Sevastyan's Grave March 2029

Sadness and sorrow guided. Pain and loneliness nourished her, kept her going. Every step was one step further away from home, and one step closer to death. But whether it be a death that would lead to an eternity of agony and flames, or an unlikely, possibility of the heavenly afterlife often proclaimed in literature, Viper knew not. All she knew was that in her mind, there was no other choice for her aside from leaving the children.

For what now seemed like a lifetime, Viper had felt that there was no other option than to leave her children, in hopes that they may have a better life. The first time, she had left her children before to wallow in her own self-pity. This time, she left so they would have a higher chance at survival. The motives behind each abandonment were strikingly different, but nonetheless, it meant nothing to Viper, for her thoughts focused on those she left behind: Her children and her husband. Particularly the latter.

She was a bad wife and a bad mother. There was no denying that. However, by doing what she had, in a way, she could coerce her mind into believing that by doing so, all of her sins, all she’s ever done would be forgiven. Despite the odds and disbelief, she still forced herself to believe that someday her children would understand and forgive her. She had to believe it, for it was the only thing that kept her going.

The witch inhaled sharply as emerald orbs met her destination: her husband’s gravestone. At least, what she deemed to be her husband’s grave. Considering they had barely reconnected and were on the skirts of reconciliation, it was rather difficult to say what there relationship was, as they had been informally separated. She wasn’t even sure if she could still call herself a widow. However, for once, titles were of no significance to her, for regardless of what she stood as, her feelings would never change. She’d still feel as though the pieces of her heart were buried with he who held, and holds it, forever.

“Damn you!” she half breathed, half sobbed out as she stood in front of the gravestone, arms folded across her chest. Not quite the most romantic of statements, but one of the various thoughts and emotions raging in her mind at this moment.

Crying and letting out her emotions was not a luxury Viper had granted herself the past few months since Sevastyan’s death, aside from the many nights when the last of her self-control had slipped away and she could do nothing but cry until sleep claimed her. She had her children to think of, after all. She had to stand strong and wipe away their tears, not the other way around. Naturally as a result, much of her emotions: anguish, fear, pain, and regret were ignored, left to bottle up.

“You knew I was sick. You knew I only have a few good years, at the most. You should have just left the purgers to me…” she whispered tearfully, her mind conjuring memories of Lynn’s birthday, when Sevastyan had pushed their child into her arms. She wanted to rush out there to meet the Purgers head on, but Sevastyan had left her with little choice. He’d shepherded them all away before she could react properly, and by that, she had three terrified children screaming and crying to take care of.

“I wasn’t, and am not, fit to be a Mother to those children, Sevastyan. Let alone a single one…” she wept as she dropped to her knees in front of the gravestone, tears cascading down her face. “I’m not like you, Sevastyan. I’m not Super Mum, like you were Super Dad. I-I’m not enough…”

She sniffed, breathing in shakily, feeling as though the grief she had kept deep down had been released from his cage, and was now consuming her whole. “I know I have no right. After all that I’ve done, all that that I failed to do. All those broken vows…” a cry of pain and frustration escaped her. “Answer me!!” she sobbed, desperately wanting at least a sign that he could hear her. A whisper, a bit of wind, anything… Anything that would show that he could hear her, and that her cries and pleas weren’t falling to be nothing more than a useless wish.

No such response came, of course.

“After all,” she thought. “Why would there be, cretin? He probably loathes you. To him, you’re no more than a coward and a liar!” her mind screamed.

Slowly, Viper nodded, tears continuing to cascade down her face. “I am a coward. And I am a liar…” she uttered softly, in a voice barely above a whisper. It was a confession, both to herself and to Sevastyan.

She pressed her forehead against the cold gravestone, tears escaping her eyes, trailing down the structure. “I don’t know how to be a Mother, Sevastyan. I can’t do it alone.” She closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face faster than ever. “So, I-I’m doing the only thing I can do, what I know how to do all too well.” A rip of metal cadenced from her side, accompanying her weeping, creating a melody of war-torn grief, revealing a symbol of Viper’s life and her last task before death: a small dagger.

“Forgive me, Sevastyan, for condemning out children to live as orphans, but seeking revenge and eliminating our enemies is all I know and have the courage to do…” Cold lips pressed down on the gravestone, as Viper’s hand gently rested against the stone, sliding slowly down the structure until it met the ground once more. “I love you.” She whispered desperately in anguish, before quickly pulling away, for she knew that if she lingered any longer, she would be more likely to forgo her plan and bury herself next to Sevastyan instead.

Through her blurred, tear-filled eyes, she flew. Faster and faster she fled, nothing but grief and agony following her, bracing herself for all the blood-red dawns she would meet alone, before she breathed her last.