Black

Marcine went stiff. A coldness she never knew ghosted around her, crept inside of her soul and devoured it when she pulled the blade from the side of the soldier’s neck she had halfway sliced through. She turned slow.

There she saw him, her elder brother lying across the hot dirt. A hollow feeling encased her, chills caressed her skin. For then, the battle and carnage ceased to exist. Her teeth grinded and felt like they were shattering along with her as a whole. She reached but she couldn't touch him. Her bloodied sword fell at her feet with a clank. She didn't hear the bullets flying or the screams-- just the shriek of metal across the unforgiving hard desert floor.

She took a step forward with shaking breath and weary legs, her strength wavering before she fell to her knees at his side. "Luke," She began, voice sounding disembodied even to her. "Brother, wake up." With all the energy she had left, she went to hold the hand that clutched his chest, holding it as tightly as she could as the blood seeped between the fingers of both siblings. "I'm going to get you help, just stay with me."

Luke’s brown eyes finally opened, flicking with life when he looked up to see his Marcine. He thought of her on all occasions to be the better of the two of them. To Luke, his sister was the purest form of humankind, maybe even a goddess reincarnate.

"I'm sorry, love. I fear I am leaving you now." His voice strained through small coughs and he used the last of his energy to focus on his Marcine. He didn't want to die yet, but if he had to, he was glad she was his last sight. Marcine's fingers shook and tightened over the wound.

"No, we can.. Just don't.. You-- promised me you wouldn't." She stutters and stammers, trying to force the life back into the only thing she ever loved. What was she to say if it was it? She wanted more time. "Brother please!" Such hurry and fear laced in her voice then it would make even angels would stifle tears.

"Shh, my little queen." His voice held a small tune with no panic, smiling to her so weak the tears she had held back escaped. She knew the song and her insides twisted, lips quivering as she spoke the words with him. "Close your eyes and rest, for I will watch over you even after death, my gift from the Gods, my little salvation." He coughed again and removed his hand from the wound, caressing her jaw and brushing away the tears.

"Dearest sister.." Luke's face is serene even as blood comes out of the corner of his mouth. He grips the back of Marcine's neck and pulls her close to whisper his last words. "Know peace, my angel."

Her body trembles at them in response, sniffling, not wanting to take her eyes off of him. "I love you, brother. I'm so sorry.." Marcine kisses his cheek and pressed her head into his neck-- forcing his scent to imprint itself her nose as his grip loosens until his arm slips away. "Please don't.. You promised. Don't." Her next breath is sharp-- feeling as though it is cutting through her lungs, his chest now caving at her weight as a last shallow exhale filled with the noise of gurgling.

"No, no, no.." She repeats endlessly, weeping into his neck. Each second the screams begin to get louder. She keeps her eyes shut, not wanting to see him lifeless as she pressed twin coins into his hand. "Gods preserve you, dearest brother."