Twenty-seven: A touch of life

Outside world

Claus' pov

The witch was dead. I killed her. Her body went limp yet I still held her throat. All the hatred and anguish wrapped into one powerful hand. The same hand that took her life. I couldn't feel the magic around, it must've died with her.

I blinked several times and only then did I realized I was crying. Once, twice, they fell slowly then gradually it just came pouring out. Emma's face was pale and blank. Totally dead. Dead. I could almost hear her voice in my head screaming murderer.

I dropped her body and sat back. Why don't I feel happy? Content? Or even relieved? Why of all am I feeling guilty?

"She deserved it. For everything she's done!" I yelled at no one.

The room was quiet. Nothing stirred. Perhaps that was for the best. I did not think I could handle anything at the moment.