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   Chapter 164 No.164

The WeatherMaker Hearts Desire By Lady Lilium Characters: 4819

Updated: 2018-07-11 19:03


The door swung shut behind him, and Farrell listened to the echoing silence, alone with only himself, and the statue.

She was so beautiful, so perfect, like Ramana had been, like Amaia would have grown to be….if she were….

Farrell's hand went to his mouth as he began to tremble. What if she was really dead, and they were searching for nothing? What if all their troubles had been in vain, what if Amaia had suffered, as Ramana had before she died? And now Arlen… his last remaining brother….

Farrell sunk to his knees, burying his face in his hands.

'Oh gods…..gods I've failed them all…!'

Tears ran from his eyes, he balled his fists, nails digging into his scalp as he ran his fingers through his hair.

'I'm alone…' he sobbed in despair, '…completely alone…'

He fell forwards, curled up on his hands and knees now with his face buried. Nothing else in the world mattered now. There was nothing left for him, no reason to live anymore.

'I've failed them all!' he wailed. 'Gods help me for all the wrong I've done…'

He sat back on his heels, crying opening, eyes red, cheeks streaked with tears.

'Gods help me….' he whispered.

He reached a shaking hand to the inside of his coat, pulling forth a knife.

He stared down at the clean and shining blade, gritting his teeth and rocking back on his heels again, staring about the small and silent room as if looking for a way out.

'Gods…' he sobbed, red faced. 'Oh gods…' he brushed his hair back, running his wrist across his forehead, now damp with sweat.

He forced himself to calm, to steady his breath. His body slumped, and his head hung. He lifted the knife again in a hand; then gripped the hilt with both hands.

The metal was cool in his touch.

He gritted his teeth, shoulders trembling.

He turned the knife over, so that the sharpened tip was pointed towards him. He pressed the tip to his skin, between his ribs and pointed up towards his heart, feeling the sharp sting of the blade as it dug into his flesh.

He drew a slow breath to steady himself, breathing slowly and deeply several times.

Farrell stopped suddenly, his body frozen.

The knife slipped from his hands and clattered to the floor. He threw his head up towards the statue Kachi.

His body trembled as he stared at the carved face, emotionless, with eyes unseeing.

Farrell bowed his head again. He didn't reach for the knife,

but instead clapped his hands, fingers weaving together.

I've nothing to lose Farrell thought to himself as he stared at the floor beneath him.

'Please my goddess Kachi. Answer my prayers….'

He met with the healers a short time later.

'Have you reached a decision?' the old healer asked Farrell.

'Yes' he choked. 'I think…..what you say is best.'

The old healer nodded sadly.

'I will do it' she said.

'No' Farrell spoke up. 'I will…he is my brother after…..' he trailed off.

'Only if you're absolutely sure.'

'Yes' Farrell whispered. 'I will…' he held his breath, forcing himself to speak calmly. 'I will do it.'

Farrell turned away, heading back to the room his brother lay.

He entered the room slowly, and faced his brother. The door closed behind him.

Arlen lay on his side in the same position as he had been before. Farrell watched him for the longest time, before reaching down to his belt, and unbuckling it, struggling with his crippled hand.

He pulled the belt free, holding it in one hand as he stepped slowly across the room towards Arlen, never taking his eyes from him.

He stood behind him, heart racing in his chest, palms sweating. His fingers twitched around the leather of the belt he held in his hand.

Farrell took a deep and steady breath to calm himself. He reached forwards, slipping the belt beneath Arlen's neck as he lay, listening to the sound of the metal buckle clinking as he did so.

The belt was around Arlen's neck now. Farrell hesitated, watching his brother closely. His heart was soaring now, the blood pumping loudly in his ears.

He took another steady breath; then pulled the belt. But before he could pull it tight, a hand stopped him. Arlen's hand.

Farrell hesitated, eyes wide with shock as he stared down at Arlen.

Arlen rolled onto his back, staring up at Farrell calmly, with a stony expression. 'You're trying to kill me?' he whispered.

Farrell stepped back, the belt slipping from his hands as Arlen made to stand.

'I've no strength to fight with you' Arlen said to him as he rose. 'Not now.'

'I've no wish to fight with you' Farrell whispered back, still in shock. 'I thought…you were dying…'

Arlen looked at his own hands; then touched his own chest and stomach. 'I hurt' he whispered. 'The pain….it was greater than I thought possible to endure. But it's gone now….now I feel nothing….'

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