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Celine could still recall the blood on her hands as she held Mi-yeong’s limp body in her arms. It was everywhere. On the ground, on her clothes, on her hands—her hands.
The shadows seemed to creep up on Celine as she stood by the tree, watching the Honmoon as its tears grew. The shadows were always there. Waiting to be repaid. Waiting for blood. Waiting for death. Celine wanted to listen to their whispers.
Celine looked at her reflection in the scythe she carried in her right hand. It was a useless thing—she had only used it for cleaning Mi-yeong’s grave earlier and had forgotten to put it away.
Why the scythe in particular?
Celine saw the shadows in her reflection, begging, pulling, screaming at her to give in to the darkness.
Telling her it was all her fault, the Honmoon’s current state, Mi-yeong’s death, everything. But maybe the shadows could fix Celine.
Telling her she was all alone. No one who could understand, no one she could ever tell the truth to, no one who would trust her. But maybe the shadows could give her the warmth she craved.
Telling her that they could become her source of comfort, if she simply turned the scythe in the direction they wanted.
The shadows promised everything.
And Celine had nothing.
Footsteps. The dirt crunched softly as something approached Celine. She quickly turned, her blade pointing at what she realized was Rumi.
Patterns on full display, glowing magenta. One eye resembling a cat’s eye, pupil a narrow slit, iris glowing. Clawed hands like his–touching what should have belonged to Celine.
Why couldn’t Mi-yeong have loved her instead of that monster?
(You tried to love her, and where did that get you?)
Celine took Rumi in out of duty to Mi-yeong, but she found a growing attachment to the young, innocent child. Celine told her to hide so the shadows would stay quiet. Celine taught her to hide so she wouldn’t make a mistake.
Her hands couldn’t lie. They were still covered in blood. They trembled every time she considered the idea of hunting demons again, like the old days, but her weapons weren’t what they once were.
The shadows wondered if hunting Rumi would ease the restlessness in her heart.
Now, her hands were trembling with fear as she remembered that day–eerily similar to this. She found Mi-yeong barely alive, alone, near the tree, the dirt already stained with blood.
Whose blood would stain the ground today?
Celine was unable to grip her scythe with her trembling hands. The scythe slipped, dangerously close to her fingers. The shadows were whispering again. They told her pain would release her from the unrest she felt day after day, waiting for the Honmoon to turn gold–waiting for her past mistakes to finally be erased. To put it all in the past and live like a new person. Someone who deserved another chance.
But not right now. Right now, all she deserved was death. The shadows told her to pick up the scythe, but she was frozen.
“I thought I could fix it all. Fix me But I ran out of time. They saw. They know. There’s no denying it now. This is what I am.”
“Rumi, no,” Celine said, her voice a ghostly whisper.
“You knew I was a mistake from the very start. Do what you should've done a long time ago.” Celine trembled, watching as Rumi summoned her sword. “Before I destroy what I swore to protect.”
For a moment, Celine wondered if Rumi realized how much the sight of that blade being offered to her drove her mad. Temptation.
Mistakes were the only thing Celine could think about now–Celine was at fault for everything since the day she refused to accept Mi-yeong’s choice to love a demon. Everything that had gone wrong was hers–her faults and fears.
Celine couldn’t help but wonder in that moment if Rumi realized the irony. She had tried so hard to not kill her. She had tried so painfully hard to look at Rumi and not show the weakness in her heart, because her faults and fears must never be seen. She had tried so painfully hard to resist the urge to summon her swords from the Honmoon and kill Mi-yeong’s child.
“Please,” Rumi begged. “Do it!”
Celine almost laughed. Did Rumi realize what she was asking? Did she really think Celine would let her die that easily after all the pain she went through to raise her? Did Rumi really think she deserved to die, when Celine knew the all too obvious truth? It was Celine’s fault. She was the monster.
A disgusting monster.
(This is why you’re supposed to die.)
The shadows were whispering again, fighting, begging for the faults and fears to be seen to be seen to be seen tobeseentobeseentobeseen.
Celine looked at her hands and saw red, her hands dyed crimson as if it was just minutes ago that Mi-yeong was dead in her arms. It was all her fault her fault herfaultherfaultherfault–
Suddenly, it all seemed like fate. A sword being offered to her at a point where the shadows were already all around her, waiting for a debt to finally be paid in blood.
Blood.
The blood was everywhere. Everywhere. Everywhere. Everywhereeverywhereeverywhere.
Deep down, Celine knew it was only a matter of time before she gave in. So she did the thing that made the most logical sense in the moment. She took the sword from Rumi.
Rumi tensed as Celine slowly looked at her sword.
Celine couldn’t see a single hint of her reflection in its shimmering surface. To her, it was proof that she was a monster that the Honmoon was rejecting. The shadows whispered again.
Do it.
Do it.
Do it.
Celine listened.
For once, she was the one making the choice.
She was the one in control.
She was no longer holding back.
The blade burned her skin the way it did to demons as it sunk into her.
To Celine, that was proof enough that she was a demon that only deserved death.
At least the shadows were there.
They surrounded her as Rumi looked up at her in shock, eyes wide as Celine fell.
“Why?!” Rumi screamed.
Did Rumi really think Celine would tell her?
After all this time?
After all these secrets?
After all the self control it had taken for her to not do this long ago?
After all it had taken her to not lose herself and join Mi-yeong in the grave?
After all the faults and fears she had kept out of sight?
After all the tears?
After all the blood?
No.
She wouldn’t give Rumi the satisfaction of knowing. That story was only for Celine and Mi-yeong.
The only thing left was Celine.
It was her blood on her own hands now.
It was her blood causing the pain.
It was her blood that dripped on the ground as she fell.
And for once, it wasn’t her voice begging for someone to stay–to live.