Reminiscence

A short, slightly dark, and emotionally charged story. Read it in one sitting. 473 words.

“Gold,” she whispered, “is the color of magic.”

            Kaiya leaned back against the tree’s trunk, relishing the breeze as it played across her skin. She savored the sound of the lake’s waves lapping against the shore, breathing in the peace of this tiny haven. The bark was rough through the thin material of her silken dress, but she didn’t care. Nothing was going to keep her from this place.

She had to face these memories.

“White,” she continued, staring upwards at the sky, “the color of sand.” Her body trembled at the memory--the feeling of the sand beneath her that day when Corr had first touched his lips to hers.

“Blue is the most dangerous fire.” He had said those words in the dark, lifting his hand as the azure flames had danced around his fingers. She could see the light as it flickered off his face—the playful glint in his eyes that had always made him so alive.

She let out a deep breath.

“Red,” she paused, digging her fingers into the bark as a burning tear escaped from the corner of her eye. She swallowed, “the color of blood.”

            “Black...” her voice caught and she closed her eyes, “it is the color of metal and steal, of cold chains, and of dungeons. It is the color of death.”

She could still see him that day. She still felt the way his gaze had fallen on her in that moment, his eyes—those beautiful, gold-hued eyes—had reflected the pain that wracked his body as he had collapsed before his captors.

            “Death is the payment for using magic,” the King had said, standing proudly before his audience as they watched. He looked to where Corr kneeled; his arms tied above his head, his body bruised and beaten. “Let this be an example to you.”

            Then they had cut his arms. Their razor blades flashing as three deep slices were opened on each of his wrists.

            She had felt his pain as if it were her very own. Her entire body trembled, her very soul clenched up within her, as if life itself was being wrung from her heart. The firm, unyielding touch of her mother’s hand on her shoulder had been like a chain—forcing her to stand there, watching through tear-blurred vision as the life bled out of him.

            She should have fought free, should have shoved past the guards, should have pushed the king aside, should have held him in her arms, should have...

            Kaiya screamed. She screamed until she cried, sinking to her knees on the sandy beach, gasping for air that didn’t satisfy the ache in her chest. It was an untouchable pain, deep and undiminishing.

            She had let him die that day.

            Kaiya Hastlier, the daughter of the king, had been powerless to save him.

© Copyright Charity K, 2013