He feared the decision, yet he knew he had no other option.
“Either decide now,” he told himself, “or you should never have come to this stage in the first place.”
The wind tugged hard at his flapping cloak. He was only peripherally aware of it, barely registering its presence. What held his utter attention were the gloomy silence, the scarlet sky and the all-consuming thought stampeding around in his mind.
“She needs me!” he told himself desperately. “I have to do this, no matter how much I loathe it!” Aloud he uttered a disgusted “Paugh!” and threw his staff to the ground. A slight tremble stirred throughout the meadow and the hill on which he was standing gave the tiniest shake. Again, he was unaware of what was happening around him.
A sudden unexpected sound broke him out of his reverie. It was the woman. She had spoken in a quiet, pleading tone, not what he had expected at all. He turned to her slowly, his eyes coming to bear down on her with unblinking intensity.
“What did you say?” he asked in a voice filled with tension and subdued wonder.
“Why are you hesitating?” she asked. “Do it now or all is lost.”
He looked into her upturned face and marvelled at the beauty he saw there: a slightly oval face framed by auburn curls, deep green eyes blazing with intelligence – and the unmistakable mark in the middle of her forehead. It glowed with a pearly luminescence that although unearthly, added to her features in an indefinable way.
“Yes, of course. You are right, Rissa, as always,” Cire said, a sad smile playing around his mouth. Then, with no hesitation, he plunged the knife he held in his right hand with all his might into the soil of the hilltop.
As it slid into the brown earth, a shudder shook the hill and spread outwards. A few trees swayed, then all went quiet. Even the wind dropped, everything seemingly waiting with bated breath. He looked then at Rissa as she stood next to him and smiled.
“It’s done,” she whispered, “and now life can begin anew.”
Where the hilt of the knife protruded, a small shoot was growing. The two of them walked off into the barren landscape, the woman holding her bloodied finger in a kerchief while the mark on her forehead glowed even brighter.
Gradually, sound returned to the blasted country, and the sun blazed a final glorious hue of colours as it set behind majestic blue mountains.
Image: Ralph (Ravi) Kayden (www.unsplash.com)