His Blood on Her Hands
The snow was falling again. It drifted silently through the darkened sky, soft and gentle, as if mocking the chaos unraveling within the palace walls. Each flake landed like a whisper against Aurora’s skin, cold and stinging, but none of it compared to the ice lodged in her chest. She stared at the blood on her hands. Kael’s blood. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Her vision blurred as she pressed her palms against his wound again, trying to stop the bleeding. His body lay still in her lap, his usually sharp eyes dimmed, his breaths shallow. Around them, the battle in the hallway had gone silent. Warriors lay scattered, groaning or lifeless, and the air reeked of iron and desperation. “Kael,” she whispered, choking on her own voice. “Please. Stay with me.” His hand weakly reached
- Writer
