...and then she pulled the trigger
The sun was just beginning to rise over Elvinia; the morning crisp, clear and cool. Syrregain trudged out of bed, relieved that for once he didn’t have anything to do. He decided to check in on his mother, who had been a little on the edge for the past few days. She was going insane, and Syrregain knew that—he probably was not far off the mark himself, for that matter.
He eventually found her in the bright and ostentatious throne room, and he immediately rushed over to her. She had the sword Lacrymosa in hand and she was swinging it around angrily, as effortlessly as a spoon. Her technique was rather exquisite for a woman, but nonetheless...
“Mother,” he exclaimed as he got a hold of her; “what are you doing?”
“It isn’t good for me to keep emotions inside,” she explained through gritted teeth; “so I’m putting them out here. Let me go, Syrregain.” And he did that, remembering to step back toward the exit, as he watched Queen Anukka effortlessly smash the glass out of a window.
Gerodathia was not deserving of the beauty it was always described with. If anything, it was deserving of so much more.
The sand beneath Garril’s feet was indeed tinged red, like the fine sheets of silk that he had seen in Sycracia and—from the confines of his memory—Elvinia. The smaller island was visible, and it was not all that far away. The simple beauty of the wildlife harbored such complexity it was hard to think about.