On the morning of Noel, I rose with the sun. I draped a dark cloak over myself and pulled the hood low, carefully concealing my hair and any other telltale features.
I eased the door to my room open, the ancient hinges groaning in the stillness of the early morning. I slipped a hefty purse of coins into the guard’s hand—his eyes widened in surprise, but he said nothing as I quietly made my escape from the estate. Today was the day. The day I would rid the world of Carolina...or die in the attempt.
My father’s schedule was my ally; he was to go directly from the royal castle to the site of the festivities, and he was not slated to return until the early evening. This would give me ample time—time to bring my dark plan to fruition.
A twisted smile curled upon my lips as I moved through the quiet streets, the malice within me simmering like poison in my veins. It ends today, I thought, my mind twisting with malevolent purpose as I made my way towards the capital plaza. On the way, I purchased the instrument of her impending demise—a plain, unremarkable pistol—and concealed it within the folds of my robe, ensuring it remained hidden as I navigated the streets, already beginning to fill with people.
Suddenly, a gust of wind caught my hood, blowing it back. “Ah!” I gasped, hastily pulling it back over my head, my heart lurching with fear. No one saw that, right? My eyes darted around, scanning the crowd for any sign that someone had noticed, when abruptly, a wave of cheers erupted.
What is happening? I wondered, my pulse quickening as I searched for the source of the commotion. My gaze settled on an opulent carriage rolling by, its design oddly familiar. A chill crept down my spine as I squinted, trying to place the nagging feeling. That isn’t...Carolina’s carriage, is it? From my distant vantage, I could make out nothing more than a gray smear in the carriage window, but that shade—that cursed, ashen shade—I would recognize it anywhere. This is the parade, isn’t it? The procession meant to present the people with their new Saint. They were cheering because they were seeing their beloved Saint Carolina up close.
The sight made me sick to my stomach. Every cry of “Lady Saint!” echoed in my ears, each one amplifying the bitter disgust that churned within me. Carolina basked in their adulation as if it were her birthright, her due—every last bit of it. My teeth creaked against each other. Violence, passion, and darkness roiled within me.
But no, it isn’t time yet, I reminded myself, forcing the seething emotions back down. Enjoy it while you can, Carolina. We’ll see who’s laughing in the end. This will be the first and last time you ever taste such universal adoration.
My fingers brushed dangerously close to the trigger of the pistol hidden beneath my cloak. Patience, Flora. Your moment will come. Repeating this like a mantra, I managed to tear my gaze away from the revolting spectacle and continue to push through the crowd towards the plaza.
Soon the parade came to an end, and Carolina, along with her Faith Council, ignited the sacred flame. The towering pillar of fire licked at the very heavens. As the crowd around me erupted in warm, joyous cheers, within me was a frozen lump of nerves. This was it—my only chance. With the Saint having completed her sacred duty, surely the knights guarding her would relax, if only for a moment. If I was going to strike, it had to be now.
I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the moment press down on me. Carolina was passing right by me, close enough that a shot from this range would be impossible to miss. My finger found the trigger of the gun. All I had to do was pull the weapon out, aim, and squeeze my finger—a task so simple, even a child could do it.
So simple, even a child could do it...! And yet...not...me?
My hand remained frozen by my side, buried in the folds of my robe, as if it had turned to stone. I tugged and pulled; it quivered and shook, but my body refused to obey.
Why?
Was this not it? The moment I had spent days, weeks...anticipating, savoring, relishing the taste of it as if it were already on the tip of my tongue? So why now, when I was on the brink of executing my plan, did I...hesitate?
I despised her. Loathed her with every fiber of my being, didn’t I? Yet the act of ridding this world of her would be where I drew the line?
When had I grown so weak?
My body didn’t obey my commands. I stood as still as stone, glaring at Carolina as she passed by. The way she held her head high, the way that serene smile graced her lips, the way she accepted the people’s cheers without a hint of arrogance or self-importance...
It all reminded me of someone I had loved with all of my heart.
Hatred gripped one side of my soul, while love clung to the other. I felt as though I were being torn apart from within, until a realization struck me.
Ah, I see. The truth pierced through me, shattering the walls I had built around it: I couldn’t bring myself to harm her—not when she looked so much like Mother.
The heart-wrenching truth, the one I had spent my entire life fleeing, had finally caught up with me. It had cornered me, leaving no route for escape except the path that led right through the center of it...that painful path known as acceptance.
A wry smile floated up to my lips. As the hatred I harbored for my sister crumbled, so too did the veil that had clouded my vision. For the first time in sixteen long, agonizing years, I saw clearly, I thought clearly. To imagine that it would take me until the very end to realize the folly of my ways, I mused with a hint of self-deprecation. An eerie calm settled over me, as though I were observing myself from afar, watching as the truth unfurled before me.
At my mother’s funeral, sorrow and regret had consumed me. With no one to turn to, no shoulder to cry on, the weight of that sorrow had been too much for my young heart to bear. In desperation, I had twisted that sadness into hatred. In Carolina, I had found a perfect target, an ideal outlet—a sister towards whom I could channel all of these dark, overwhelming emotions so that I could stave off madness. Now I recognized the reprehensibility of my actions, yet I also understood that without them, I might have shattered completely.
It was a means of self-preservation, I realized with detached clarity. In my weakness, I had deceived everyone, including myself. How pathetic I was, how utterly deplorable, I lamented. My mind might have been sharp, my body resilient, but the heart...the heart was so unbearably weak.