Marxel’s eyes widen. Stunned.
I don’t blame him – even I’m not sure how I was able to move.
His gaze drops to the knife thrust into my abdomen. Horrified, his first instinct is to correct his mistake, drawing the long dagger back out from inside my body. I jolt from the motion, a ragged gasp filling my lungs.
Everything runs cold, the full extent of the pain not yet registering.
‘What have you done?’ a voice murmurs behind me. Who is that? It’s familiar, but different somehow. Strained. Weak. A firm pair of hands turns me. My legs buckle and I grab hold of their coat.
William supports my weight, his face contorting to an expression of genuine confusion.
Master, you will die from this wound.
Just over the ice demon’s shoulder, I can see it. The black cat. Tucked away under the rocky ledge at the back of the chasm. Its ominous eyes hold my own, trapped in a foreboding trance. William and Marxel converse in a language that sounds unintelligible to me now – muffled versions of words that don’t reach me as time slows.
The creature isn’t wrong. I can feel it.
My fingers reach down to stop the scarlet river that pours out with every breath. I press against the wound through gritted teeth. Firmly. An attempt to foster the small grain of hope that I still hold.
It’s no use.
Blood soaks through the black party dress, covering my stomach in its sticky warmth. It’s unstoppable, squeezing through the tightest fingers, lining them with a deepened red. Blood escapes from my hands, dripping onto the ground, darting down my legs. All encompassing.
My vision blurs, my limbs becoming weak as the world disorientates around me.
This isn’t good.
William lays me down on the ground, gentler than I had expected.
This servant can help you, Master.
I can feel myself fading out of consciousness. William’s voice murmurs in my ears, a frantic tone. It’s possible he’s trying to reassure me but it’s his voice itself that is the comfort.
My breath is shallow, my lungs barely able to breathe. Slowly, I focus my breath, a naive attempt to conserve energy. Just let in one breath at a time. A cold feeling tingles around my hand. It’s being held.
We can make a contract.
I roll my head to the side; the creature’s eyes connect with my own from amongst the darkness.
This creature does not know how it will go. It has never made a contract with a mortal before.
A sudden heat sears through my body. Blinding and excruciating pain. Close to death, I fear I may be delirious. It burns, the smell of my own charred flesh singeing my nose. Despite my wavering consciousness, I can feel my lips cry out, a wrangled voice.
Master, this servant will need a sacrifice but it’s afraid – your blood. It’s…
I know. It’s not enough this time.
A gentle hand brushes my forehead, another on my stomach.
My eyelids become heavy. I can’t speak but my lips can move. I mouth the answer to the creature, cautious not to attract the attention of the others and praying that the creature can understand my voiceless words.
It does.
Albeit it hesitates, its voice ceasing to speak for a few moments.
If you do this, your life span will be halved.
I nod. If I don’t survive now, there won’t even be a life span to half.
The cat falls to the ground, its form deconstructing to nothing but a shadow. It slinks around the cracks and corners, undetected, arriving just a few centimetres from my head. A black tentacle tentatively reaches for a strand of hair, latching to it and riding its shadow. The creature moves underneath me quickly, anticipating something that I can’t.
Bringing my eyes forward, I steal a glance. William is kneeling over me, his determined expression facing Marxel.
I accept this contract. I accept your soul as sacrifice.
Just before I close my eyes, William looks down at me once more, his hazel eyes staring fiercely into mine. Unwavering determination. Maybe I am delirious. I’ve never had anyone look at me like that before, not even Rye. I want to tell him it’s not his fault. I want to tell him thank you and I want to tell him I’m sorry. I want to tell him a lot of things…
If I make it, maybe I will.
My eyelids drop like heavy shutters, and the world turns cold.
Master.
Nausea waves over me, groans escaping as I awake on the hard ground. The air is still, thick as it travels into my lungs. I’m alive?
Vigour returned, my hand slaps against my stomach feeling for some sort of gaping wound. Perfectly painless and perfectly healed. Thank God, or that slap would have really hurt.
