Marriage: Orys, I

Isis has been slaughtered; blood seeped into the black soil on which she laid on. it was his turn, the point of her dagger pierced the back of his neck, yet he couldn't drive it through. Orys' head throbbed. Bright cherry lips spewed blood, the gash widening with every pulse.

Their marriage was intercepted by what felt like a thread being spun. The sun held him in place in the most crucial moment of their vow. From everywhere around him, the soil, the grass, the trees and the air held their breath. They were waiting in watch of his hand, of every slip of the blade. Suddenly he was that child again, surrounded by the farmhands, guiding him as he slaughtered his first animal.

He hears her again. Orys cried, recited his apologies, for being weak, for not doing as they planned, for being—but no panic entered his core.

None of it meant anything anymore.