Chapter 21

The knife rested in my hand as I waited for instructions from the godlike figure who stood in front of me.

"Plunge the knife through your heart, my king." He requested.

I broke our eye contact to look down at the knife. I had a moment of panic. Where did he get my knife? What's going on? My scared thoughts raced through my mind as I returned to reality for a brief moment.

He put his fingers under my chin and pushed them up, returning eye contact with him. My panic stopped when I looked into his magical eyes. My fear washed away, like water down a waterfall.

"Show your love, my king. Give me your heart." He brushed his hand against my face. He then unbuttoned the top layers of my shirt, revealing my upper chest.

I took the knife and tightened my grip on its handle. I pointed it towards myself. He took my hand and moved it up, pointing it directly at my heart. His soft skin brushed against mine. His touch felt orgasmic.

"Carve it out for me, my king." His voice echoed in my mind.

I pushed it closer to my heart. The tip of the knife rested onto my bare chest. I began to puncture myself with it. Blood began to slowly drip down on me. The shock of the pain pulled my eyes off him. It knocked me out of his deadly trance.

The song stopped. I chucked the knife away from me, realizing what I was doing. I was about to cut my own heart out. I was about to die by my own hand.

"NOO!" His voice turned from a soft lullaby to a horrifying shriek. His handsome looks faded to a shriveling, skinny, ghost like figure.

I screamed. He hissed. I took the knife and attempted to slice his legs, but he had disappeared.

I couldn't process what had just happened. It didn't feel real, it had felt like a dream. His eyes had kept me in a trance. His beautiful, violet eyes.

It was then I realized what he was. A siren. In all stories I heard of them, I heard they were at sea. It wasn't true, it was quite the opposite. They were desert creatures, wondering the wasteland. They were looking for hearts to take.

I dabbed my small chest wound with my shirt. The bleeding was minimal, I didn't dive the knife too deep. The hard part was going to be keeping the sand out of it.

I couldn't risk hearing his song again. I kept my ears covered as I went back to search for the small camp of stuff I had left. I didn't know how far I had gone, or what direction I went in for that matter.

I wondered all night. I felt my mouth dry. From head to toe, I was filled with sand. I had sand in places I didn't even know could have sand in them. Every crack and crevice.

The sun came out to punish me. I needed to find a source of water. I stumbled through the barren wasteland, searching for a brown satchel and a sword.

My head began to pound. Sweat continued to soak me. I was full of sweat and sand. I was an exiled king for over a year. I had lived in squalor for over a year, and this was the most disgusting I had ever felt.

I had found my stuff after a day of searching. I never thought I would have seen it again. I chugged water and attempted to clean my chest cut. I took the In that very same spot is where I passed out that night.

The walking continued the next day. I needed a creature that could help me. That certainly wouldn't be the siren.

Awaken what I already had, I thought. I had nothing in the desert, no connection to it. What was I supposed to awaken? What creature could possibly help me?

I wish I could have spoken to Johnny herself. I wish I knew what she had found.

Suddenly, something small crawled up me. It resembled a scorpion, but was bigger, and it almost matched the color of the sand. I kicked it off and yelped.

There wasn't only one. There was an army of them. They camouflaged into the sand, I couldn't see them. I ran through the sand in attempt to get away, but the sand was to difficult to run in. They latched onto my body and clothes and began to sting me. One in the face, the other in the arm. It's sting plunged through my clothes and dug into my skin, like the dagger was supposed to do to my heart.

I fell to the ground as they swarmed me. I couldn't move. The sun made me squint my eyes before I shut them and called out in pain. No one would hear me.

I jerked forward. I didn't know how long I had been there. The scorpions were gone. I unbuttoned the top of my shirt, my wound.

The wound was full of sand. My chest wound was filled with yellow and green pus. The blood looked brown and crusted. It had a putrid odor.

I was burning up.

I tried pouring a bit of water on it, but it did nothing. I panted in the sand. I was running a fever, and I couldn't escape the burning sun.

I pushed myself up. Charles was there.

"Charles! You came! Please, I need your help." I pleaded to him.

He wasn't sweating, despite he was wearing his stuffy clothes. I pulled the paper out of my ears to hear him.

"No. Suffer." He said, kicking sand at me.

"What? Charles, I had helped you. Please, help me. My cut appears to be infected, I think I'm going to die. Please." I begged.

He wasn't alone. Mavis was there too. Her hair was long again. She was wearing her white dress from our wedding day.

"You deserve to die alone in the desert." She hissed.

"Yeah, I agree with her, Princey. A weak death suits you."

I could recognize the voice anywhere. Samuel. His hair was longer as well. He was wearing battle armor and his small, braided crown on his head.