grieve no more

𓇢𓆸 𓆤 𖧧 𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𖧧 𓍊𓋼 𔓘

"ℕ𝔼𝔼𝔻𝕃𝔼𝕊𝕊 you if you don't believe me, Vign," Imagen remarked, her voice dripping with disbelief as Vign continued to brush her hair. His eyes, however, betrayed the storm of emotions brewing within him—a blend of betrayal and a fierce resolve. "A Puck... living here," she continued, her disdainful tone thick with condescension. "On Finistere Crossing, of all places. What is this city coming to?" She shook her head in disapproval, the weight of her aristocratic judgment palpable.

With a graceful sweep, Imagen rose from her seat, her every movement an orchestrated display of authority. "My robe," she commanded softly, and Vign obeyed, retrieving the delicate garment draped over the chair. As he helped her slip into it, she dismissed him with a casual, "Mm, that'll be all, Vign. I'll have tea in my room at 7:00."

"Good night, miss," Vign murmured, masking the turmoil within as he left her presence. But once he was alone, the mask slipped. In the solitude of the kitchen, his hand trembled as he opened a drawer, pulling out a knife. The blade's cold edge mirrored the icy resolve in his heart. Stripping off his confining uniform, he spread his wings, letting them unfurl in the freedom of the night air. Clad in his old clothes, he cut off the braid that had symbolized his servitude, the strands falling like a severed tie to the life he was abandoning.

Knife hidden in his boot, Vign climbed out the window into the pouring rain, his wings carrying him swiftly through the darkness. "I'm coming, Melody," he vowed, his voice barely audible over the storm's roar. The night enveloped him as he flew, every beat of his wings a step closer to the truth.

It wasn't long before he reached his destination. Philo's room was dark and silent, its occupant oblivious to the storm raging both outside and within Vign. Silently, he slipped inside, the knife in his hand a stark contrast to the peace of the sleeping figure. In one swift motion, Vign pressed the blade against Philo's throat, jolting him awake. "You lying shit," Vign hissed, his voice trembling with the weight of seven years of anger and grief. "You're alive. Mima Roosan came to me with blood on her hands. She said you and Melody died in her arms. Why did she lie to me?"

Philo's eyes widened in shock, his breath catching as he met Vign's gaze. "Because I told her to," he confessed, his voice heavy with regret.

Vign's grip tightened on the knife, his knuckles white with rage. "We told each other everything. I thought of you as a brother. Why lie to Melody? Did you tell her I was dead too?" His voice cracked under the strain of betrayal. Philo nodded, his expression sorrowful. "I'm sorry, Vign. I never meant to hurt either of you."

"Hurt me?" Vign's voice was a dangerous whisper. "You destroyed me. I waited for you both, and you left me in the ashes of my homeland with nothing but grief for seven years. You took my light away from me." His hand shook as he pressed the blade harder against Philo's throat. "I should kill you right now."

Philo didn't flinch. "Do it," he urged, his voice calm, almost inviting. "Do it."

For a moment, Vign's resolve wavered. He stared down at the man he once called a brother, the man who had betrayed him in the worst possible way. But then, with a sharp intake of breath, he withdrew the blade, stabbing it into the pillow beside Philo's head instead. "You're not worth it," Vign spat, stepping back. "I wish you had died." His voice was cold, final. "And I am not letting you come between Melody and me ever again." With that, he turned and leaped out the window, his wings carrying him back into the night. But this time, his flight was filled with purpose. He was going to find Melody, and nothing would stop him.

The sight of the small building with an open window caught his eye, and his heart skipped a beat. He knew it was her. Silently, he glided inside, his gaze softening as he beheld the woman who had captured his heart. Melody, in a flowing purple nightgown, was sprawled across her desk, her face partially hidden by a cascade of hair. Her wings, delicate and ethereal, fluttered softly in her sleep.

Vign approached her with reverence, brushing the hair from her face. He frowned as he noticed the widow braid, a painful reminder of the years they had lost. Gently, he took it in his hand and pressed a kiss to it. "My darling," he whispered, unbraiding her hair with care. "The song of my heart, you may mourn no more."

Lifting her into his arms, he marveled at how she instinctively nestled closer to him, even in sleep. His heart swelled with a love that had only grown stronger over the years. As he laid her gently on the bed, he promised, "I'll come back, my love. Wait for me." He sealed the vow with a tender kiss on her forehead before slipping out the window, disappearing into the night.

But as he soared back towards his room, a sharp voice shattered his peace. "Oy! We got a flyer!" Vign cursed under his breath, his wings beating faster as he ascended higher into the sky, evading the policeman's watchful gaze. He landed on a nearby rooftop, his breath coming in ragged gasps. After ensuring he hadn't been followed, he finally made his way back to his quarters. Once inside, Vign closed the window and drew the curtains, the warmth of the room a stark contrast to the cold rage still simmering in his heart. His eyes fell on a bracelet tucked in his jacket pocket, a token of love and resilience. The delicate silver links, adorned with tiny gemstones, had been lovingly mended by Melody over the years, each repair a testament to their unbreakable bond. As he fastened it around his wrist, Vign vowed to himself that he would never let Melody slip away from him again.

ଓ༉‧.⭒ֶָ֢⋆.

As the first rays of dawn peeked through the curtains, Melody stirred in her bed, a soft smile playing on her lips. But as she reached for her braid, confusion crept into her expression. It was undone, something she never did. Her hand brushed against a golden spike on her desk, and a memory flickered at the edge of her consciousness, just out of reach.

Later, as she and Philo examined a gruesome crime scene, Philo noted the change in her appearance. "You're not wearing your braid?" he remarked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

"No," Melody replied, a faint smile on her lips. "Funny, but I feel like I don't need to anymore." Philo's eyes flickered with something—nervousness, perhaps—as he asked, "So, you didn't see anyone last night, a certain fae perhaps?" Melody's gaze sharpened. "Philo, what are you not telling me?"

Philo quickly deflected, "Nothing, don't worry." But Melody knew better. She could sense that something had shifted in the shadows, something she was determined to uncover. And as she walked away, the beaded token around her wrist a silent promise, she felt a warmth on her forehead and a flutter in her heart that told her the night held secrets she was only beginning to unravel.

𓇢𓆸 𓆤 𖧧 𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𖧧 𓍊𓋼 𔓘

By: SilverMist707