The knife pierced Ardwyn’s heart, shooting a stabbing sensation through his body. Ardwyn’s head raised up in pain, looking up at the dark sky, and releasing his inner essence. The pain lasted for a few seconds. In those final moments the realization of what was happening felt surreal. All of the events that had brought him here, flashed in his mind. It seemed impossible that here he was going to really die.
The witch, Gwynn, lifted the knife out of his chest, and observed him with a deranged smile, as if he was just a lifeless tool with only one purpose — to get what she wanted. His being mattered nothing to her.
Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
Ardwyn’s body limped, like a rag doll, and the strength left his arms. He fell back on the grass in the middle of the stones. The blood from his heart dripped, and soaked the ground around him. His head turned, a final movement of resting his head in the puddle of blood. A lifeless stare came from his eyes.