ACCUSATION

Written on October 4, 2024 (♎︎)

Author's Notes: Written for Whumptober 2024 for prompt No. 4: Hallucination (“You’re still alive in my head”).

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She was not real–Wiegraf thought as he stumbled across the monastery steps. The figure in the dark was not there. It was a great nothing: a voice brought to him in the throes of drink or sleeplessness, now given shape in the throes of dying. As he spilled himself against the flagstones, as he felt the blood well up from his chest and fall down his lips, he told himself the thing hovering above him was not Miluda–that the lightning did not cast her shadow upon him.

He fell more than once, and each fall was a bad fall. In the echo of the thunder ran words never spoken–dialogues he’d imagined in the black hours after midnight before.

"As long as you are their dog, as long as you fight for men ornamented in gold and draped in purples..."

He bit at his tongue. His guts dragged against the slate. Miluda had not lived to see him thus. She could not accuse.

"As long as you bear that title..."

Another flash and crack. Wiegraf dared not look.

"...you are my enemy..."

He tried to mouth a response, knowing she could not hear him–knowing she would spurn any excuse he gave.

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