I stared at her. She was my only hope. She was everything to me. This world needed her. Her blood could save everyone.

But as her blood flows from her blood, it’s not the gold that I need to see. It’s the color black I see. It’s the color of the darkest nights. It’s the color of our worst fears. It’s the color that will ruin me.

I cried out in anger. I was wrong. No one could know. I would be ruined. The Queen would kill me. There was no way to stop this. I was a doomed man.

I thrust my knife into her in anger. It was my rage carrying me. It was my sorrow that made me scream in fear. It was my distress that caused me to keep thrusting the knife into her. I thrust into her until she stopped moving. Until she stopped screaming. Until she was a lifeless corpse laying before me.

Finally, when my rage subsided, I saw what I did. What a monster I had become. She was dead. She was a lifeless corpse swimming in the black of her own failure.

I sneered at her. I kicked her corpse. Her hair was drenched in her blood. I didn’t cry. I didn’t feel _anything_. I didn’t feel like mourning. I didn’t feel pain. I didn’t feel death. I wasn’t raging.

This pain was nothing. This was nothing. This was freedom.

I looked into her eyes and saw my future go up in flames.