I’ll See You in My Dreams

into his heart.

Yes, part of me still hated Basilius for what he made me, but a majority of my decrepit soul loved every bit of him. He made me a monster, but he saved me from the rafters. He kept me alive and showed me how to live this undead life. Sometimes it felt that he did not want me around or that he regretted pulling me from that fire, but other nights he showed a rejuvenation of life that was otherwise dulled or dreaded. He scoffed at immortality just as frequently as he chided ephemeral beings, but those nights! I wish I could have seared them deep into my memory just as much as his claws and teeth scarred my flesh.

With his hand behind my head, he pulled me down and pressed my lips to his. Groping a fistful of my hair, he stared his black eyes into mine and said, “Run north. Stay away from the coast. Find respite in Romania, and keep your head down, or you will meet the Fates as I have.”

I tried to speak, but he gripped my hair tighter.

“Abreshmina, my love, forget about what your past thought your future would hold. You can never become what you thought you would be. Take flight, eshgham, and live as you have shown me.”

Basilius passed in my arms, yet I did not flee as he had told me. His voice that once held bearing over my conscious actions died with him, and I let the predator control me. Conceal. I tried, Basilius, I really did. No longer did your strong voice suppress the creature within me. I wanted to be you. I wanted to become you. Make me a predator, Basilius. Make me good.

She was released—the sanctimonious being built of rage and abuse and childish impetuosity. She wanted to consume, and she did. She laid waste to the valley and to the people that took from her. She became me, and I watched billows of smoke collect their souls while I prayed that Angra Mainyu would release them and that he would release me, too.

I left the Valley, my home, when the ashes settled; I left the grave of my father, the façade of purity, and I left the place of my transcendent rebirth. I will become a shadow like you, Basilius. I will become your successor.

On the Next Page:

by Cassidy MacArthur

Procreate

89