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[https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/08/15/16/57/horse-2644695_1280.jpg]
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The first day, Indaphirel had barely advanced a few miles. The horse had walked at a slow pace, and she had let it be. She stopped early because she had found a picturesque place to camp; it had a brook, it had grass, the trees of the Selvage on one side, the Forest in the nearby, and the west some dunes of sand intertwining with the grass.
The next day, she didn’t move at all. Naked feet, khaki shorts, and a t-shirt, she sat there all morning, looking at the scenery.
Wald… she sighed in her thoughts.
“I miss you…” she said aloud. The horse, grazing nearby, heard her voice and neighed.
“It’s nothing, boy. Just elven melancholy. You can’t understand it.”
She had smoked a lot, ate a little, and drank almost a whole bottle of white wine. That wine. She had cooled it in the brook, and it had brought her into a state of sweet drunkenness, which was in perfect match with her mood.
“I miss you…” she repeated, taking the bottle to her mouth, then exhaling a big Ahhhh!
“How much I wanted to tell you the truth, Wald,” she spoked to his absent lover. “So much. But it is better to let it go.”
She took another sip of wine and sighed. Searching for a new tobacco package in her backpack’s pockets, she found a small folded paper, greasy and dirty. She had read it hundreds of times, but not yet on that day.
“See, Wald, it’s better I leave you for good,” she spoke, unfolding the paper. “I love you, but I’m not in your story... Life is so cruel! So why wait for our love to go cold? I prefer it like this, Wald, to hurt. To feel it in my heart, like a dagger. I love you…”
She cried with her head on her knees. A gust of wind almost took the paper out of her hand, but she clenched on it.
“I killed her to keep you safe,” she whispered. “I loved you so much, always. Even if I knew that I will lose you all this time. But it was worth it, every minute of joy and every pain.”
She reread the paper, even though she knew its content by heart.
Prophecy of the Great Matriarch Dhayana
My future successors, head my warning with attention.
I was there when Santiago Quevedo annihilated our dreams. It’s true, we attacked first, but he was to be destroyed; he was the only man I had ever loved. This kind of feeling cannot be allowed. We know what it’s best for humanity. Pax Matriarcha.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
I had struggled so many years to put back a pale reflection of our former glory, but these islands are remote and our numbers small. It will fall upon you, dear future successors, to fulfill our dream.
But beware. On that fateful day, I had a vision. I saw the future.
A time will come, then a traitor will raise among our Allamain men. He will slaughter many of us, and he will become the King of Ohst, ruining our chances to conquer the Continent again. I do not know his name, but I know this:
His hair is unruly, like he never combs it.
He will betray us for a Schiavonesse Matriarch with a hair fierier than fire.
He will have another wife and a lover on top of that, and the matriarch will indulge him in his folly.
The wife will be a blonde ohstian, he’ll rescue her from a ship: the lover, an elfesse with eyes as black as night.
“Seriously, Wald? Another elfesse?” she asked the wind. “Like a lost dog, you will replace me with another in kind... Will her dark eyes throw at you the same love as my blue ones? Will she kiss you as softly as I? Will she whisper the same love words? Will she leave her heart in your hands, as I did?”
She cried and cried, and cried some more, and then read the last lines.
So, dear future Great Matriarchs, be on your guard. When this man appears, kill him and everyone around him, no matter what.
I leave it in your capable hands.
Great Matriarch Dhayana
“Didn’t work, bitches!” she sneered.
The wind intensified, and the horse neighed. Turning towards the Desert, she gasped; clouds of sand were approaching. The storm had a pinkish light, and the wind was sounding like music. Like their music, like their song. She could hear his voice, in her head: Come back, to me, Despina!
I’m drunk! she thought.
“IT HURTS!” she shouted, throwing the almost empty wine bottle into the dunes. “LOVE HURTS! LET ME FORGET!” The wine spilled and sunk in the sand.
Weather was capricious, in the Desert, it was said. The storm receded like scared by her anger, but not before a gust of wind brought a few grains of sand in her eyes.
“Damn you, Desert!” she cursed, rushing to the brook.
She washed her burning eyes abundantly. Suddenly, she stared at the water, screamed, and pushed herself back. She jumped and ran to the horse, taking a small makeup kit from the saddle pack, looking in the mirror.
“No!” she screamed again, checking her reflection. “How?”
Her blue eyes were now black as the deepest of the night. She shivered. A last burst of wind took the paper away. It landed on a dune and was buried in sand in a matter of seconds. She stared at that spot, tears flowing silently on her cheeks. From her beautiful, dark eyes. She finally broke the stillness and jumped on the horse as she was, with her feet naked, in shorts and t-shirt, leaving everything behind.
An hour later, she arrived back at the western gate, galloping. Casimira and Wald were there, walking hand in hand, looking a little dazed. Seeing her, they stopped then rushed to meet her. She hugged them, crying.
“Goodness!” exclaimed Wald, holding her tight in his embrace. “Are you back for real, or is this just a dream?”
“For real! Forever!”
“Forever! For I’ll never let you go again!” he promised solemnly, kissing her hair, inhaling her perfume like the air he needed to live.
“Thank goodness, some good news on this mad day!” exclaimed Casimira, hugging them both, her hands shaking from exhaustion.
She took them by their waist and put them both on the horse, taking in their sight, sweet to his soul. Pulling the bridle, he went into his City. Exhausted. Happy.