Chapter 28: Casandra (1)
Eriksson’s POV
“The worst part of forgetting is not even knowing something was ever there.”
—Eriksson Lennard
I wander through the streets, cloaked in the hues of the cold and noble—the architects of this realm. The fog has lifted; the day is half-spent. The sun beats down on my brittle hair, threatening to scorch it away. Yet, everything feels dull. Perhaps it’s just my imagination.
Families pass by—fathers carrying daughters on their shoulders, mothers trailing behind with vacant expressions. Their children mirror their coldness. I move past them, my arms still aching from hours of aimless wandering. My blood, once spilled, now circulates again, infused with magical energy. Or has it only been minutes? Time blurs.
I run my metallic hand through my warm hair and exhale deeply. What I wouldn’t give for a Nigil cigar—one of the few ties that still bind me to this kingdom.
"Catch me!" a child’s voice rings out, growing louder with each heartbeat. A little girl, smiling, runs without watching where she’s going. She collides with my leg and falls. I look down; her smile fades. My heart skips a beat. My hands tremble, even the prosthetic one. I collapse.
Blood—green and orange—fills my vision. "Ella!" someone screams, but I can’t focus. I try to rise but slip, my body unresponsive. Sweat pours from my brow, more than during the battle with the orange one. She looks at me, concern replacing her smile. She approaches, but I recoil. The blood is all I see.
"Ella!" the voice cries again. The woman grabs the child, pulling her away. "We have to help," the girl protests. "No means no!" the woman insists, dragging her off. As I gasp for air, they’re gone.