kept reappearing in a rhythmic manner, whenever I moved my small feet.
The whole time, Estella's head dangled in my arms, and I felt like a ghost out of a painting. That feeling was quite mystical, but the scene was tranquil.
I faced the black haired magician. As he was taller than me I had to really lift my head.
With my raspy, but feminine voice, I told him, "don't take me for weaker than I am."
Surprised by what I said, he stared down at me.
"What could you possibly achieve?"
That's the question, hmm? I'd show him. What it meant to underestimate me.
I lifted my arms that was holding Estella's head, and before long, Estella's face reached the same height as his.
Small quantities of blood droplets were still dripping down her mouth.
Her rugged hair was all over the place.
Her skin was colorless.
I opened her eyes so that she would stare at him.
"Tonight you'll die," I declared.
I pull my hands back, and Estella, who was obstructing the view between us, disappeared, revealing his complicated expression and my most alluring smile.
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