“Please, no,” she patted her hands again. When was Cerene going to realize that she wasn’t capable of creating fire like her mother? “Just stay with me, or they will eat you alive,” she told Cerene.
Shew urged the unicorn to fight its way up, “I can’t be the Chosen One. It surely is a mistake,” she mumbled. “How can I be when I’m always running away from something?” She had to run away, save herself and Cerene.
The unicorn struggled even more. The rain and snow complicated everything. The poor unicorn didn’t know whether to trot through or be cautious of slipping.
“Rain, snow, and bad weather,” Shew grunted. “Next I’m going to get a damn tsunami in my face…”
Shew’s unicorn stopped atop of the hill. Speaking of tsunamis, there was nothing on the other side but the endless Missing Mile ocean, and it was a straight shot downwards to reach it. A large wave crashed against the rocks at the bottom as Shew sat paralyzed, looking at the endless water ahead.
“This can’t be,” she said, fear taking over her completely. Cerene’s eyes bulged out, speechless as her friend. They gazed back at the waving hordes of black cloaks and unicorns closing in, and then back at the ocean.
“What are we going to do now?” Cerene asked. “You think we should just jump in the ocean?”
“We could,” Shew said. “But that doesn’t guarantee we’ll live.”
“My mother said, you’d be immortal when you turn sixteen,” Cerene said.
“I’m not sure I’m immortal yet,” Shew said. “I don’t feel immortal. Maybe I have to split my heart first or something,” she said under her breath. “Even if I were immortal, you could die, Cerene,” she said.
“It was going to happen sooner or later,” Cerene said. “I’m glad I met you before I died.”
Shew squeezed Cerene’s hand tighter, “I’m glad I met
“What are you doing, Joy?”
The Huntsmen were in her face, only a hundred strides away. The Huntsmen were like time, and time was the greatest serial killer in history, it always arrived, never tick too soon, or a tock to late.
Shew took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and imagined the future. She imagined passing through this moment. She imagined surpassing all the pain, crossing over to a land of lilies and singing birds where she and Cerene were playing in the field. She imagined all the beautiful things that could happen later. It helped her lift some of the moment’s weight off her shoulders.
Then she opened her eyes.
Shew felt as if she was seeing the world with new eyes, the eyes of the future. If she were to cross this very dark hour, she had to see further than the length of her sword, further than the horizon, further that what logic and physical shortcomings permitted, and further than the imaginable. It was the only way to cross this moment: to long for the prize and reward of the future.
Cerene was shocked to see the Huntsmen slow down, a little cautious of Shew. Their yellow eyes dimmed a little. They were watching Shew watching them, and the air was charged with anticipation.
The hunter had become worried of the hunted, because the hunted was one step away from becoming the hunter.
Slowly, the Huntsmen made way for Loki’s unicorn, appearing from the middle. He stopped a stride ahead of them and pulled back his cloak. No amount of rain could wash away the darkness that stained him. He was bleeding from his scars caused by Shew and the glass dragon.
“I’ve never really had to go this far to kill someone,” he spoke. “Still, everything dies in the grip of my hands eventually.”
“I’m not in the grip of your hand, Loki,” Shew spoke back with the same seriousness and intensity.
“You will be,” he nodded. “Look at you, princess. You got the ocean at your back and me in front. Death doesn’t come any closer than this.”
“If I jump off this cliff and die in the ocean,” Shew said, “death will be yours because the Queen will kill you for not getting my heart.”
“I’m a good swimmer, princess,” Loki said. “I’ve even pulled a ring from the belly of a whale,” he said.
“Unlucky her who needed that ring,” Shew smirked.
“I’m no woman’s man, dear princess,” Loki said. “I’m not interested in you anymore. I’m not even going to give you the honor of killing you myself. I’ll let my hungry Huntsmen do it, just the way the Queen let’s her cats take care of the rats in the castle. You’re all alone now, princess. Who do you think will stand up for you?” He turned his unicorn to leave taking the same path he’d come from.
Loki disappeared, and his Huntsmen began approaching. Cerene’s heart beat so fast that Shew could feel it pumping on her back.
Instead of freezing, every step forward the Huntsmen took, Shew equaled it with another step forward. She wasn’t afraid of them anymore. If the Huntsmen were fear itself, she’d decided there was no better moment to face it.
About fifty strides away, the Huntsmen stopped. They pulled their cloaks back, showing their ugly disfigured faces, staring at the bold princess who stared back at them.
Cerene swallowed hard.
Each passing moment Shew looked at them, she gained more strength. Fear was just a coward like all of us sometimes. Dare look it in the eyes long enough and it will bow with respect.
A flat smile shaped the Huntsmen’s faces. It was like: really, are you looking back at us? Who do you think you are?
Shew made sure she did not flinch for a second. She raised her sword in the air, and one of the Huntsmen took a stride back. It was the beginning. Rights were taken step by step. Wars were won drop by drop of blood.
Another Huntsman stepped back. Shew could see the confusion building up on their faces.
She took a step forward and uttered one word, “Me,” she was answering Loki’s question when he asked her who’d stand up for her. “The worst thing about fairy tales is that they make you think you have to wait for the prince.”
The Princess of Sorrow, realizing she needed no mentor, no Chanta, no moon, rode down the hill and attacked.
It would be hard to explain what really happened. Shew swung her sword as if the Queen had really eaten her heart, and the heartless girl left was nothing but a beautiful monster. Shew was merciless, chopping off heads with one strike just as Loki did in Furry Tell. Everything her father taught her crystallized before her eyes. She even imagined herself wearing her father’s armor, killing the Intruders. Every trick, every maneuver, and every heartless swing was in the name of her father whom people feared all over the world.
She stroke as if she were one of them, evil, heartless, and a darkness eater. This was what she was meant for, to be one of the and yet kill them.
She rode the unicorn down the hill, killing whoever was on her left or right. No one dared block her way.
Cerene closed her eyes most of the time. Even when the blood of Huntsmen spattered on her face, she didn’t open them, grateful to the rain for washing it away.
Shew got wounded, but she didn’t bother to look. She was determined to be as strong as Loki.
Pain, wounds, and aches were an illusion, only manifested by the colors of bruises and blood, but it had no roots; pain was a figment of one’s imagination.
Only one thing could stop her: Death. Even then, she had found it arguable.
Slash, swing, chop, scream, slash, swing, and never look behind.
Fight fire with fire.
Her sword and fangs were Shew’s fire. Her fangs only scared the Huntsmen away. She wasn’t going to waste time biting them one by one. But her sword, made of white glass, energized by Cerene’s breath, was her Art. Some people’s art was a painting, some their knowledge, some their caring for their families. But the Chosen One’s Art was different. It was the cruelty she had to use to make things right, the darkness she used to bring the light, and her individuality in gathering a nation. Shew would have simply ridden back and given her heart to the Queen. She didn’t need one anymore.
Like a maniac, she ended up chasing the Huntsmen as they toppled and ran away from her down the
