BY SAMANTHA ROSA
A serene sleep ended violently by a piercing scream. The shriek reverberated within his brain’s inner mechanisms. His pale lids rapidly expose sapphire eyes as he registers what it is. Racing towards the distressed voice with phenomenal speed.
Again, a cry is released into sky. This distanced shriek encompassed by overwhelming pain, not too long ago, was filled of delicate notes. The voice, of which these yells belong, is one that sings its daily speech. That voice, oh so familiar, belongs to Aeryn. His love that he will do anything for, that he will give everything for. He cannot bear to hear his love in devastating agony. He needs cleanse her of the torments of this world.
As he draws near, his radiant eyes darken to a color that of which closely resembles that of the midnight sky. He bears witness to the origin of Aeyrn’s aches and whimpers as she hobbles to the stream near the village lines. Scarlet blood drenches from a tear in her porcelain skin, onto the woolen fabric of her dress. She yelps from the stinging laceration as she tries to sterilize it. Wincing, she braces herself against a rock of the edge of the water. All she wishes for is her sweetheart before her. She can handle anything with him by her side. With her love on her mind, she can only smile.
Rapidly overcome by a crisp coolness, she hears “I’m glad to see a little old scratch can’t keep my angel from smiling.” Aeryn’s eyes snap open with excitement. The sight of her sweetheart kneeling before her is overwhelming. “How did this happen, my dear?” He says as he dips her crimson dyed hands in the crystal stream.
“Healing won’t do me any good.” Her love meets her eyes with a mystified look and whispers. “Poison?”
“No, my darling. Look closer, see now?”
He did. He saw her striking maize colored eyes fade to a pale cream. She was dying. Nothing can save her, nothing permitted. It was a drastic attempt, not promised to work, forbidden magic. He and Aeryn were already lower class for being born with these abilities; there was no other way. Their love was strong. It will be the base to power the enchantment he needed. He looked deep in Aeryn’s eyes whispering in ancient dialects. Nothing happen. Nothing.
Aeryn looked back at her sweetheart. Tears pool against her eyes as she notices his deep cobalts wither into pale steels. In that brief moment, as life’s magic was being exchanged between their airs, the world had never seen a more devoted love than theirs.
This story is not a tragedy, for Aeryn will always have her love, her strength, her Elias.