Decembris 12, 373: “He shall be the death of me or I… the death of him.”

June 3rd, 2017

Decembris 12, 373

Gildarts returned today.

But I knew he would. How could he not when I issued such a public challenge to him before all of Lithmore City?

I know I should be awash with fear, afraid to step foot outside my office. But I feel nothing, nothing but mere exhaustion. How I tire of our dance. The lies. The threats. I am no longer even surprised when I feel the cold press of his thoughts within my mind. And I know I should be. But how can I when he has haunted me for so long?

My own personal poltergeist. The liar. The murderer. I still remember the first words he ever spoke to me that night the city burned.

“Excuse me, Miss,” he said as I lie there on the ground, burned by his magefire. Excuse me.

I should hate the cruel fate which drove me into that fire, which bound us together from that moment forth. I will always bear the scar from that night.

But I do not hate fate. I do not even know if I hate him.

All I do know is that he shall be the death of me or I… the death of him.


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