Fifty-Two ◑ The Death

The first thing that struck Lucille was fear. So pure and primal that she couldn’t even cry.

*She was deep in the woods, the very same forest she’d camped in with Dimitri and Keiran, only this time she was Lysandra, and the familiar place she was in had managed to become a monster in the darkness of the night.*

*Just like the man chasing her. A monster.*

*Lysandra pushed her aching feet to move through the path between tangled branches. Her pulse was nothing but a rapid thrum as she gasped for breath. She didn’t dare look back. It would only mean her demise. But all she could do was to keep moving forward.*

*Forward meant escape, safety, perhaps even a new start. Forward was something to seek, even though she had no idea where it was exactly. All she knew was that she'd done something terrible, something so unspeakably horrible that she'd be driven away from her own kingdom.*

*Her own husband was leading the way now, but not for the purpose of driving her back.*

*As to what that was her sin exactly, she couldn't really remember, but she was certain that it merited her death.*

*"Lysandra!" he was screaming in the background, his voice alarmingly loud and close.*

*She picked up her pace, her sandals digging into her feet as she trudged on stones and protruding roots. Leaves showered her, crunching underfoot and giving away her location. She pushed low-hanging branches off her path, not caring about the stinging scrapes they left on her skin.*

*Forward. This was all she ever aimed for.*

*On and on Lysandra went, her heart beating in her ears. Sweat ran down her back, soaking right through the fabric of her cloak. Her knees were shaking with nerves and exhaustion. Black spots began to dance in her vision as she gasped for breath, praying for more strength to keep running.*

*But her prayers fell on deaf ears. The gods didn't heed her. Not this time.*

*Knowing her plan was meeting its failure, she made a swerve to the right, towards the thicker, more dangerous part of the forest to avoid her pursuer.*

*However, just as she pivoted in her spot, Cadmus loomed into view and delivered a shocking slap across her face.*

*The impact of his heavy palm against her cheek seemed to make her brain rattle. She actually felt a bolt of pain zip along her right temple as she fell back on the ground. Her hair had come undone from its updo and was now scattered all over her face.*

Run, run, run, *her instincts told her, but she was much too tired for it.*

*"You," Cade snarled through gritted teeth, his face contorted into a look of pure disgust as he glowered at her. "How can you lie there and cry and act like the victim? You're vile."*

*Lysandra knew that. Yes, she was vile. Yes, she was repulsive. How many times had she heard that from men who thought of her life as a sorceress unacceptable? How many times had Cadmus himself said that?*

*Countless. And yet every time the words left her husband's lips, the wounds in her heart would reopen and bleed some more.*

*She remembered the day he'd showed up for the race to win her hand. Because of the potion she'd given him as a favor, he'd run faster than the wind and came out triumphant.*

*He'd won the race. He'd won her. Not just as a prize. Not just as a bride. He'd won her heart.*

*The wedding had been grand, seemingly blessed by Hera herself. The details of it were oddly blurred; Lysandra had been too giddy to fuss about anything else but her husband. She'd been ready to give what was left of her, ready to give not only her love but her entirety.*

*But that hadn't been enough, had it?*

*"You already took everything," she said, finally letting out what she'd been wanting to say for a long time. "You took my kingdom, my birthright. Took my soul and ripped it apart."*

*The light of insanity in his dark eyes gleamed brighter than the knife he'd just extracted from the folds of his robes. "I didn't take anything you weren't willing to give."*

*"Then doesn't that make it more of value?" she appealed, backing away from him, scattering the crisp leaves under her body. "That wench could never give you what I did. She could never do what I did—"*

*"And that is exactly why I loved her!" Cadmus's voice rang out in the forest, filled to the brim with fury. At the mention of the last word, however, he expressed nothing but despair. "That is exactly why I chose her."*

*Lysandra tried to smile, even with the pain in her chest. "Then you have chosen wrong. She's not me, and she will never be me. I made you the man you are now and you owe it all to me. I made you. In every single thing you do, I am there and I will always be—"*

SLAP.

*He delivered another blow to her, this one harder than the last. Her head turned abruptly to the side, to the direction of his swinging palm. The coppery taste of blood invaded her mouth. Her vision was blurry now. For some reason, that last hit seemed to have resonated around her body, to the bruises left there by their encounter the night before.*

Pain is love, *was what her father used to say.* When people hurt you, that's because they love you.

*He'd expressed that well enough when he was still alive. Every punishment for her misbehavior, he'd insisted were for her betterment.*

*She'd grown to resent it over time and looked for a husband who would be gentle, but instead she got someone who would beat her so bad she'd be in bed for days. She got someone who would leave in travels for many months and come back with no explanation. She got someone who knew just how to hurt her.*

*Pain was the only love she'd ever known. Surely this was just another version of it. Surely she could still make something beautiful out of this.*

*Lysandra tried to believe that now, as she looked up at Cadmus. Tears were streaking down his cheeks, and it tore her open.*

*"Just end it," she whispered, reaching towards him when he sank to his knees in misery. "I am tired of this too. I have done everything I can. I cannot take any more."*

*For a brief second, Cadmus seemed to consider it. He stared at her in what looked like wonder, his eyes wide and almost innocent. There still was that hint of insanity, but she was so miserable that she was willing to look past it.*

*But he wasn't willing to let her.*

*"I won't make it this easy," he said, in a tone so casual it was as though was talking to a servant. "You have to know that I don't love you."*

*Lysandra withdrew her hand. Even though she'd seen this coming, it still stole her breath. "Then kill me now—"*

*"When I touch you I feel disgusted with myself." He slowly advanced towards her, gripping the hilt of the knife so hard that his knuckles were white. "When I look at you I am reminded of every bad choice I made, of every punishment you deserve."*

*Her throat was tight. "It's only because we've been together for years and you want a child that I cannot give. It's only because you chose to look for a replacement when I'm still here—"*

*"No, no, no." He shook his head, an unhinged smile spreading on his lips. "I never loved you, Lysandra. And I never will. Nobody ever will."*

*With that, Cadmus raised the knife and plunged it right through her chest, into her heart.*

*It was still pounding, like it thought that if it beat hard enough, it might undo the damage. But the damage had been done.*

*Lysandra gasped, her body growing cold as it began to grow slack against the layer of leaves coating the soil. She laid back, her hands desperately stemming the flow of blood from her chest. Her eyes stayed fixed on Cadmus, who slowly got to his feet.*

*He looked at her for a couple of seconds while blood continued to pool around her. Her breath was now ragged, spaced too far from each other.*

*Once again, she called for the gods. This time, she repented, begged, as her husband began to walk away from her.*

*Then, there was darkness. Lysandra was dead.*

*Killed by the man she'd trusted and loved.*

*At least for that time being, she was dead. She'd wake up eventually, meet the two gods, and later on be given a task, a new identity. Later on she'd become Lucia, which stood for light, as a contrasting symbol for the last thing she'd seen before she got taken out of life. Lucia became Lucienne, and Lucienne became Lucille.*

*And Lucille was every woman her past self wasn't—unapologetic, brave, and perfectly aware of her self worth.*

*She'd become the witch, the punisher, tasked to bring justice to the people who had gone through the same heartbreak as she had.*

*But because of the same man, Lucille had become Lysandra again. A fool.*

*Now she must find her way back. She must—*

"Breathe," Keiran's voice pierced through her consciousness. "Dimitri, she's not breathing!"

"I told you this was a bad idea!" came Dimitri's panicked voice. After that there was a lot of scrambling. He began yelling, "Don't you dare—let me do it, for fuck's sake!"

She felt hands pushing against her middle. Then, those same hands were suddenly on her head, pushing back the blindfold before settling on her nose and chin. She immediately realized what was about to happen, but by then she could already feel someone's breath on her lips and locks of hair on her cheek.

Oh, no. No mouth to mouth, please. No.

Lucille opened her eyes in shock, ready to scream just to prove she was alive. But she was stopped short when she saw Keiran's face super, super close.

And just then he pressed his mouth on hers.