Live To Die Everyday (2)

He needed his thoughts, his senses for something else, for someone else. Closing his eyes, he strained his ears to listen for the heartbeats across the field, too many, too vague. So instead, he looked for a scent he was familiar with, a scent of roses that always filled his head whenever he was near her, overpowering all the other scents. A scent that always managed to spread a huge smile on his face for the few ten years.

Today, it did no such thing.

Moments later that felt like hours testing his urges and his restraint over them, trying to find the needle among the heap of haystacks that tried to divert his attention elsewhere, he found her.

He ran towards her scent, to be by her side, hoping he wasn't too late. He attempted to listen in on her heartbeat, some release of breath, anything that helped him confirm she was alive and well. But no such sign came through.

His distraught mind tried to reason that it was probably the distance, or maybe there was just too much distraction. Yes, that had to be it. Anything that helped him not to accept the bitter, hard truth.

He kept following the trail through hundreds of dead bodies, visions of fellow hemarins feeding like Seline blurred past him – some by themselves, some in group – until the moment he finally saw it, a destroyed mecha bearing her colours - Yellow and blue. The proud and bright colour of the house Shenron.

Few paces ahead and he still couldn't sense any sign of life from her. It's the hunger, it's dulling my senses. That has to be it.

Yet he knew that reasoning was nothing more than a lie.

A lie to keep some semblance of hope within him that said he wasn't too late.

Still, a lie that made his legs seem heavier with each step he took, heavier than the giant machines that lay around him, such that when he was near her, his legs seemed to be as heavy as the ground itself.

For all their reputation about quick and graceful movements, he felt like a babe few months old trying to walk for the first time as he made his way towards her.

He fell as a babe too once he reached her, shattering his lie in a million pieces.

A woman with sun kissed hair and ocean in her eyes, laid down on a seat placed within the chest of a giant machine that was now fallen with gashes, dents and pieces strewn about.

Ariel Shenron, commander of Mechas, Queen of Anwar, a woman with light radiating from her, spreading hopes and smiles on the faces of those around her; now laid lifeless, cold and half of her body covered in burns.

This wasn't his first loss, and if his life as a 1000 year old hemarin was any proof, it certainly wouldn't be his last.

Yet –

Yet he still couldn't help but feel the void inside him increasing again. Words betrayed him as his fingers started drifting towards a gem on Ariel's head, her soul-gem.

Contrary to her lifeless body, the gem still shone bright with a green hue to it, as did all the gems for a few hours after someone's death.

The void within him screamed for him to cut his skin, let his blood dribble down on her gem and make her who he was, a Hemarin, a Vampire.

A monster.

And he almost did.

Oh, so easy would it be to be rid of this pain, this void, this loss. All it would take is a few drops for him to give her, few drops for her to take in, few drops to corrupt her soul gem, turning it from the warm green to deep black, a storm of red blood swirling inside it. A few drops and she would be back on her feet, stronger, sharper, and quicker.

A being of power.

A being she despised.

How would she feel to be the thing that she and her men fought, that she and her men died fighting against?

"I'm sorry, Ariel." He spoke with a hoarse throat, yearning to drink the blood pooled around her body, its scent so intoxicating that made it harder to control his urges. It seemed to whisper to him, inviting him to take it all in, suck it out and let it be inside him.

Yet he didn't, stopped by his memories, memories of playing around as they laughed, of training under the moon's red shine, of arguing over the silliest of reasons, of kissing to show their love. "I wish this hadn't happened, wish you were still here alive... but then again, my wishes always seem to be turned down by destiny."

He could almost hear her response, there is no such thing as destiny. Everyone creates their own lives, shapes them as according to their will, she always said that whenever he felt lost or out of control.

He tore his eyes away from her and looked around him, gazed at the death and destruction, contemplated and his people had started a feast for themselves.

All Ariel wanted was peace between her kind and his kind.

And she had almost succeeded at it – managing to convince her people that her cause was true and that her plans were possible, she had even managed to convince many of his kind.

She always managed to do that very easily. Like it was some sort of innate ability that the gods had bestowed upon her.

Yet those abilities proved to be inadequate. All her efforts went down the drain when rogue humans burned down a village of his kind. Cowards did it during the day when we can't come out, when we are sleeping.

From there, not even Ariel's sweet words and promises could've helped calm his kind down. Attacks started happening from both sides until there was no other option other than a war to end it once and for all.

With assurance he gave his word to her that he'd try to stop the war from escalating, yet he failed; With hope he gave his word to her that there'd be as little bloodshed as possible, and anyone looking around at the field in scarlet light would agree that he failed; With love he gave his word, not to anyone but himself, that he'd protect her at least. Save her.

She'd hate him or even seek revenge on him for his betrayal but she'd still be living.

And yet he failed again.

Even when the war was over, a victory on their side, he still felt that void, growing larger as he stared at the lifeless sight of her. He blamed himself, the war, the living who started it and the undead who kept it going.

Despite that, he didn't regret the war. No, they deserved it.

His hate for the living was no less than their hate for his kind. Humans never saw them as anything other than monsters, and it had become apparent that they never would. Even people like Ariel who thought of peace and change held a fear for them, a look of disgust at the thought of his kind.

Even still, you loved her and she loved you. A love that made him see the living beyond his hatred, love that brought Ariel towards the decision of peace between the living and hemarins, love that he betrayed when he stood against her for the future of his kind, for the justice of fallen hemarin.

And what do I get out of it? Suffering and an eternity of loneliness? He was tired. Tired of everything and everyone. He hated to be on the edge of both sides. He hated for what he had become. If only he could end it all. If only I could…

A realisation hit him and he frantically searched the destroyed cockpit of his dead lover. His lips held a fear filled grin to it and his darkened eye seemed to illuminate once he found the dagger with a blade of emerald. A weapon carried by every mecha that had killed several of his kind for generations.

He could end it all. With this weapon, he could end his suffering.

An emerald blade piercing his darkened and corrupted soul-gem resting on his forehead and it would be over in a moment.

He had lived a 1000 years, bearing every kind of pain, living through it, sometimes even causing it by himself, and he had no will to live another 1000 like that.

With determination, he picked the dagger up and turned its blade towards his darkened gem. Just holding the hilt burnt his hands but he kept his grip on it steady.

Images passed by in his mind. Memories of his childhood playing in the fields, learning how to carve wood. They soon were replaced with the memories of his adulthood, his time with his wife, the birth of his son, the smiles he shared with them and their bodies laid in front of him, bloodied and beyond recognition; the drunk mecha, the cause of their deaths, in his suit surging with power; his life through long years - feeding, killing, loving. Even before his death he had lost many.

A list that seemed to become endless since his own.

Yet when faced by the emerald blade just inches away from his gem, he couldn't help but shiver, lose focus, even let out a stream of scarlet tears run away from his eyes marking his pale cheeks with red lines.

Raoul did not hesitate from his determination, or even a will, to live but because of his cowardice to die. Even after multiple losses, there was one thing he could never get over.

His own death.

A moment, even under extreme circumstances, he did not wish to experience again.

Dropping the blade, Raoul looked up towards the moon with blood streaked tears and a howl filled with pain.

In the end, he didn't know if it was destiny or his will that shaped his life. All he knew was that it was shaped to let him live, just to die every day.