Okay, first off, I suck. I'm super sorry, but I just had to take a break for a while. I'm going to try my best to finish this book, but I really can't make any promises, so don't expect a regular schedule or anything.

Second, this gets a little disturbing really quickly I guess? Just be careful, and if corpses, the concept of death, and self-harm aren't something you're comfortable with, please read with caution. 

~•~

I stood alone, the swell of music and cheering hitting a crescendo from a distant room, a place I could never join without that nauseating guilt worming its way into my stomach. Sweat gathered on the back of my neck, the heat beating down on me even through the still, stuffy air atmosphere as if knowing what I was doing and laughing at how gullible I had become. How dependent. How stupid. 

The rotten stench of death filled the room, as thick and pervasive as it always was, but by now, I had learned to ignore it. The metal of the tools I worked with burned my fingers even through the gloves I wore, but that too I had managed to become accustomed to. All of this would be worth it if I could just figure it out, but that seemed more and more like an impossible task with every passing second that flew by, announced with the ungentle ticking of the old clock in the corner. Every part of me wanted to hurl something at it, feel the amazing, uplifting satisfaction of watching something break beyond repair underneath my hands. Wouldn't that be wonderful? Didn't that make me even more sick with myself than I already was?

The bird underneath my fingers was dead.

There was no other way to put it. Dead, dead, dead, and even the maggots and flies trying to pervade her corpse seemed to agree. As I worked at her lifeless body, I started to question myself. My sanity. My own fucking morality. Did I even have that at this point, or did that all wash down the drain the first time I had Changed into that Divinity-damned dragon?

Amica chirped from his spot on my shoulder, watching the whole thing warily. Belletra had fled, unable to even stick around. The dried blood on my hands should have made me stop sooner, but something gripped me, convinced me to keep working. Perhaps it was the concept of death, the irreversible suddenness of a fate nobody wants, even when they think they do.

Or maybe it was the sinking sickness of failure tasting like bile in my throat.

As I stared down at the tiny, helpless creature, flipping through books and etching unintelligible things down on paper, I couldn't help but get the sense that I was staring down not at a bird, but at a girl.

A girl I had killed. 

I shook my head, dispelling the thoughts of her  from my mind. I would make this better, I would make it right. I'm going to save Eliza, no matter what it takes. I'll bring her back, even if it means that I have to go in return. I'd do it without thinking twice, without pausing for even a moment. For him. 

And maybe Alexander will love me again.

"Thomas?"

I jumped at the sudden nearness of the voice, so caught up in my work that I hadn't heard him enter. "W-what do you want?" I demanded, setting down the tiny scalpel; I had already managed to cut myself with it on accident. Amica chirped a few words of encouragement and took to the sky, retreating out the open door spilling harsh, yellow light into the dark room. 

"I was just making sure you were alright," the King replied as I peeled off the gloves, his concern failing to hide the tight, victorious smirk that I could find when I looked hard enough. He set his hand on my back, too careful, too gentle, too warm. Not friendly enough, something more, something I hated with every fiber of my being. I wanted to wrench his arm out of its socket, break it under my fingers, hurt him as he hurt me a thousand times before. 

"I'm fine," I said, offering him a smile. I shifted away from his touch, and his hand dropped to his side like it should. "No need to worry about me."

"Why don't you come celebrate with us? It is your plan, after all."

It took me a moment to understand what he was talking about. Right. My plan. Stars above, if he could see me as I really was, would he still be inviting me to dance with him? Sure, he didn't say it. But I knew him. I knew what he wanted, and I also knew he wouldn't stop until he got it. In a way, it hurt. To watch him put so much faith and trust in me, only for me to snatch everything he wanted away from him at the last moment. It hurt to be his downfall, it hurt to be the reason he would lose and die. And maybe, one day, I'd be the one staring at his corpse, wondering if I could bring him back to life. Wouldn't that be ironic? 

But maybe that's because every time I looked at him, I wished he was Alexander, and so every thought and hesitance within me was simply because I couldn't bear to see Alexander look at me that way, but he already had, and one day, he would do it again.

I should have let the poison kill me what seemed like a thousand years ago.

"It's better if I don't," I said finally, realizing he was waiting on an answer. "After all, it's not like your generals truly enjoy me being there." Not after what I've done. Not after they discovered the extent of my usefulness. They always saw me as a monster, but never before as a weapon. Now, I got to be both. 

George was about to speak, but his eyes landed on the subject of interest sitting in front of me. "Ah. I should have known you would find interest in this sooner or later. Any luck?"

I hated to admit to him that at every turn, I failed. Even after every spell I tried, every potion I brewed, every chemical solution I turned to when magic proved useless and science became my only option. They only led me further and further down a shadowed path in an endless swath of imposing trees. 

But in the end, I couldn't hide anything more from him than I already was, and I shook my head in resigned defeat.

The bird sat there, lifeless, a shadow of what it had once been. The successes of my experiments were lined up on the shelves, their green tendrils oozing out of the pots, but they were all plants. And plants were very different from sentient beings with thoughts and feelings and emotions and desires. 

And a bird is nothing compared to a person.

How the fuck am I going to save Eliza when I cannot save a stupid fucking bird?

I'm selfish. A mistake. A monster.

And every part of me hopes that when I do save Eliza, I'll die. So I don't have to face the look in her eyes when she realizes what I've done. So I don't have to watch Alexander grab her by the arm and pull her away, forgetting all about me as he should have done the instant he stepped foot into Periterra. I couldn't bear to watch him forget me while alive, but maybe death will soften the blow a little.

Selfish.

Mistake. 

Monster.

All three words I would eagerly embrace, as they were right, and there was truly no point in pretending otherwise. 

"Thomas." Once again, his words broke into my thoughts. "Let go of the scalpel. You're bleeding." He said it so calmly it was infuriating, so peacefully I wanted to kill him. When I didn't drop the small, metal tool, George lifted my arm and carefully pried it from my fingers. "Thomas," he said softly, running his hand down my own. "Whatever you're doing in here isn't worth it." He shook his head, trying to lead me away from the table, but I stayed where I stood.

"How did you do it?"

"It's not worth your time."

"How did you do it?"

"Really. It's going to eat you up in the end." He caressed the soft figure of the bird. "I know what you must be going through, but there's nothing you can do to save it. Death is a natural part of life. To deny this creature its destiny is—"

"Dammit, George!" I screamed, banging my left fist against the metal table and delighting in the pain that rushed up to answer me. "I'm not here for a fucking moral lesson, just fucking tell me how you did it!"

"I didn't."

It felt as though the breath left my lungs.

His next two words sliced through my stomach. "You did."

Finally, I gathered myself together enough to force myself to speak. "Wh-what do you mean? How could I resurrect myself?"

"Through the world that you created just before you died."

Peggy had told me about that, a few days ago. She had appeared in my temporary bedroom, or rather, Maria had, and told me everything before disappearing once more and leaving me trapped. I'm not sure if she was taunting me or if she didn't realize how much I longed to leave this place. But there was so much left I didn't understand, so many holes to fill that were just too deep. 

"I don't understand," I said, that familiar urge creeping up in the back of my throat. To scream. To cry. To rip out my heart and set it on the table, still beating, still alive, still coursing with what was supposed to be keeping me together.

"I," he began, slow, careful, unsure. "I couldn't bring you back when I didn't have your energy to go off of. So I had to use the one thing you endowed with all of your life force before...well, you know." He had no right to talk about it with so much caution. Even if it was my own fault I had died, he was still the one who swung the blade. He didn't get to feel bad now. "Without that world you created, you wouldn't be standing in front of me now. And unless that bird created some dimension we're unaware of, it cannot be brought back to life."

A long, unsettling pause.

"So you're essentially saying there's nothing left I can do."

"Yes. I'm sorry, Thomas. But some things are just better off dead."

"Like me." A large, warm tear rolled down the side of my cheek before I could stop it. It burned. 

George reached up to wipe it away with his thumb. I didn't think, I didn't consider, I acted on pure, violent instinct. My hand lashed out seemingly on its own and the sharp, curled claws etched four lines of crimson blood down the side of his face. He yelped in pain, reeling away from me. The King's eyes met mine and held my gaze for a long moment, wide with fear, with panic, with surprise. And then, he stepped away.

"I—" I started, searching for all sorts of things to say and coming up with nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"Save it," he snapped, pulling his fingers away from his cheek, revealing the welled up pools of blood staining the soft skin of his face. His breathing grew deeper, marked by the inevitable burst of anger. "You really are a monster, aren't you?"

I blinked, biting down on my tongue to stop myself from responding. I didn't trust myself enough to speak without falling apart. 

He stared at me for a long moment, as though daring me to speak, then turned on his heel and strode from the room, leaving only emptiness in his wake. I stood there, watching his retreat. Watching the loneliness fill the room once more. I turned back to the bird sitting still, and even though I hadn't expected it to move or breathe, an insurmountable wave of disappointment filled my chest, threatening to push my under and drown me, choke all the life from my body. And I had no doubts that I would have let it done so if it could.

I fell against the heavy metal table, fingers on fire from the mere touch but refusing to move them. Little droplets of water fell against the surface as my throat burned with anger, burned with frustration. I allowed myself five or so seconds to give in to the misery before slapping myself with outstretched claws and forcing myself to continue my work.

No matter how pointless it might have been. 

Chemicals spilled onto my hands as I worked, pouring everything I had into the tiny bird, and ending up with nothing to show for my efforts. Her soul was like glass, fragile and next to impossible to repair to the state it had once been. But I worked anyway, watching hours fly by until I glanced outside at the clock in the corner. 

3:12 a.m.

When was the last time I had actually slept? When was the last time I had eaten anything? I growled, pulling at my hair, hitting myself over and over to keep myself awake. I found myself exposing my bare flesh to the metal table multiple times, if only for the satisfaction that pain brought me. 

Eventually, I collapsed onto the ground, staring up at the bare, plaster ceiling. Where was the sky? Where was its vast endlessness to remind me everything was okay? I felt trapped in this room, this terrible, dark, silent room. My wings ached to free themselves, but there was nowhere to go. Not until I got this right.

Not until the war was over.

My stomach dropped as the sudden anxiety attacked me, tightening its tendrils around my chest. In less than a few hours, fifteen million years worth of fighting would come to a screeching halt. And no matter what side I fought for, I would always be seen as traitor and a monster. And what good would it do to prove otherwise?

At this point, the only thing left to fight for was Alexander and his happiness. I think, if I just got to see him smile one more time, then maybe everything would be worth it.

I heaved a sigh and walked across the room, if only to stretch my legs. A vase of flowers lay waiting for me just under the pitiful excuse of a window. I looked through it, but there was no sky to be seen. Just the angry, gray rock of the mountainside. Was this part of my punishment? Separated from the only thing that kept me sane at this point? Because if so, then the King was far more devious than I gave him credit for.

I picked a flower from its stem, turning it over in my hands to admire one of the only traces of beauty in this miserable place. A success from one of my previous experiments. An idea hit me, and I glanced over at the bird waiting on the table. I sighed, running my fingers through my unkempt, tangled hair, and brought the flower back with me. Its light blue petals seemed to shine through the darkness.

The symbol of the Rebellion.

Fide.

Fide flowers represent loyalty, bravery, and virtue.

That's what I had told Alexander, huh? That impossibly short time ago?

Loyalty, bravery, and virtue. Three things which I lacked. 

I set the flower against the table and looked down at the dead body of the bird, her black eyes lifeless. This was one of the creatures I was supposed to protect, and here she was. The only thing I prayed for now was that this last effort would work. And if it didn't, I had no idea what I would do with myself.

Do to myself. 

I closed my eyes, leaning over the table, and started the spell. Whispers I was hardly aware of got lost in the air, speaking words that no longer had meaning. I poured everything I had into the flower, slowly feeling the essence of my life bleating by. My hands began to shake, and my legs threatened to give way underneath me, but still I urged myself onward. I couldn't afford to stop. Energy escaped my fingers, flowing into the innocent petals of the beautiful plant. It seemed to absorb everything I had, eagerly taking everything I could give it, and still demanding more. 

A distant ringing filled my ears, an unrelenting pain pounded through my head. I gripped the edges of the table tighter as I gave myself up the flower, to the creature in front of me.

And finally, there was nothing left to give.

The ground rose to claim me, and I laid there, panting to catch my breath. Death loomed close, and I swore I could see it standing in the shadowed corners of the room. Would it hurt as much as it had last time, or even more? Would anybody know what happened to me? Would I end up in the exact same place I had left, or had my soul become too tainted for such a peaceful, happy realm? Maybe I belonged to an eternity less forgiving, a place filled with pain and misery and endless suffering.

But the pain in my head eventually subsided, though it still hurt to breathe, it still hurt to move. I laid there for what felt like hours before I finally found the strength to force myself to my feet. Wiping the blood away from the corner of my mouth, I let my fingers touch the flower, warmed by the familiar life force running through its petals.

I pried open the beak of the bird and set the flower inside, sending up a last prayer to the stars that somehow, this would work. Of course, they were silent, just as they had been since the Tenebrie inside of me took over.

I sat down on the edge of the firm couch, watching the table. Even if I wanted to sleep, I doubt I could force myself, and it wasn't just due to the dragon's nocturnal senses plaguing me at every turn. 

But my efforts, in the end, were not in vain.

And even though it had almost cost me my life, I couldn't begin to explain the feelings of utter relief and joy that thrummed through me when the bird, shakily rose to her feet, absolutely fine and untouched by the cold, clammy hands of death. I almost cried, stepping over to the window to open it. And the bird chirped at me, unaware of everything that had just happened. She took off into the darkened sky, never once looking back behind her.

And how I wished I had been that bird.