The door opens slowly.
The sun shone on Ruh's cold face.
He opened his eyes wide,
and for a moment a strange sensation assailed his right eye,
as if he'd never had it before.
Right in front of him,
Léa's head bobbed up and down in the water, her face soiled
With tears and blood,
Her sores and bruises
But who were these two?
Watching her daughter being forcibly drowned,
Seeing the water go down her throat,
The punches tormenting his chest,
The impacts making every part of her body quiver,
Before being slammed once more into the water and mud,
She was also half-naked.
Ruh is filled with the adrenalin of a wolf,
He dashes forward with a speed that no-one had ever seen before.
He struck the face of the first man, shouting;
‘Release my daughter at once!’
Ruh watched his two opponents carefully.
Their uniforms, sky blue and snow white, were those of the King's Marquis.
The Marquis are the Hands of Tarshkila, those through whom He reigns on Earth.
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They are, of course, the most powerful people in this world, and act only according to His requests and His laws.
The one who drowned our flaming little head was hunchbacked,
as if he were carrying something enormous on his back.
The second had a very slightly horned nose,
And a beard and hair the colour of water.
The first was hideous, the second very beautiful.
‘ D... Dad, they... Léa sighed, clinging weakly to her father's tunic, trying to hide gently.
- Your daughter, eh? said the horned man, before smashing his foot violently against the little girl's skull.
She was crushed under the water,
the brutality of the blow exposing part of her bones.
Bits of her brain and blood spurted like geysers onto Ruh.
The monster picks up the girl's corpse and throws it violently.
It lands right in Ruh's arms.
Ruh.
Ruh.
Ruh!
He was annihilated of all ability to act,
physically destroyed,
His morbid gaze was fixed on the laughing marquis.
He was speechless, his legs trembling frantically.
Like a plant being shaken here and there.
On the point of dying but fighting on,
To see the sun again, if only once, that is its goal,
And wither and live again like a diva.
He carried the body of this innocent soul,
Whose silhouette resembled a heap of vile flesh and blood.
‘ L... Léa... Wake up... We're going home, please wake up.’
No response. He slowly lowered his gaze and saw his wounds.
He raises it towards his enemies, looking bruised.
‘Marquis, or not, O You who dared to take what was dearest to my soul.
I will kill you and spread your entrails all over the country.
Your head on a rubbish bin which I'll burn until it traumatises your ladies.
- Oh, boy. A statement like that wouldn't go unnoticed,’ said the hunchback as he approached.
He grabbed him by the collar, while the peasant spat in his face.
The hunchback threw a punch in the face that made Ruh bleed.
‘Cease!’
The Governor arrives in a hurry, tearing the peasant away from the Marquis.
The young father collapses in the water,
embracing his little daughter.
His body felt as if it were being pulled by several hundred thousand chains of grief.
Each one tearing off a piece of Ruh before putting it back on, only to do it again.
This couldn't be real, no, he didn't want to believe it, it wasn't true.
In the end, there was nothing left of Ruh.