All the petty acts of revenge I had inflicted upon Carolina came flooding back in a rush of shame and self-loathing. I had committed countless sins, each indefensible, and as the weight of these realizations mounted, my mind reached an inevitable conclusion, one that settled with the finality of a writ of execution.
I must be punished for my sins.
At this point, did I...even deserve to live? Was there any meaning left in my life? I had very nearly attempted to kill my own flesh and blood. It was only an attempt, yes, but the very fact that I had been swayed so close to such an act spoke volumes about my own irredeemability.
“I... I must die.” The roars of the crowd drowned out the sound of my soft, bone-chilling words, but the thought echoed endlessly in my mind.
My gaze drifted back towards Carolina. By now, she had long returned to the safety of her knights. I felt my grip on the pistol tighten. Here is the means to achieve my penitence, I thought blankly. Spinning on my heel, I began to weave my way through the throng of people. As I pushed through the crowded confines of the plaza, I passed by the dais upon which the guest of honor was seated—and I noticed my father.
Did our eyes meet? I couldn’t be sure, jostled as I was by the sea of bodies around me.
I’ll pretend they didn’t. Even if he had seen me, it was impossible that he could have recognized this hooded figure as his daughter. No, it didn’t matter. Clinging to that hastily constructed and slipshod conclusion, I tugged at the edges of my hood and quickened my pace.
I arrived at a deserted alleyway. With a numb sense of detachment, I pulled the pistol from beneath my cloak, relieved that now my body was willing to obey. No fear of death remained, only the crushing weight of guilt which I was desperate to escape. Without hesitation, my hand rose before me. The barrel of the gun pressed against my temple like a cold kiss of death.
In that moment, a profound sense of relief washed over me, as if the entire tragedy of my life was drawing to a close, and now I could finally find catharsis, a release from the torment that had consumed me for sixteen long years.
“I’m sorry, Carolina,” I whispered through numb lips. “And Father, for everything I’ve done. Forgive me, but I’m going to Mother now.”
The words spilled from me like a final confession. My eyes fluttered closed; I was at peace with the world. My finger found the trigger, gently squeezed, and...
Footsteps pounded towards me.
“Flora?! What are you doing?! Drop the gun. Drop it now!” a familiar voice thundered. The command startled me, making me hesitate for just a moment—but that moment was all he needed. The gun was knocked from my hand, clattering to the ground with a sharp metallic sound.
My eyes snapped open. “F-Father? What are you doing here? How...?”
“That is my question to you!” he roared back. “How did you escape your room? You had guards—what happened to the guards?!”
It was the first time I had ever seen him show such raw emotion, and it was neither disappointment nor sadness—but pure, unadulterated fury. His anger wasn’t about my defiance of his orders or the potential tragedy he had just thwarted, but it seemed rooted in his utter and apparent disbelief at the sheer stupidity of my actions.
I recoiled at this new, unfamiliar side of him, my usual composure slipping away. Normally, I would have brushed him off with a smile and a few well-crafted lies, but this...
“No, it doesn’t matter how you managed to escape!” he bellowed, jolting me from my thoughts. “What were you doing just now? Answer me!”
His tone was powerful, authoritative, and almost instinctively, I found myself speaking the truth.
“The world...” My voice was barely above a whisper. “The world doesn’t need someone like me. The only way for me to atone for my crimes against Carolina...is death.”
I couldn’t summon the strength to temper my words with wit or soften my tone with grace. Father’s eyes widened, his fury momentarily replaced with shock. “You wish...to atone?” he asked, his voice now low, almost disbelieving. “You recognize that your actions against Carolina were unjust?”
Ah. Of course. He couldn’t have known about my change of heart. The revelation seemed to physically knock the wind out of him. I lowered my gaze, unable to bear the sight of his thunderstruck expression. Instead I stared down at the grimy cobblestones beneath my feet. “Yes,” I said simply. “I wouldn’t blame you if you were to believe this to be another one of my lies, but I have come to see the truth of things. My actions... They were nothing more than the desperate outbursts of a girl too lost in her own emotions to know any better.”
“I see,” he murmured, his voice almost lost to the wind. “No... No, I believe you, daughter. But know this—” He took a step forward, the heel of his boot tapping sharply on the pavement. “You will not atone for this sin by seeking death. Your atonement will come through living...and facing what you’ve done.”
A pair of hands descended upon my shoulders, grasping them tight. I looked up into my father’s face—his expression was as serious as I had ever seen it. The emerald glint in his eyes pierced through me, reaching the very core of my being, forcing me to take a step back.
But this alley had no escape. My back met cold, hard brick...
“Live?” I stammered. “I... I can’t. I tried to kill Carolina today, you know? I stopped myself just short of the act, but I was there, in the plaza, ready, waiting...”
“You were... What?!”
Horror, shock, and disgust flashed across his face.
This confession should have been enough to convince him that I was beyond redemption. He and I were too much alike for love to ever grow between us. No doubt he favored Carolina, who took after Mother—my sister was everything I was not. After what I had done, I had forfeited any right to exist.
“Let me go, Father.” My voice cracked, choked with emotion. “Leave me to my fate.”
I placed my hands on his, trying to pry them away, but his grip was unyielding, like iron.
“You have committed a crime that, by all rights, should see you facing a public beheading. There is no denying that,” Father said.
Good, then get on with it—!
“But I refuse to be the one who sends you to your death! I am not strong enough to condemn my own flesh and blood to the block. Hear me, Flora—even if the entire world were to demand your life, I would stand between you and their fury. I will protect you from everyone, even if it costs me everything!”
What? His words echoed in my ears, louder than the pounding of my heart. At that moment, he wasn’t Duke Sanchez or prime minister of Celestia—he was just a father, desperate to keep his daughter alive. His plea, so raw and frantic, broke something inside me. The flood of tears that followed felt like they had been held back for a lifetime.