I hear the footsteps walking slowly toward me, but I can't move my head to see who is. It's pinned to table I'm lying face down on, situated on a balcony high above the teeming masses of people so they can all witness my death. My body tenses as I feel a hand touch my shoulder, and I open the eyes I had kept pressed shut, my executioner's face in my own. I try to keep my face emotionless, but I can't keep the look of betrayal out of my eyes as he looks into their ice blue depths. It is him.
He says something to the crowd, but I can't hear him. I don't want to listen. Out of the corner of my eye however, I can see the sun's glare shining off of the weapon I myself forged, the feeling of betrayal growing ever stronger.
I wish I could take back what I'd done. They would have lived perfectly fine in their ignorance. But there's no use in thinking these things any longer. My life is over.
I shut my eyes tight, hearing the familiar whistle of my blade rushing through the air, knowing that my end is near. Then time seems to slow, and I can see again, though my eyes are closed. A whiteness so all encompassing that I can barely feel it as the edge touches the back of neck and continues through.
I wish I could take it all back. but I can't
My name is Delasaris.
This is my story.