Page 8 of Emylia

ChapterFour

The stench of death clung thick in the frost-bitten air. Suffocating. Cataclysmic. I forced my eyes shut before taking a step forward.

The smell was potent, instantly coating my mouth in a heavy layer of ick. The unmistakable odor of dead flesh sent my stomach reeling. Ignoring the clawing of my insides, I took a final step forward. I was close enough now that if I reached out, I would be greeted with the icy nothingness of death.

Frozen, I stared at his ash-colored hand. As much as I yearned for the connection physical touch would provide, I couldn’t make myself move.

What was I waiting for?

Stomach hollowing, clarity came like a kick to the stomach.

I was waiting for the moment when everything froze. When there was only he and I. I needed the last eighteen years of unconditional love to become tangible. I needed something I could hold and keep with me always.

I knew I was being irrational, but I needed his life to mean something. I needed his death to have some sort of reason. An explanation. Because this. This was just shit.

The world hadn’t changed. It didn’t acknowledge my loss, it didn’t even care. Everything would move on like nothing had happened. How was that fair?

He deserved more than this.

He deserved for the earth to split open in protest, fire spitting out of its depths as it mourned with me. Not this numbing emptiness. Not the quiet desperation of normalcy when nothing was normal anymore. When nothing was okay.

I knew a moment like that would never come.

No. There would be no comfort in his touch.

Just emptiness.

But I had to do this. If I didn’t, I knew regret would haunt me.

My hand cupped his, the chill of his skin blasting a glacial breath into my lungs. I clung to the last flicker of warmth, as if letting go would shatter me entirely.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I willed myself to breathe.

Heart weighed down like it was tethered to the ground, I did something I never thought I’d have to do—I looked at the lifeless face of the one man who meant everything to me.

Words were thick in my mouth, stuck like they’d been caged. What was wrong with me? I knew what I needed to say. I needed to tell him how much he meant to me. How much I loved him.

As much as I wanted to speak those words, I couldn’t.

Blinded by fury, I lost the remaining tethers on my control. This was bullshit. No, it was more than that. It was a cruel, twisted joke, and I wasn’t going to have any part of it. Heart imploding, I spun on my heel, leaving without a single word.

Breath tight in my chest, I didn’t stop until the pounding in my head was only a dull roar. Out of breath and broken, I finally turned. As much as I’d tried to prepare for this moment, I wasn’t ready; I’d never be ready.

Not for this.

Flames rose above me, hungrily devouring everything in its path. Its scorching touch bubbling and blistering wood and flesh alike despite the rain that continued to fall.

The inferno raged, engulfing the pyre, and his fragile body along with it. Unable to tear my eyes away, I watched as everything I loved was stolen from me.

Ignoring the lick of scolding heat, I took a step forward. Eyes wide, all I could do was watch in horror, every minute detail etching in my memory. A chasm burst inside me, hurt spreading through me like poison.

My throat thickened, cutting off any oxygen. Suffocating, I desperately tried to choke in a mouthful of air. Pain radiated through me, throbbing like it had a pulse of its own. It was nothing compared to the pain ripping apart what was left of my shattered heart.

“Stop!” My voice was an ear-splitting scream. No one listened. The fire continued to burn, ignoring my protest. “Stop.” A desperate plea lost in the presence of devastation.

I hadn’t said goodbye. I couldn’t let him go, not without telling him what he meant to me.

“Please stop.” I rasped, my voice torn and ragged–as if it had been dragged through the embers of the fire still raging in front of me.

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