WISH
Written on October 7, 2024 (♏︎)
Author's Notes: Written for Whumptober 2024 for prompt No. 7: Only for Emergencies (Magic with a Cost).
Ramza had thought, when he’d fallen from the slate roof, that perhaps he would face hell–that perhaps the priest had spoken true.
In that instant between the air and the earth, sure enough, a great many sins came back to him. Petty childhood cruelties, the blood on his poignard in Gariland’s streets, the terrible silence after the bolt fired and could not be withdrawn. He felt them all anew before he met the ground and the air left his lungs, a thin line of red passing with it.
It took a moment for the drumming in his head to separate into two distinct rhythms: the clatter of approaching footsteps and the racing of his heart. He’d lived, even if it might not be for long.
When he heard the words spoken–that low chant from his youth, sung out in a voice not his own–he wondered if that was another phantom come to haunt him. It took a moment too to remember Delita was with him.
He would have felt childish however it happened, dying by the friend of his childhood. He felt childish enough to weep when he realized what was happening: Delita’s face going pale as his grew warm.
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