Chapter 52:Alwyn's Reckoning
He was alive. The blonde knight. Awe-stricken, dumbfounded, yet his eyes widened in a surge of elation and disbelief. He wavered slowly towards the voice, his gaze locking onto the figure. As the knight's eyes landed on the form before him, the initial elation contorted, twisting into something far beyond fear – pure horror. His widened eyes turned bloodshot.
*Was he still alive? The question thundered through his mind. The knight before him… he was…
His body was slick with a dark, viscous liquid. It smelled not of blood, but of something far more foul, like rotten meat left to fester. Beyond that, his armor, once gleaming, was now rent and torn, scored with deep gashes. A cavernous wound gaped in his chest, leaking a steady stream of crimson.
From the perspective of a terrified child, the sight was an abomination. The knight's face, previously pale, was now a deathly white, sunken eyelids casting dark hollows beneath them. His eyes, once full of a knight's resolve, were now vacant, devoid of lustre. His injured arm hung limply, swaying with each labored breath like a gruesome, bloody stick. Blood dripped, staining the path he'd approached with a macabre, crimson trail.
He looked chillingly like the monstrous, man-like creatures they had been fleeing, with the horrifying exception that this knight was still sentient, not yet consumed by the frenzy. Yet, primal instincts screamed caution. He instinctively drew his sister closer, shielding her behind him, his other hand forming a protective guard. His body recoiled, a silent step backward.
The knight's dilated eyes flickered at his defensive posture. A ragged sigh escaped his lips, a sound that scraped against the tense air. "Ah… seems you are scared of me now, lad…" His weakened voice, a mere thread of sound, loomed as he took a staggering step towards the immense, rotating wheel. Each step left a fresh smear of blood on the stone-slabbed floor.
The knight's words jolted him. Realization struck like a physical blow. He had just recoiled from someone who had nearly died for him and his sister. Resentment, sharp and self-loathing, clawed at him. His mouth trembled, shaping the most sincere apology he could muster.
"I'm… I'm sorry. I… didn't mean to…" His words, rougher and more jagged than he'd intended, faltered. He'd meant to offer a more composed apology, but the knight's labored voice sliced through his thoughts.
"It's okay… Uhm… uh…" he managed, a faint smile touching his lips as he paused, gathering his strength amid the haze of pain and exhaustion. "Alwyn. That's your name right...Alwyn." The words emerged with a quiet certainty .."It's okay to be scared. I mean, with the state I am… I'm no different from them." His body slammed against the giant wheel, his breaths coming in ragged, desperate gasps, as if fighting for air. Yet, that faint smile remained plastered on his face. "Superficially, I mean. You understand, right?" he added, his gaze now questioning as he reached for the wheel, using it as leverage to heave himself upward. His blood, now scattered like dark jewels, began to pool on the steel surface.
As limited as his young mind felt, he knew. Deep down, as painful as it was, the truth was stark and undeniable. The knight was on the precipice of death. He'd accepted this fact earlier, but seeing it so starkly laid bare before his eyes… it felt… it felt… His own eyes burned, the moisture threatening to spill over. Superficially, he nodded. He had to be brave.
He watched the knight's eyes briefly scan him, then with a faint chuckle, he turned back to the metal wheel. He attempted to spin it, mustering every ounce of his remaining strength with his one usable arm. A heavy grunt escaped him as he pressed his body against the wall, his movements a desperate dance against oblivion.
Seeing the knight's struggle, a powerful urge to help surged within him. But then, he glanced at his own small hands, his diminutive stature. The disappointing answer settled in his gut. He wasn't in a position to assist.
A deep, groaning creak emanated from the colossal metal gate, a sound that fractured the air. A streak of dust billowed from the opening, jolting him from his reverie. His body instinctively yanked his sister away from the behemoth structure.
The gate. It was opening.
His mind spun with a surge of elation. Through the widening gap, his bewildered eyes could glimpse the deserted landscape, baked fiery by the relentless sun. In mere seconds, they would be free of this cursed city. The sacrifices of the knights, he thought, had not been in vain. They must be rejoicing with them now, from above, alongside Mom and Dad. All eternally happy.
But then, the gate stopped. The colossal, dark maw halted its progress, refusing to budge further. His hopes crashed with it. *Why did it stop?*
His answer came, preceded by a chill that made his hair stand on end, as if he'd been submerged in ice water. The dark, towering visage of fog, leached of all light, materialized before his trembling eyes. It was mere feet away, and from within its depths came guttural, terrifying growls that seemed to emanate from all around him.
His body scrambled backward, pulling his sister with him. Her trembling hands clutched at his tunic. He responded by grasping her hands, a futile gesture against the overwhelming fear. He was too terrified to feign bravery now. This deep dread seemed to well from the fog itself.
His heart resumed its frantic pounding, his eyes dilating so much he felt his vision blurring. He prayed with all his might – *Mom, Dad, help them.* He gulped, continuing to step back, away from the towering darkness. But it felt futile. He was now pressed back-to-back with the slightly opened gate, his small stature obscuring a sliver of the sunlight that dared to filter through the gap.
The gap. He gazed at the sliver of space, his last clear glance before his world was consumed. His vision was almost clouded, but for the faint glimmer of light escaping the narrow opening. He studied it, realizing it was far too narrow for him.
But for Ruby… he groaned. It was still narrow, but not impossible. A determined push, and Ruby would be able to squeeze through. His hands clasped hers tightly. Just one push, and she… only she would be able to pass. Not him. Not…
Then it struck him. The knight. Why had he stopped turning the wheel? His eyes snapped frantically to where the knight had been. Zooming in with all his might, he saw him.
He was…
His eyes widened, petrified, glued to the trail of blood slowly seeping from the blonde knight's lips, down his neck, and onto the… claw? He shrank back, so hard his backside collided with the floor, his sister tumbling with him. He paid no heed. His mind was elsewhere, his eyes still fixed on the gnarled hand that protruded from the knight's left chest. The knight's eyes held disbelief, yet they slowly dimmed, before drifting to his figure, focusing on him, as if his dying gaze held a message.
Shakily, tears tracing paths down his cheeks, his body trembling, he could tell from those fading eyes… that… He sniffled. He was saying goodbye. That it was all up to him now.
His vision blurred. Slowly, the crimson staining the ground crept towards him, as if it itself held a comforting solace it wished to share. Then, it retreated, pooling once more at the knight's feet. His dying eyes remained fixed on the wheel. Trembling, he watched the blonde knight stretch his bloodied hands towards it, his fingers writhing weakly. But the movement stopped mid-air as a guttural growl erupted, and the hand embedded in the knight's chest retracted with shocking force. It left behind a void where a heart should have been, and a monumental spray of blood.
In that instant, his world went silent. All he could hear was a single, compressed note. He heard nothing else – not the rustling of his sister against him, nor the terrifying growls that circled them. All he saw was the falling body of the knight.
His armor, once a symbol of strength, clattered and scraped as his body crumpled. His outstretched hand, a final, desperate act, brushed the wheel, causing it to rotate a fraction before his form landed, a heap of broken limbs at his knees. His head hung down, his eyes closed. His blonde hair, though matted with blood, still managed to catch the faint glimmer of light escaping through the fog. His arms hung limply, touching the ground.
He was dead. The blonde knight. He was… he was dead. His own hands fell limply to the stone floor. His body was too numb to cry. The weight of what lay before him was crushing, annihilating any will he had, any determination to escape. How could he live, knowing his survival was a product of this… this horror? The anguish that plagued him threatened to drown him.
He sniffled, a moistness pouring from his nostrils. His eyes wavered, then refocused on the creature responsible. But what he saw only intensified his anguish. His body stiffened. It was the lady knight. The one who had saved him and his sister. Her flowing red hair danced in the encroaching darkness. Her amber eyes were now milky, her skin ashen, etched with bulging purple veins. An arrow was lodged in her chest. In her hand, she clutched a bloody cone, which pulsed faintly.
Lady Auria…
His eyes drifted back to the dead, kneeling blonde knight, then back to the now-ashen Lady Auria, who was devouring the bloody cone with her scarlet-stained hands. His heart skipped a beat. She hadn't come to save them. She had killed the blonde-haired knight. She had become like the creatures his father had become.
*No, no, no.* His mind convulsed, reeling with contradictory thoughts. Lady Auria… she had died saving them. She… she was supposed to be in the sky, living eternally as a hero... wasn't she..
He watched Lady Auria, her face ashen and feral, cast a hungry glance in his direction. He stared, exasperated, frozen in place, his mind assaulted by images of his father – pallid-faced, approaching hungrily. His mother, lying dead on the floor, her eyes like the blonde knight's, wide open. His world spun. His stomach lurched downwards, emptying its contents onto the grime-stained floor. His breath came in ragged hitches. He could hear it – not faintly, but viscerally – his mother's struggles, her screams, before her stomach was ripped open. The image of it sent another wave of nausea through him. He vomited again.
He heaved in, then heaved out. His eyes, though teary, refused to shed their load. His gaze refocused on the pallid Auria, his savior who had become a monster. Would all the other knights also become monsters like this? Was his father still a monster like this? He gazed into the darkness. What stared back was the image of his father – pallid-faced, with dark teeth and claws, snarling at him. He shrunk back. *Pa… was he going to kill him too?* The breathing he had been trying to steady became more hitched. His eyes dilated, his vision blurring. He was losing consciousness. He was…
The gentle, shaky call of Ruby jolted him awake, pulling him from his silent reverie. His eyes rejuvenated, glancing at the pallid-faced, terrified Ruby. Her face was streaked with tears, moisture dripping from her nose. Resentment surged through him. She must have been crying for ages; he had been so self-centered he hadn't even heard her. Tightly, as hard as he could, he pulled her into his embrace, his arms wrapping securely around her. She was the only purity in this obscenity, the only one left. That was why…
His eyes glanced towards the gap in the city gate. It was already wide enough for her to pass through, if she squeezed and forced her way. He had the blonde knight to thank for that. He was a hero, until the very end.
His eyes now yielded a trail of tears, cascading down his cheeks, across his sunken, bitten lips, landing in droplets on his sister's tunic before being absorbed into dampness.
"I'm sorry, Ruby…" his voice hitched as he hugged her tighter, his own hands trembling, yet still holding her with all his might. "You'll have to go on… without me." His teeth ground against each other. He was scared. Truly scared, not only for Ruby's safety but of death itself. For deep within, a conviction laid: even he himself… didn't want to die. He wanted to live.