It was everywhere. The body was nothing more than a hollow shell, the kid’s once deep brown skin now a dull dirty yellow. The blood that had given him life coated the walls, floor, even the ceiling, seeping into the alabaster of throne room that was dutifully cleaned every day, slowly creeping up. The blood danced mid air surrounding its dead owner, the droplets waltzing slowly towards the ceiling. And the heart, oh the heart. Darlin’ stared at it in awe of the strange object she had plucked from the teasing bully. The blood had been coating her for only a few moments before it had taken to the air, along with everything else that wasn’t held down, the throne creaking loudly. But the heart was surrounded by the heavenly light that surrounded herself held merely inches from her hands, yet she still turned it if she held it. She was smiling. She didn’t know what it meant, Valar was sure she couldn’t, the unwell six year old would have no idea of the fate that would befall her for the murder of the Leader’s son. He doubted she even knew it was murder. He should take her from here as he should have done a long time ago. But the power that now surrounded her kept him still. It was not the gruesome murder that had taken place in front of him that took his breath away. He’d seen too much, from such a young age, and caused so much of it for it to effect him. It was the smiling girl. He had never seen something so beauty and perfect as the innocence on her face at the site of such gruesomeness. It wasn’t delight but ignorance, something he could only wish for. She feet were barely on the floor, her red cloth dress bleached white by the light that burst from her soul, the power made her hair weightless moving as if under water. And her eyes, they shone bright gold, highlighting the small chubby cheeks of her face and drool on her chin. No creature of such purity should have the power to bring men down if as they were flies. The door to the throne room swung open and closed again and Valar looked round. the Leader looked at the sight of his son’s floating boy with such calmness and his daughter holding her half-brother’s drying heart as if it was a normal sight to behold. but Valar could feel it, the blackness flooding from the Leader and coating himself, the word repeating over and over:
he should have been quicker.