A Hero, You Will Be

Her white gloves covered with cuts and blood, she places one last fragment of a purple gemstone on top of the heap she piled up. Still unsatisfied, she takes one smaller shard, leaning in as she begins to rub its sharp edge over a larger fragment.

    The screeches don’t even make her wince; she’s too exhausted.

    At her feet, part of the sand, made out of crystal dust, is sullied with crimson specks. Remnants of blood she didn’t manage to bury completely.

    Screech, screech.

    She purses her lips. The shard in her grasp slipped again, a scratch extending now beyond the fourth letter. Despite it, she soon resumes.

    Around her, mist has risen, as if replacing night’s shadows. As if trying to conceal the debris of flesh and gem pillars scattered around.

    Screech, screech.

    With a sigh, she finally leans back, reaching out to rub the back of her hand against her forehead, wiping the sweat away. The result isn’t perfect. Some lines shaping the letters are too long. The second letter is barely readable. But, at least, there’s now a name engraved on the heap of gems.

    Lezzar.

    Remaining silent for a while, only the wind dares to whisper, waving her long beetroot ponytails, waving her moss green ribbons.

“If it weren’t for you, I would be dead by now.” She thinks to herself. “But… I didn’t wish for this either.”

    As dawn begins to chase the darkness away, the girl removes her sullied gloves. She reaches out her hands before her, intertwining her fingers.

“You are my hero. I won’t forget you.”

    How long did it take her to honour what remains of him? Seconds feel like hours. Hours feel like days.

    But it isn’t enough.

    It won’t be enough.

    Closing her eyes, the girl frowns, focused. Her hands still held in prayer, words finally come to her lips. Words in a tongue that is not hers. Or, rather, it is hers alone.

    All she wants is to appease his soul.

    All she hopes is that his memories can survive.

    Memories? But she knows nothing about him. Had she truly known him, maybe she wouldn’t have approached him. Had she truly known him, she probably wouldn’t have uttered these words. Had she truly known him, this story wouldn’t be about to occur.

    A hero.

    Little does she know that the one she calls this way was anything but.