Crimson Stream [Has vs The vvitches Day 4]

Slate from District Nine heeds your advice. She doesn't move.

But your hands shake all the same. And instead of cleanly splitting her skull, you shift a little too far to the left, and cleave straight through her arm instead.

It's not the first time you've cut through flesh and bone to deal damage to a foe. But as the lifeblood pulses from Slate's new amputation, you lock eyes with her for just a moment.

She wobbles on her feet, or perhaps that's simply your own nausea catching up with you. "Well...." the other manages.

And then she falls, like a puppet with her strings cut. And the cannon confirms what you had just done.

You close your eyes, willing glass to become steel, jelly to harden to stone. You just killed a girl. Sapphire DeCaria will forever be the name of someone who tore another life from the living in order to keep her own soul rooted in survival. You've done what every kid in One aspires to every time they meet in mortal combat, and every kid in Seven fears might happen when they swing their axes.

Your axe is not a tool used to chop down trees or slice up wood. Not anymore.

“Yes,” Vargen's voice is akin to a snake, hissing with laughter. “I will let you live, Sapphire. I will let you run. I will let you watch the others die and only when you and I are the two alive, I will kill you.”

You barely hear him, hear his admission that he'd agreed with what was meant to be a taunt to prod him into asking rashly. “You live and die, because of my mercy.”

Was it mercy? Deciding who lived and who died? Was it mercy, to strike down Slate, in her battered, broken state? Or was it something else, something more primal? More evil?

Was killing to survive a crime, or an act of liberation?

You're dimly aware of your district partner crossing over to Slate's broken form. He kneels, kisses her forehead, an act that had it been any other you would have attributed to comfort - but with Vargen Forrester, you can never truly know for certain.

Then he turns back to you.

"Do you feel it, Sapphire?" And you don't have to ask what he means - for you know all too well what he is implying. "How your heart beats after that."

Is he referring to your soul? Your strength? Your courage? Or to the beating organ pounding so hard against its cage of bone that you're not quite certain isn't trying to abandon ship and leave its poor mortal vessel behind?

“That’s the thrill of a kill, the ecstasy of murder. It liberates you.” And there's a certain pride in Vargen's voice, one you had never heard before. Far from feeling rage at your act of striking down his ally, he seems almost pleased at the result.

"Perhaps we are alike after all.”

Torren's words from the days prior ring through your head. This doesn't define you, Sapphire. But it turns out that such things are easier heard than believed.

An axe flashes past you, finding a new home in Ubbe's stomach. A few feet away, Reyes tears into the girl from Five's leg, while Rhodes and Twelve chip in blows of their own. One death has been decided in this game of bones, and yet no one seems eager to end the conflict.

So fight on you will.

With every ounce of nerve you can manage, your raise your chin high in the direction of your district partner. "Was I supposed to feel something, killing your monster?" you ask, any waver your voice may have once had drowned by a rapidly encroaching hollow. "Hm. Guess I missed the memo."

You turn towards the girl from Five, fighting desperately sans both of her hands. A reminder of yours and Reyes' work. Another soul to put out of their misery.

You heft your axe, ignoring the steady dripping of crimson from the blade. This doesn't define you, you think.

But what you say is "Guess I'll just have to try again."

It is never ending. No matter how many buckets of blood I draw, no other follows the fate of the District Nine they call Slate and this drama has no end. Chapter after chapter with nonsense painted all over it. My energy is really fading. How I can even lift this heavy brute of a blade with a fracture and muscles thinner than hair particles, it is a fucking mystery. There are no battle cries but exchanges of lethal verbs, none toxic enough to instantly end the life of those that are crawling to the pearly gates.

No limbs perish against my blade, except I leave a big enough gaping hole on Penelope’s leg, Rhodes tries her best to slice through the other calf but barely kisses the skin. ”You will be a fine joke for me to tell when I get out of here. The girl whose hands went flying.” I may as well duplicate the insults as this is clearly not just a physical battle amongst these established foes.

Before I can plan the next strike, career boy and Sapphire are quick to scoop up the girl from Five, clearly both eager to take the I killed someone medal. I shake my head as I step back, every fresh wound and scar on the girl is by my own effort, how rude of them to sign her death certificate. ”Hey Sapphire, remember I loosened the lid on that one.”

It will be no easy reach for me to strike my sword once more at the Five, not now that the beast of District Two is blocking my way. I stand by poor Rhodes, her condition nearly matching that of the Hammerfell. Yesterday’s theme was protecting allies, I may as well drag this girl to another day. ”Twelve, can I make you run faster than what you did in the bloodbath? Don’t think that you can hide in the shadows.”

I pull down the hood from my skull, my brow is a swamp of sweat, fatigue as clear as the day. All I desire is to hear that canon sound, the sweet cue of the curtains drawing on exhaustion.