what goes up ghost around | dom, day 7

For every bruise and break that he had inflicted on someone else, Dominic was beginning to feel the same wounds blooming inside of him. He could feel the hurt spreading through his limbs as he licked his wounds again, slung his backpack over his shoulders again, told himself he was just trying to survive, again. Every person he had cut down to get here mattered to someone. A boy who had been a father. Callum, who had been a brother. What did it mean to survive when your life never went beyond that?

Once during training, he had accidentally sliced open a peer's hand with a sword, and tears welled up in his eyes nearly as quickly as blood spilled along the crevices in their palm. He had gotten the usual platitudes, accidents happen, you didn't mean it, before warm hugs turned back to steel. "You're a career, Merluccius," the trainer had said to him, blood and alcohol running down the blade as he wiped it with a cloth. "You'll have to get used to hurting others."

He had ducked his head in shame, and a hand threatened to crush his shoulder. Furry gray eyebrows spelled disdain above him. "It'll get easier before you know it."

When did it become easier? As far as Dominic could tell, it had only become more difficult. He trudged aimlessly through the sand, unsure of where he was going or what he would do when he got there but he knew he wanted everything to be over.

He kicked at the sand, and a great blue cloud disrupted the fog before him. Once the grains had settled, a faint shimmer on the ground caught his eye. Dominic cautiously crept toward it, and eventually the shimmer had materialized into a body - not of a human, but of a tiny viper. He furrowed his brows together. Why would there be a - oh shit. His heart dropped.

Where's Zenia?

As he knelt to scoop up the creature, he noticed the sheer number of scales deposited in the sand. Alarm set in further, and Dominic's hands shook as he closed them around the snake. He tiptoed alongside the trail of scales, desperately hoping that there wouldn’t be more remains. But there were - one corpse after the other, unseeing eyes turned to the sky. A miniature army decimated with its leader nowhere in sight. If these had been Zenia's pets, he couldn’t imagine that she would allow anything to hurt it without a fight.

Dominic began to pick up the pace, the splash of his boots telling him he had hit water. Another snake floated along the surface and curled around his feet, as if its soul were trying to latch onto something familiar. The sight nearly made him collapse on the spot.

"Zenia!" he cried out, thrusting his hands forward as if doing so would make the girl materialize from the fog just as Jade’s ghost had. He flailed his arms around for a moment before dropping them to his sides, eyes wide with panic. His feet crashed through the waves, louder, harder -

he stopped.

A shadow floated on the surface of the sea, water running its fingers through dark hair. White robes were red with blood, both recently spilled and recently scabbed, and nearby floated a once-proud crown. Dominic's throat constricted, and he bit back a cry as he made his way to Zenia's side. He told himself he wouldn't grieve anymore, but here he was sinking to his knees again, stroking another fallen girl's hair. She had died alone at the mausoleum on the very first day, and now she had died alone again.

He couldn't speak for a while, sobs still threatening to spill out of his mouth in place of a proper eulogy. He drew in a deep breath, resting his hands in his lap.

"I'm sorry we couldn't be there the second time, either," Dominic murmured. "You... you deserved better."

His eyes lingered on Zenia's face for a moment longer before he rose to his feet, cloak stirring the unstable waters around him. Everything about this beach was ill-fated somehow, like setting foot on the sand would initiate a countdown for your life.

As Dominic wandered blindly into the fog again, he wondered if this memory of a place he loved would take him next.