To Bewitch a Devil

Chapter 300  Thank you, Zavian

Shadows fell across her face, and blurry faces hovered close above her.

"I love you," Neera breathed out. After that, she didn\'t breathe in.

….

When elephants ran, they shook the earth. When lions roared, they cast fear into people. When any sort of beast prowls the land, people run.

But when Zavian cried out, the whole world shook, and the sky cracked from the force of his voice, sending rain down, washing the earth of blood, soot, battle, but it couldn\'t wash away the pain of the bereaved, rupturing the sky to respond back with thunders.

"Where is Anna?" Zavian was feral. "Find her now!"

Azriel put a hand on Zavian\'s shoulder. "Zavian, she\'s gone."

The way Zavian bared his teeth at Azriel made the General Commander step back.

"We would revive her like before," Zavian said. "Anna would do that."

"Zavian," It was Freya holding him now, protective hands hugging him close to herself. "She can\'t be resurrected the second time. She is gone. I am so sorry."

Zavian shook his head. "No, no," he kept muttering over and over again, rocking the immobile body of his wife. All the soldiers bowed their heads in respect, and Freya could offer no more words of condolence.

"I have failed her," Zavian whimpered, joining his forehead to Neera\'s. "I failed her again."

"You didn\'t," Freya said. "Stop saying that. You don\'t have control over how things will turn out," she looked at Neera, remembering the determination in her eyes before the battle.

I have no use doing nothing, she had said, one hand more can save everyone.

And she did it. Neera had saved everyone while sacrificing herself.

The rain pattered to a stop, and the skies cleared into a cloudless dull colour. They all remained on the battlefield, and as Zavian bawled his soul out, calling to Neera over and over again, the beginning of a new chapter in the Kingdom opened with the dirge of death and victory over the enemies, the bitter aftertaste stilling the Kingdom.

….

Neera\'s hair colour glimmered under the chandelier in the throne room. Her smile, shy and small, and her eyes, the violet rich and mesmerizing, stared down at Penelope.

The painting had arrived a month ago as a condolence gift from a painter to the King, and the details of her best friend\'s face were so accurate that Penelope found herself visiting the castle almost every day to stare at it. She couldn\'t bear to sit by Neera\'s grave, secluded in a small wreath house designed just for Neera and planted with all her favourite flowers.

Tears streamed down Penelope\'s face, and she didn\'t bother to wipe them. Azriel had told her the bags under her eyes were beginning to be a cause for alarm, and he had ensured she saw the doctor regularly to get her health checked. But when the doctor started his questions with, "How are you today? How do you feel?" how could she explain that she was homesick for a person who had died? How does she explain that sleep was a refuge and a torture all at once, because Neera always came visiting, and it was beautiful, and fun, until she woke up, and realized she was never going to see Neera ever again.

"I am here today again, Neera," Penelope spoke to the painting. "You look well, always have." She sighed. "After you left, I blamed myself for not stopping you, for not holding you down to stay, but Azriel said I wouldn\'t have succeeded, and that\'s how fate works. I choose to believe him because regret and guilt are a poisonous mix to have in a body."

Penelope rubbed her palm down the front of her black silk dress and gave the painting a watery smile.

"You are still alive to us all," Penelope said. "I still hear that song you sang in the protection chamber, I never knew you had such a lovely voice. Before I go to sleep at night, that\'s what I hear. And it still echoes within these walls.

I ate some candies today, and I ate for you too but ended up having a bad stomach ache," A finger came to wipe a tear that slipped free, and she laughed. "I can hear you reprimanding me already."

"That would be me doing the reprimand," someone said.

Behind her, Azriel leaned against the wide door frame. He had gotten bulkier over the weeks from training with Zavian. The King had found an outlet for his grief through every form of fighting- boxing, sword fighting, archery, and spent most of his time outdoors, avoiding the castle as much as he could.

Penelope understood. Neera\'s memories soaked the castle like dye, and there was no undoing it for centuries to come.

Azriel stepped forward and came to stand by Penelope\'s side. He folded his arms and stared up at Neera\'s smiling face. For a while, neither of them said anything.

"It\'s been almost four months now," Azriel said.

"Three months, twenty-two days, and ten hours," Penelope enunciated.

Azriel\'s shoulders fell as he puffed out a breath of air. "Strange how time flies by without it flying by."

"Feels like just yesterday." Penelope said.

"I agree."

"And the King? Where is he?"

"He is inspecting the gardens. He wants to make sure it\'s receiving all the care it is supposed to," he turned to her then. "And you? Are you okay?"

Penelope nodded. "I am better with each day. Time heals all wounds but…what do I do with the grief?"

"You don\'t do anything but grow around it, Pen," Azriel said. "We never get rid of the grief, but we grow around it, and large enough to contain it, give it space. It\'s not a bad thing, but a part of life. And that is how you survive."