Page 98 of Of Wind and Terror

I need to die.

I need to die.

I need to die.

I take a step closer, away from the trees, towards a clearing. Fog softens the edges of it and gives it an ominous, eerie look. A branch near the edge expands outwards into the center of the clearing.

And, connected to it, is a noose.

I need to die.

I need to die.

My breathing turns thready, and a different voice in the back of my head screams at me. But when I try to focus on what it’s saying, the music grows louder, drowning out every other sound.

I need to die.

I need to die.

Tears cascade down my cheeks when I think about Kassandra. My mate.

I failed her.

I failed her by simply existing.

“She’ll be better off without you around,” the voice declares.

“She’ll be better off without me around,” I repeat.

I can do this for her, can’t I? Sacrifice myself to save her? It’ll be the last good thing I’ll ever do.

Perhaps the only good thing.

A weight eases from my shoulders and slides down my arms. It feels as if I’m removing a heavy winter cloak.

I’m sorry, Kassandra.

I’m sorry for my past and the sins I committed.

I know you’ll never forgive me.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

With tears blinding my vision, I step up to the rope and settle the noose around my neck. Then the ground falls out from underneath me—or maybe the branch jerks upwards—and darkness paints my vision black.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I’m—

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