Page 1 of His Retribution

Floating Away

Danube River. Slovakia. 1745 AD.

Cold.

Numb.

Detached.

Desolate.

Feelings I've grown accustomed to. Feelings that have ruled my existence for the last two hundred or so years. Feelings I didn't think I'd ever have to experience again after The Maker found mercy on my black soul and allowed a ray of light to pierce my darkness.

My boots sink into the riverbed; the silt pulling, gripping, sucking in the leather like quicksand. The gentle waves crash against my body like ice, tiny razors caress my flesh, tear my skin with the sting of a thousand teeth.

Still, I press on.

The screaming, blood-curdling cries, and hopeless pleas fade. The clash of iron against iron, the roars of anger, the howls of wounded, and the crackle of burning wood almost disappear. The only noise, only sound I hear is the erratic beating of my dead heart; the organ working on instinct to pump the now frozen blood through my veins.

And still, I press on.

My lungs expand and contract quicker, my thighs shake with each strained step. My hands pull at the water, trying to find purchase on something, anything that will help me move faster, or act as oars and propel my body toward the light.

Chest level.

The river persists, trying to swallow me whole, and drag me down to a watery grave, one that will merely contain a living body with no soul.

I reach out, my fingers so close to the light—so close I can almost touch it—but as I take another agonizing step forward, red clouds my vision. Bright red spirals in front of me, snakes out toward my hand, a stark contrast to the deep blue almost black water under the muted gray sky.

I stop and watch the red continue to swirl, to reach for me as I reach for the light. The red parts in front of me, the tendrils thickening, splitting like a claw as it wraps around my chest. I can almost feel the warmth, the remnants of heat that once thrummed through the red, the light that showed from the inside out.

The light that was snuffed out right before my eyes.

An explosion behind me brings my surroundings back into focus. The yelling, the fighting, all of it clear once again.

"Havok!"

I blink and watch the light flicker, watch her bob in the red tinted water. My feet try to carry me forward, my arms reach and fingers stretch.

So close.

Only a few more steps.

"Havok! Let us go!"

I barely register the voice, the booming baritone that scarcely speaks, let alone yells, but I can't seem to bring myself to turn, to acknowledge his words or presence.

"My brother, it is time!"

Just a little further and I'll have it. The light, my light, will once again be within my grasp and this time—

Another explosion causes the river to ripple; the rocking becomes reckless, the crash and burst of light that comes from behind causes a wave that pushes her away, and just as my light slips another foot out of my reach, I see them.

Two eyes. Two pale eyes connect with mine. Eyes I've looked into a thousand times. Eyes that held so much warmth.

So much life and hope. So much love and light.

Eyes clearer than a summer sky, bluer than the rarest sapphire. Eyes that are now glazed over.