Pitiful

Atlas stood watch while Primrose slept. Her injuries had been severe and she needed time to recuperate. The duo was located in the mountains of Hurk, a tall mountain range surrounded by thick trees that touched the sky. Even though it was day time, the duo had to get a fire started. The sky was covered completely by the leaves of trees. One could not tell what time it was unless they climbed to the top.

Don't be mistaken, the sky is one of the most beautiful things in the world, but it is not the only beautiful thing on the planet. The deep green hue of the forest was what made travelers want to enter the forest in the first place. It was a fresh hue; a hue hardly found anywhere else.

Unfortunately for travelers, the mountains of Hurk were cursed. A large-scale war had taken place during the second century where many knights died without being buried; allowing their skeletons to return from the dead. Their death had been of misery. The ultimate goal of these creatures had been to multiply. To create more of themselves and seduce anyone they could into their lullaby they sang at night. Like sirens.

Atlas sat on a rock, his hands hadn't stopped shaking since the death of King Zar. He hadn't told Primrose what had happened, well, mostly because she had been passed out for most of the journey to the mountains of Hurk. He had tried patching her up as best as he could and during the process he noticed some very deep gashes. She would be immobile for three days. Lucky for her, a requirement for being a knight is to have the magical ability to heal faster, which some individuals are born with.

"If only I hadn't split off…" Atlas whispered.

Tears made their way to the edges of his eyes, but receded. He couldn't cry.

"If only I hadn't gone back for a dumb horse."

Hungus was tied up nearby and at these words, he neighed aggressively.

"..."

Nothingness filled the earth. Not silence, but nothingness. This is what Atlas felt. He felt nothing. He felt that all the morals his parents had taught him meant nothing. That it hadn't mattered after all. That it was all pointless. Nothingness.

He had broken the rules, after all.

Atlas had been too busy in his thoughts to notice something creeping up on him. A beautiful woman stood behind him…naked, and with ill intent in her head.

"Oh sweet heart…"

Atlas turned to look at the woman and immediately averted his eyes.

"Put on some clothes!" He screamed.

Primrose stirred in her sleep.

"You're in pain…in pain…"

The woman wrapped her arms around Atlas' shoulders.

"In such misery…in such misery…"

Something radiated within Atlas. It was as if the woman had used her singing to unlock a deep cabinet within him.

"You want someone to help you…help you…"

The woman reached over and lifted Atlas' chin. She made him turn to face her.

"You don't…want to be swallowed by the darkness."

Atlas clenched his fist.

"I-I killed someone! There's no going back!"

"There's always a way back…a way back."

The woman's hands made their way down to his stomach.

"Let me have you and I'll give you my all."

Tears formed in Atlas' eyes. He looked deep into the woman's eyes.

"I-"

"AHHHHHH!"

A blade found its place in between the eyes of the woman, who looked up at it in confusion before falling backwards. Blood trickled from her forehead. Atlas turned to the source of the scream and spotted Primrose, grabbing her side, and holding a throwing knife. He returned his attention back to the woman.

Her beauty had disappeared and all that remained was a skeletal figure. Its bones were full of maggots and the calcium looked like it would disintegrate at any moment.

"Wh-wh-wh?" Atlas stuttered.

Primrose shakily got up and leaned against her sword.

"Where have you brought us, Atlas?"

Primrose leaned against Atlas as the duo made their way down the mountains of Hurk. The trees were too narrow to ride Hungus on, so Atlas commanded the horse to follow them closely behind. Primrose stared at Atlas' face, which had completely changed from the last time she had been awake. It was full of worry. Worry for her. Something about that touched Primrose's heart.

Atlas' head snapped to the left and then to the right. Primrose at first hadn't known why, but she soon understood that it was the undead that were calling out to him. The undead had several ways of attacking. The most common were physical attacks, for those with strong egos. Then there were magical attacks, for those with extreme happiness, and finally, for those with strong guilt, there were mental attacks. Each of these individual attacks fed on the victim's being.

Primrose wondered what Atlas felt guilty of and why he felt guilty. Primrose, of course, couldn't hear what they were saying to him, but she could only imagine.

"Atlas…"

His head twitched left and then right.

"Atlas!"

Suddenly, his head snapped to Primrose.

"Y-yeah?"

"How near are they?"

"They're close. Very close."

"How many of them?"

"I don't know, but there's a lot."

Primrose stopped and lifted her sword.

"Then we fight."

Atlas looked at her with concern.

"I don't think we're in the state where we can fight-"

"Doesn't matter."

Primrose looked deep into the forest.

"No one messes with my friend and gets away with it."

She turned her attention to Atlas, just to see him look away, flustered.

"Hey," she said as she grabbed Atlas' shoulders, "I'm strong. I can do this. We can do this, but you have to rely on me, too. Okay?"

"You're injured," Atlas pointed out.

"Wow, thanks, genius," Primrose replied sarcastically.

Atlas tilted his head, as if not getting it.

"Just trust me, okay?"

Atlas nodded quietly. Silence fell in between them for a while until Atlas broke the silence.

"They're coming."

"Use light magic."

"How?"

"Illuminate the area."

"Lurmis!"

The forest burst into brightness and yelps were heard all around.

"Is it hurting them?" Atlas asked.

"You really don't know much outside of the elven world, huh?"

"I guess not."

"That's why I told you we should fight. Come on, help me stab them through the eye."

"Through the eye? They're skeletons!"

"The restless part of them lies in the eyes. Now, come on. The light won't hold them for long."

Atlas helped Primrose over to the first body. She leaned her weight on the small elf and used her free hand to stab the undead in the eye. Then she went for the other. As soon as she was done, the skeleton started disintegrating.

Atlas and Primrose stood over the disintegrating skeleton with silence. The light emitting from Atlas' staff made the moment peaceful.

"These skeletons are knights that died and weren't buried centuries ago," Primrose said.

Primrose turned her attention to Atlas and was surprised. Tears were falling down his face and onto the ground. Soft, wet tears.

"How pitiful…" he said with a sad smile, "they didn't want to fight and yet…they did and died for it without being recognized."

"How pitiful!" he repeated, his tears making their way onto what remained of the skeleton.

Atlas wiped his face.

"Sorry," he said.

"Pitiful," she murmured.

She leaned on him once again. A smell of wood filled her nose. It comforted her.

"You're right," she said, "How pitiful."

A figure was perched silently on the top of a tree. Below him stood an elf and a young human girl. The aforementioned was injured with several deep gashes all over her body. The elf seemed untouched. Wind made the tree sway from which he was perched, but he was used to that. He was used to the wind causing him to sway, so he didn't lose his balance. Instead, he watched calmly. His actions didn't have sound to them and his breathing was non-existent. If one were to look at him they would doubt he was even alive.

The figure took out his weapon and aimed it at the elf. The elf was the most dangerous one in the duo. He knew that. He knew that the elf had some serious magical power that not every elf had. His way of connecting with the mana around him was amazing. So was his stamina. Definitely a naturally born talent. He had to be killed off before he became any stronger because after all, that's what he had been hired to do.

The human girl was in a pitiful state. She could easily be captured and taken back to Pratt. The figure readied his weapon, but then immediately lowered it. The elf was crying. Crying for the undead he had helped kill. How could he- How could he do that after slaying so many people-

The figure gripped his weapon in anger. This was no ordinary mage. It was a mage with great conflict within him. One capable of justifying murder while still remaining the same person he was before. This was Atlas Woodsbarrow. The figure took out a flask from his pocket and downed it. The bitter taste of scotch filled his throat and he smiled.

"Maybe you're something else, eh? I better let you live a bit longer."

After slaying all of the undead and saying his grace, Atlas found himself lying against a tree and staring up at the leaves. He could just make out the moon from a small gap in the tree. Primrose had told him she'd take the first watch, so he could rest. Atlas closed his eyes and drifted off into a deep sleep.

While he slept, Primrose limped over to the young elf and wrapped her cloak around him. He deserved to be extra cozy. The princess admired his cozy face while he slept and his pudgy cheeks. At that moment, Primrose felt like a mother watching over her sleeping son, or rather, perhaps a better example would be a princess looking at her sleeping hero.

She didn't feel love for him…yet…but she did feel admiration for him. For going this far for someone else. Part of it could have been that he didn't have a choice, but she liked to think that he did it out of kindness. She wasn't wrong.

"How pitiful," she whispered, "you poor thing. In so much pain just for me."