Madrid

3,868 years since initial death
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Smoke clouds dotted the gloomy skies.

Fires were spreading as more bodies were burnt at the stakes. No matter where you looked, only torment and suffering was visible as civilians doomed themselves. Mass turmoil overtook the once welcoming Spaniard community that offered the Immortal a home he could feel comfortable in. 

He's seen what people were capable of. Throughout every bloody battle he's experienced, he's witnessed just how cruel and unforgiving some humans could be. But to see it occur within seemingly innocent kingdoms during a time of peace came as a surprise. He can't recognize this city anymore.

The look Violet gave made him think she felt the same way. However, her gaze was slightly different. She's gotten over it fairly quickly. There was a sense of shock at first, but she's become far more confident in her abilities. No one acts this way, not unless they've seen it before. 

Whether she's immortal or not, she must have experienced something similar. There's no telling what she lived through in her past, nor can he even guess where she came from. There was no land west of Portugal, nor were there any known shipwrecks carrying slaves or remote tribesmen. The only possible location he could think of was Asia. It's the only land you could potentially find if you cross the ocean from Portugal. 

At least, that's what he assumes. The ocean is far too grand to cross. If she had truly come from Asia, she would have walked here, not drifted across the endless waves. 

For now, he focused back on the task at hand. Violet helped him up as they climbed atop another structure. Fortunately, the buildings in Madrid were built so close to one another. There were still so many gaps that needed to be leapt across, but it certainly wasn't impossible.

Violet was right when she claimed she's agile. Somehow, even throughout all these years, Milton found himself slower than her. But that might just be because of his previous injury. It hasn't healed fully yet. Normally it would take months, maybe even a year to rid of a wound like that; but his curse often proved to be a blessing during certain times. 

However, that's not to say he shrugged off the pain entirely. He continued to limp speedily to the best of his abilities. Most of his jumps were possible because Violet caught him or gave him the boost he needed. Needless to say, he couldn't have made it this far without her help. 

Eventually, they neared the final layer of defense that blocked their escape. The Christian Walls lay ahead, serving as the largest barrier that was supposed to protect this great kingdom. Such grand and magnificent handiwork, but now it only served to keep the herd trapped inside with the butchers. 

The front gates were hoarded with countless desperate people. Multiple guards lined the only exit. It was no use begging, nobody could escape. What was truly ironic was the fact they were being denied outdoors due to their safety. 

Now that Milton could finally see freedom ahead, he stopped. The path ahead contained no more rooftops. It was too big of a gap to cross to reach the wall. Getting down safely was also out of the question. 

He needed time to think. His wife on the other hand was making it difficult, as she turned towards him and gave him a nervous look. "Milton, we need to talk."

"We cross the wall, and then we talk." His answer was straightforward. Although there were so many things he'd like to ask her, now wasn't the time for it.

Violet seemed to disagree. "I won't risk having one or both of us die trying to cross this gap, not before I tell you what's plaguing my mind."

That caught his attention. He finally looked at her with his brows burrowed, his eyes burning directly into hers. 

After a few short seconds of silence, Violet spoke up. "If we manage to escape together, then I'm afraid we'll then be going our separate ways permanently." 

His vision darted upwards, as he looked about in confusion. "Whatever do you mean?"

"It means I want a divortium, Milton." Hearing about a divorce was the last thing he expected at this particular moment. "I don't feel safe around you, and I fear I never will." 

"Violet, what in God's name are you saying? I'm placing our lives at risk to escape and live our dreams together! Why would you even consider this?"

She didn't hesitate. "You killed those people outside our home. You ripped them all to shreds. I heard the screams, and I saw the carnage even when you told me not to. You've clearly done it before, so I don't see how it's fair for you to mock my secrets when you possess several of your own."

"I'm not the one who washed up ashore naked and afraid of my surroundings. I've told you almost everything you needed to know about me, yet you've left me in the dark since day one. Besides, need I remind you of that man's neck you mangled?"

"Do you not realize what you just said? You only tell me what I needed to know, yet you leave me in the dark when it comes to your bloodlust." Violet irritated him further.

He couldn't figure out what else to say. Maybe he could reveal his immortality to her now? If she was like him, she'd understand. But if not, it will only lead to a longer argument. He thought it over, but his lips refused to cooperate. 

"Violet, I believe we're alike." His voice finally slipped through. "We both carry secrets we're afraid of revealing, and we both have complicated origins we only wish to burn away."

She tried to look away, obviously in an attempt to hide her fear. "The horrors I experienced because of my secrets will haunt you day and night for the rest of your life. You will never comprehend the truth no matter how I say it."

"Try me." 

His eyes never left her. He crossed his arms above the fabric tied around his waist. He nearly forgot about his stab wound. 

"Milton, I can't. Please, just grant my wish and should we survive this ordeal, we make haste to the nearest church and walk our separate ways." 

He sighed. "No, no! Enough of that talk! I will not humor this idea of yours any longer. I don't wish to speak another word of this, I need to find us a way out of here, and this is not helping in the slightest."

A loud thud interrupted him. It was the crossbow being tossed over to him and landing by his feet. Violet turned her back and crossed her arms. 

Before he could react, she spoke. "You don't realize how much it hurts to have to do this. You can't imagine how much I love you, and it's because of it that I wish to leave you behind. Alas, I don't expect you to ever understand it. Besides, I'm sure you've always favored Rio over me anyways."

"You leave him out of this!" Milton's voice rose. He's not one to tolerate any disrespect thrown towards his trusty companion.

"Look at you." She struggled to let out a single chuckle. "You treat it like a person, yet it's only a stick. A stick that God only knows how many people have been stabbed, bashed with or both."

Milton picked up the crossbow by his feet, inspecting it to ensure it was still loaded correctly. Then, he glared at her. "I guess that's just something I don't expect you to understand either." 

He turned and walked towards the edge. Staring at the Christian Walls, he scanned its layer until he saw his ticket towards freedom. The front gates had two tall watchtowers, and they were close to him. It was still far too long of a distance to clear by foot, but he had another means of transport that could aid him.

Looking back down at his crossbow, he laid a hand over the metallic piece he had readied into it. He rubbed its smooth texture, and he could barely make out his blurry reflection. A smile appeared on his face. He turned his head to his side, seeing no one stand beside him. 

He's done this before a few hundred years ago when facing the Byzantines. It worked as the perfect escape route, and it can help him again all these years later. 

"If your tears have ceased, then come stand behind me." He called out to her while continuing to look ahead. "We're making it out of here, together."

Calculating the distance between them and the closest watchtower seemed far, but it could just work. Violet approached him, asking what he was planning. Rather than answering her, he lifted his crossbow and aimed above the tower. 

"Watch and learn." He fired the weapon. A metallic hook launched from the crossbow, followed by a trail of sturdy rope that uncoiled itself the longer it flew in the air. This was a grappling hook, first invented by the Roman Empire to aid scouts in scaling walls as quickly as possible. But he won't be using it in that intended manner. He had a different idea in mind. 

They both watched the hook approach its target, when it struck the side of the tower and plummeted to the ground. It clattered against the cobble paths, and a few guards suddenly turned their heads to follow the line of rope back to the fleeing assailants. 

"What was I supposed to learn from that?" Voilet asked, and he didn't bother to wait and see if she was being sarcastic. He immediately focused on pulling the rope back while cursing to himself loudly. 

Missing his shot now was humiliating. But it was close. He knows what angle he needs to retake it. His plan hadn't failed just yet. 

Quickly tugging on the rope, he continued until the hook finally appeared from underneath the rooftop's ledge. It would take a minute to reload it, which he did hastily. No doubt, a dozen guards were already surrounding their location. However, he chose to ignore that fact. Now was not the time to panic.

Readying it again, he stepped to the farthest corner of the building and looked back at the watchtower. Aiming higher up once more, he wasted no time at all. He took the shot, following the hook's traversal in the sky as it began to curve downwards. All the while, Violet stayed close to him.

This time, the hook landed atop the tower. That's what he wanted. With the hook secured, he could drop the crossbow here and take the next step in his plan. Tugging the farthest portion of the rope without falling over, he took a few steps back until the rope resisted. Then, he turned to look at his wife.

"Hold on to me tightly, and don't you dare let go." His instructions were straightforward, and Violet nodded. Her arms wrapped around his torso. He clenched the rope in one hand, while his other hand reached for a small dagger he kept sheathed and hidden below his waist. It was time. "Try not to scream."

"What?" He gave her no time to process his words. He already slashed the bottom portion of the rope with the dagger, and without warning, he ran forward and leaped off the edge. 

As he expected, there were many angry Spaniards below them. All eyes were on him, and he gave them a show of a lifetime. Rather than landing on the ground and breaking their legs, they remained suspended in the air with forward momentum. The rope allowed them to swing across the chasm. 

The cord struggled to maintain both of their combined weight, yet it never snapped and continued the arc upwards towards the sky. Just as they reached the peak of their swing, Milton let go of the rope while keeping some of his momentum forward. After a short drop, his feet landed atop the wall with barely any room behind him. Violet made it as well, quickly shuffling against him to prevent a fall. 

They did it. His plan worked. Standing on the Christian Walls, all they had to do was climb down to the other side, and freedom will be theirs. 

He grinned, feeling a sense of adrenaline overwhelm him as he turned to look at Violet. Seeing her face reminded him of his end goal. Her soft, warm and small smile was finally highlighted after so much turmoil was endured. His hands reached for the sides of her head.

Just as he admired her eyes, he heard the yells from below. Not wanting to take the risk, he was ready to pull her back and continue their escape. But the look on her face changed. Her smile had vanished, and her lips parted in a permanent suspension. Her body twitched for a second before freezing in place. 

He looked down at her, and he saw the silver but bloodied protrusion of a bolt in her stomach. It didn't take long before a second one was fired, and this time, he could see it from below her. It zipped past the air in breath-defying speeds and disappeared behind her back. Then came another jolt from her body. 

Her legs stumbled back, and she was about to tumble off the wall. But he wasn't going to let her go that easily. His right arm snatched her shirt's collar, keeping her from falling to her death. The guards below were readying another volley of bolts and arrows. He didn't have much time. 

However, he could see her life being drained away. She didn't say anything, but the silence all but confirmed it. She was about to die, and this could very well be his only chance to admit everything. 

Keeping her in his grasp, a tear leapt from his eye as he gritted his teeth. "I'm immortal, Violet. And so are you."

She blinked, her lips quivered in the process. He couldn't tell what sort of expression she was trying to make. Was she shocked? Was she confused? He doesn't know what she's thinking but he only hoped he was right. She must be like him, otherwise she'll die believing he's gone mad.

He pulled her close and immediately ran towards the other end of the wall. Stopping by the edge, he looked over and saw the drop. He could survive that fall, but not without sustaining another injury. As for Violet however, when he inspected her again, her eyes were closed and her breathing came to an end. She died in his arms. 

Propping her up against one of the wall's many merlons, he kissed her forehead. Without thinking it over, he pushed her over the edge and allowed her lifeless body to plummet down to the grass in an audible thud. 

Taking a moment to catch his breath, he turned back around. By now, several guards were on the wall with him. So many of them were ready to storm him or shoot him from a distance. He glared at all of them, pounding the side of his gut to prepare himself.

Only one person is leaving here alive.

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Heavy rain befell him.

Standing on a muddy path beside a drenched horse, Milton kept his hood drawn in the pitch-black night. He looked away from the small cabin next to him, but the rain was intensifying. Leading the horse with a single lead, he brought it beside the cabin to partially shield it from some of the rain. 

Leaving his mount outdoors in the dark, he stepped inside the shelter. Inside the candle-lit room was a wooden bedframe and a single body laying atop it. He took great care to bring Violet here. With a nearly empty bucket of water on the floor, he had used most of it to wash her up to remove any blood from her skin. 

Milton dragged a chair in front of the bed, taking a seat with his head lowered. Hours have passed, and she hasn't moved a single muscle yet. He watched her closely and carefully, inspecting every part of her to make sure he hadn't missed anything. 

He doesn't know how it looks for an Immortal to regenerate. Every time, he just wakes up laying down in the last spot he died, or elsewhere if his corpse was moved or dragged in any way. Though he recalls a long time ago one man pointed out that he had levitated in the air when resurrecting in Cadbury. 

But what truly frustrated him was not knowing how long it takes to wake up. Sometimes it takes minutes, or an hour. A few times, it takes a few hours, and on rare circumstances, a whole day passes until he's reborn. That's not to count his first experience awakening over a thousand years into the future. 

His only theory was that it all depended on his mood before his death. If he was caught unaware and killed unexpectedly, he would normally rise later rather than sooner. But if he knew it was coming, he'd awaken quickly, although that also depended on other factors. If he was content with his death, it could still take an hour or more. However, if he was opposed to dying, he found himself returning within minutes. 

He's never been able to confirm it, but it was his own thought. If he was correct, then it could apply to Violet. She died unaware, but how did she feel when it happened? Furthermore, what could her sin be? 

The only sin that came to mind was pride, which could explain her self-confidence. But even he had that trait, and yet his wrath is what embodies him. 

Eventually, he set it all aside. He looked back at her, noticing her continued stillness. He was becoming paranoid. 

"Wake up." He leaned in close to whisper his words, begging her for any sign of movement. "Please."

Violet responded to him with permanent silence. He poked her to get any type of reaction, yet he got nothing in return. "Don't do this to me, don't leave me alone." 

"I'll show you the world. I'll carry you in my arms and take you anywhere your heart desires. We can stand atop the steepest cliffs of Moher in Ireland with a friend that I'm sure you'll bond with. Or we can explore the deserts, and I can show you the grandest pyramid structures you've likely never seen before in your life."

He wiped away a tear as he smiled, staring at her closed eyes. "There's a cathedral in London a few travelers spoke of, claiming it was the tallest building in the world. Saint Paul's Cathedral, it's called. They say the view is to die for. We can see it, together." 

The more he imagined the two of them, the heavier his heart weighed him down. "Perhaps, we can find your home across the seas. Wherever you came from, I can go there with you. You won't ever be alone, just open your eyes and take my hand."

He held her hand and raised it up to his lips as he began to tremble. Could he have been wrong about her? He didn't want to admit it, he didn't even want to think about it. But the longer he waited, the more fragments of hope he held on to were withering. 

"Violet!" His voice erupted in desperation. Minute after minute, he waited for as long as he could. The rain outdoors showed no signs of halting as each drop was muffled against the roof. Milton couldn't give up just yet. 

Shaking her arm, there wasn't any response. Lightly tapping the side of her face yielded no results. Splashing water over her accomplished nothing. 

He kicked the bedframe out of anger. Throughout the night's remainder, he waited for Violet's awakening. Dawn was broken by the sun's slow rise across the vast horizon. Heavy raindrops slowed to a drizzle, causing a dash of colors to arc across the sky in a bow. 

All the while, Milton came to accept reality. She was gone for good. When he heard the quiet chants of the plague cultists outdoors, he wasted no more time. He stepped away from her remains and steadily approached the front door. A bloodied sword he had taken from one of the Spaniards rested against the cabin's wall. He gripped its hilt and opened the door.

To the far right were the white-robed terrors, marching by with torches illuminating the ground they walked over. But they weren't the center of his focus.

Waiting for him outside in the rain was none other than a feline figure. But there was something else about the lion that struck him. In between its teeth was a familiar object. The lion dropped it to the floor, allowing it roll over once before coming to a sudden stop.

Rio was back. Milton stared at his staff, wondering how the lion even accomplished this. But he experienced no happiness and joy from it. After glaring at the lion for a few more moments, he turned his head to his left. In the far distance were the very walls he desperately tried to escape with his wife. Eyeing those dreaded fortifications, he made up his mind.

He furiously gripped his sword tighter.

There will be hell to pay.

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Historical Notes:

The word 'divorce' comes from the Latin word 'divortium' which means 'to separate'. Aside from the Catholic Church prohibiting divorces until the 10th century, many countries and religions followed a similar belief in permitting legal divorces. Many were favored towards men as it was harder for women to file for a divorce, though not impossible.

Medieval Germany was different however. Divorces were carried out through combat. The husband would be thrown into a hole with a weapon while the wife gets to smash his head from above with a club or sack of rocks. Whoever leaves the scuffle alive or with the least amount of injuries gets to go free. 

Depiction of divorce by combat by 15th Century German, Hans Talhoffer

Layout of Madrid featuring the Christian Walls, 1562 AD

In parts of Italy, authorities would chant the words "corpi morti", which meant "bring out your dead". Civilians that lost family members or friends from the plague were instructed to drag all corpses down to the docks to be loaded into boats. The boats would then be taken to secured burying locations away from civilization to prevent further spreading of the disease.

The plague had killed nearly two hundred million people, some of which were the cause of murders. It changed the world to the point where nobody was the same ever again. Outbreaks led to the start of mass rioting and fires, causing the deaths of millions. It wasn't until 1353 that the plague started to die down. Although it never truly disappeared. Cases had only begun to drop as humanity learned how to overcome it, leading several people to quarantine themselves and go into isolation.

Soon enough, doctors understood how to treat it. Catching the plague no longer meant an immediate death sentence. However, the plague persisted, eventually rising in cases during its second pandemic, taking effect until the seventeenth century. The Bubonic Plague still exists today, although cases are extremely rare and are easily cured.

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