I see the sword drop. Sun rays are reflected off the sleek metal. The intense light almost hurts my eyes. How many have seen the same image, and then never saw anything, ever again?
To me, the sword doesn’t mean death, at least not for now. What it brings to me is knighthood; honour and glory. It taps me on the shoulder as a kind friend who wants to make me feel proud of myself. But somehow, I feel the opposite. I feel shame.
“Hail to our brave hero!”
The Lady smiles. Everyone cheers, but all I can hear are screams. My nostrils can still smell blood.
Hail to me! Hail to the hero who saved us all!
Hail to me! Hail to the murderer who murdered them all!