Acrid Klexos

…

 

…

 

…

 

I can’t sleep.

 

My iron plates clink and clack as I turn over in the bed, loosely dragging the quilt drapped atop with me. I dare not open my eyes and try to slow my breathing. Perhaps if I can trick my body into falling asleep, my mind will follow suit.

 

…

 

…

 

…

 

…

 

I wish I had not done that.

 

It is hard to think about anything else these days. Her presence beside me in bed. Her smile when I wake up in the morning. Her warm, passionate touch on my cold, unforgiving steel. The growl of her voice in battle, the thumming purr in the dead of night.

 

My tail flicks upwards, and my foot twitches, trying to find that familiar spot of warmth and comfort. It is not there.

 

She is not there.

 

…

 

…

 

No, that can’t be it. Please let that not be it. It must be the bed.

 

I throw off the covers, my eyes opening to the gentle spill of moonlight through the stained glass doors to my right. My horns graze the wall as I drag my head off its pillow, my legs dangling off the edge of the mattress. I sit at the edge for a moment, contemplating if I should return to the warmth of the quilt, the cold air tempting my every plated scale.

 

No. It’s where he slept.

 

That was the final straw. I hop off, a look of disdain involuntarily passing across my face as I pace across the room, my legs weary from yet another restless passing. But I pay them no mind. Not that my head could think of anything else but…

 

Think about her. Not him. Her. Not him.

 

Her smile. Her face. Her moves. Her dance. Her passion. Her love. Her children. My children. His children. His–

 

I hiss, a sound that startles even me as it pierces the silence, cutting through the quiet room angrily. It sounds foreign. It is not a sound I would make. Surely not.

 

I find my claws gripping themselves, balling themselves into fists, the tension nearly popping the plates off the backs of my wrists. I stare down at them, the things I used to call my own.

 

It is hard to do that now, when–

 

As I pace near the windows, a sliver of moonlight covers them, a beam of red light spilling through one of the colored pains on my left, coloring my pristine white claws with a filthy shade of blood.

 

My eyes widen and my heart burns. My teeth clench and my muscles twitch.

 

My mind is aflame, and I move without thinking.

 

“HRAAAAAARGH–!” I scream as I swing my tail in a violent arc. The force of the attack melts through the window, the sound of shattering glass ripping through the air as the fragments are flung past the balcony railing, into the void below.

 

My left hand shoots out, gripping the lone doorframe, while my right follows it with a clenched punch that shreds its hinges, tearing it from its boltings on the floor. Holding the wrought metal frame, I swing it at the remainder of the glass, the stifled screams of a servant somewhere else in the hall barely reaching my ears.

 

When the tinkling of shards against the floor quiets, I throw the twisted bars to the side, hearing the bent, broken doorframe clatter against the ground. My breathing is wild, my mind howling like a raging beast, the same one that had–

 

“NO, THAT WASN’T ME–!” I roar, raising a foot and slamming it into the ground, a thunderous bang reverberating through the room that blasts the shards off the balcony, leaving the wall clean open, and the tiled floor cracked.

 

I turn, jaw set in a frenzied state. The bed.

 

His bed.

 

I do not even notice that there were bits of ceramic and glass embedded in my foot. My claws are raised, and my eyes do not see the carnage.

 

CRASH.

 

SMASH.

 

SHRRRRRRRRRIP.

 

CRUNCH.

 

SMASH.

 

CRACK.

 

CRUNCH.

 

CRASH.

 

CRACK.

 

Pant. Pant.

 

“RAAAAAGH–!”

 

CRUNCH.

 

SMASH.

 

KLANG.

 

Pant. Pant.

 

Crunch.

 

Pant.

 

Pant.

 

Pant…

 

…

 

…

 

…

 

…

 

I stood over the wreckage, staring down at a half-torn quilt draped over the remains of what used to be the bed of an emperor. Splinters mixed with fragments of broken tiles formed a thin dust that carpeted the ruined floor like a pool of blood around the body of an innocent piece of furniture. The frame was smashed completely; hardly any of the pieces were larger than even my own fist.

 

I stood, breathing heavily, the heavy must of the ornate room mixed with the suffocating fog of debris filling my nostrils, until it was hard to do even that. My brain was alight with adrenaline, my eyes hardly seeing for all the white and red and blood and pain and fear and panic and anger and fury and death and death and death and death and death and death–

 

My heart skipped a beat, and my eyes widened, staring down at the mess I had made.

 

“No, no…” I whispered, raising my claws to my face.

 

There were no glass windows, and yet they were still stained cold red.

 

I hiccuped, my lungs hitting a snag. I whirled around, my tail scattering fluff and pillow stuffing to the air as I stepped through the wall onto the balcony, collapsing onto the railing as my panting worsened. The metal around my breast began to constrict, squeezing at the organs inside until it felt like I was dying, and then some. My knees trembled, and I found myself propped on my elbows as I leaned over the edge.

 

My manic eyes looked up, and saw the kingdom I now ruled. Selenia, the land of Tsar Mitrofan.

 

The contents of my stomach hurled itself over the balcony, though I did not need the distant wet splat to tell my dinner had left me.

 

And so the moon watched with pity as I tried to collect myself, sitting with my back to the stone bars, holding my legs with one claw and wiping my snout with my other. I closed my eyes, the clack of my helmet touching the stone greeting me as I rested my head back. I focused on my breathing.

 

One…

 

Two…

 

One…

 

Two…

 

One…

 

Two…

 

Two…

 

Two…

 

Two…

 

Don’t say three. Don’t even think it.

 

Three.

 

---

 

“You know, counting to ten’s always worked better for me.”

 

Sigh. “I don’t need you to criticize my calming strategies, Kal, I get enough of that being Guildmaster already.”

 

“I’m just sayin’, give it a shot one day! Lighten’ up!”

 

A roll of my eyes. “You’ve just saved three kids from bandits, delivered medicine to a sick town, and changed the life of a couple of fans by giving them autographs, and this is all you want to talk about?”

 

“Just another Tuesday.”

 

“I rather envy your Tuesdays, Mel.”

 

“I’m sure most people do. They tell you about all the bruises and battles and bugs and random habits you start developing.”

 

I raised an eyebrow. Mel sighed.

 

“Give it a few seconds.”

 

…Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap–

 

“Kal, you’re doin’ it again.”

 

“What? Oh, dang it–”

 

Laughter erupted from the three of them.

 

“Happy feet, eh?”

 

“Every time I think I got control of my dang legs again it starts tappin’!”

 

“Hey, you only broke them half a year ago, I’m sure it’ll take a bit longer for them to forget the physical trauma.”

 

“I’m not gonna forget all the jokes you make at my expense.”

 

“We both know you’ve made twice as many jokes about your feet as me.”

 

“…Touche.”

 

More laughter.

 

“But yeah,” Kallias said, wiping a tear from his eye, “fame ain’t all that. I’d rather spend time with my buddies.”

 

“Heh, got less and less time for that lately.”

 

“Somethin’ wrong?”

 

“No no, just Guildmaster stuff. You know. It’s taxes season.”

 

“Aaaah. Right.”

 

“The smell of paper has never been so utterly repulsive.”

 

“And your sarcasm has never been this sharp before.”

 

Melchior stiffled a giggle as Mitrofan gave Kallias an unamused look.

 

“What? You were always real serious and stuff!”

 

“Mel is literally standing right there and you call me the boring one?”

 

“And how many parties have you gone to, Mitrofan?”

 

“More than you ever have I bet Melch–”

 

“That weren’t formal gatherings for politicians and nobility and whatnot?”

 

“…”

 

“That’s what I thought.”

 

Man, if only I could wipe that dumb smirk off his face right now.

 

“Aw, cheer up Mittens!”

 

“I hate that nickname.”

 

Kallias ignored him. “You’ll get a moment soon enough! How’s about a triple date, eh? Mel’s wedding’s coming up, romance is hiiiiiigh in the air~!”

 

A grin could not help but come over my face. “You know, I think I’d like that. Gonna have to be careful though, got family responsibilities to take care of too.”

 

“How long?”

 

“No idea. Doctors said the second egg’s due any day now, but if she’s careful she can party. I doubt you’ll have that date before she lays it anyways. The child we already have is what I was talking about. Gotta make sure the house won’t be a mess if we leave and come back.”

 

Mel stretched, raising his arm over his head. “The kid’s old enough to be alone now?”

 

“Oh, no, no, we have a babysitter. Granted, doesn’t stop the mess, but at least they won’t get themselves hurt.”

 

“Oh. Who–?”

 

“Kasimir, actually.”

 

“ Prince Kasimir? The literal heir to the throne?”

 

“You’d be surprised. He’s not that bad.”

 

“At babysitting or being a regular person?”

 

I rolled my eyes. “Does it matter?”

 

“Guess not. Both are good I suppose.”

 

“Well, he was raised by the best.”

 

Synchronized nods. “Wonder what the Tsar’s doing these days. Haven’t seen ‘im for a while. Kallias, Mitrofan, you guys know what–?”

 

“You know, I was thinkin’ the same thing!”

 

I shrugged. “Not much, honestly. He’s gettin’ old, told me he’s thinking about passing on the crown in a few years.”

 

“To Leo?”

 

“Not many other choices, are there? But yeah. He says he’s first gonna make put some ‘insurance’ in place to make sure Leonid’s reign isn’t threatened, and then, well… Yeah. New Tsar.”

 

“Tsar Leonid,” Kallias mumbled, testing the feel of the words on his lips. He rubbed his snout with a leafy claw. “Gonna have to get used to that one.”

 

“Well, things change,” Melchior shrugged. “We just gotta get used to them.”

 

“Not too fast, though, right?”

 

“Haha, sure Mitt. Hopefully not too fast.”

 

And for the last time in that memory, warmth bubbled up in my chest as the smiles of my comrades reassured me.

 

---

 

So why does my heart feel so cold now?

 

I opened my eyes, a salty brine spreading across my tongue. I licked my lips.

 

Tears.

 

…

 

…

 

…I wiped them away. They were not my friends now, they were my enemies.

 

After all I had done for them, and all they did for me… and they would not even support their friend in my time of need…

 

Slowly, my feet scraped against the balcony floor as I struggled back to a standing position, leaning against the railing for balance. I lifted my chin, and gazed upon the view before me. The crescent moon poured soft light upon the many buildings below, street lamps burning faithfully on half-lit streets. Darkness spread its curtains over many of the windows, but a few were still bright, little fireflies lazily hovering about in the harmonious night.

 

The past could have gone many different ways, and I hated this one. But it was not something I could change, not now. Not ever. The future was all I had to work with, and… whatever the old Tsar left for me to pick up.

 

This was my kingdom now, not his. And I would make sure of that.

 

Once I’m done with this place, there won’t be an inch of it that’ll remind me–or ANYONE for that matter–of that bastard.

 

Maybe then I can finally find them again…

 

Distant thumping caught my attention behind me.

 

“Nikita,” I grumbled. “Don’t want him seeing me like this. He’d… he’d…”

 

He would understand.

 

“…Damn it all.”

 

For one last moment, I leaned over the railings, gravity tempting me to take the plunge.

 

I spat, letting the sour, acrid taste burn my throat as the acid soared into the depths below. I watched it fall with a glaring eye, a bitter part of me hurling over the ramparts of my personal fortress.

 

Something symbolic perhaps.

 

I did not care anymore.

 

And as I turned my back on the balcony, a cloud obscured the moon, and my kingdom fell into darkness.