I Fell In Love With My Murderer’s Dupe

In the middle of the woods, surrounded with swaying trees and the music radiating from the birds’ chirps, Elara’s fingers moved gracefully, the gold and silver threads of the cardigan she’s making dangled, creating an interesting pattern. It was around 5 in the morning. First thing she did was to finish weaving it for her upcoming 25th birthday. “At least, it looks like it somehow,” she utters, excitement lingering in her sweet voice. The sunlight slowly peeked in the bareness of her windows as she weaved, signalling the start of the day. Elara’s POV I had to start weaving early in the morning not only for the reason that I had to finish this soon, but more because of the fact that the villagers would often come here later on to have me look into their future. Honestly, people here believe that I have the power to foresee the future and the way to see that is through the patterns I create. Personally, I do not believe that but strikingly odd enough, most of my readings are always right. No, not most, but so far, all of them did happen. The villagers here would often ask about their fortune, their possible life in the next years, gambling results, and even the time and the way they would die. Although most people who would come to ask about that are those of old age, or those who are facing deadly illnesses. Despite that, I still see myself as no other than a regular and simple weaver. The atmosphere here seems a bit weird. The sun is up but the place is darker than usual. It is a bit creepy, I may say. It is like, something that I do not know of, is spying me. I can feel the chill creep down my spine. “Who is that?” I asked, gulping the lump in my throat as I tried to coherently think. Someone is here. A dark shadow just appeared by the door. This could be a new villager wanting to ask me about her future. It would not hurt me to walk closer, right? I walked towards the door with light steps as I kept my mind alert. But are they not too early to be visiting me? I have not even finished my cardigan yet? My eyes widened in fear. There was a man standing by the doorway, wearing a cloak as dark as the night. On top of that, his eyes sparked red. It is him. Lord Nicol. The lord of this kingdom. What brought him here at this hour? “Elara,” he called for my name, his voice so low but as scary as the sound of the thunder. Why is he here? I had heard about this man’s cruelty and the atrocities he had imposed in the kingdom. This man right here is someone I should be wary of the most. He is known for being greedy for money, and power. But why would such a Lord be visiting my humble cottage? “Is there anything that you want..?” I asked. No matter how hard I try to mask my fear with my stern voice, my hands have failed me. They were shaking and could not stay still. Lord Nicol stepped into the cottage, his aura filling the air. I could feel his thirst for blood, it was suffocating. “You. I am here for you.” What? What is it of me that the Lord needs? I slowly backed away, my hands extending at my back looking for something to clutch on or I would fall. “What do you need from me?” “You and your power to foresee the future would harm me in the future.” Lord Nicol moved closer to me, pulling out the sword from the scabbard tied on his waist. It was sharp, as if it was prepared for this day. But the sword has left a few red marks, indicating it has been used to kill. He came here to kill me. The lord is planning to kill me. “Lord, I am merely a weaver in this small village. How would I even harm your future?” Backing away as I responded, I was able to get a hold of my dagger hidden below my table. It was always meant for emergencies, after all. “Do not talk back to me! It is already stated in the prophecy and before that could happen, I am here to eliminate you!” He growled. It was loud and painful, it almost got my ears bleeding. “Are you even sure that I am the weaver you were pertaining to? There are a lot of weavers in your kingdom! There cannot be only me!” “No more talking. The prophecy pointed to the weaver of silver and gold. You are that weaver.” With swift motion, the last thing I managed to see was the sight of Lord Nicol swinging his sword towards my neck. It was too fast, like a flash of light. The only thing I could grip was my dagger and my cardigan. This is the end. I would never reach 25 years of age. I do not want to end my life no matter what prophecy that was. I am merely just… a weaver. To be continued.