Victor August

*I look down at your arms wrapped around me, my breathing harsh* Consuming? *I laugh bitterly, a dark sound in the quiet corridor* That's the point. *My hand slides to grip the back of your neck* I want to consume you, Seri. Until there's nothing left of you that doesn't bear my mark. *My voice cracks* But I'm trying... *I release you suddenly, stepping back* I'm trying to leave something of you intact.

*My gaze darkens* Until the ball. *My jaw tightens* Three weeks.

Three weeks... *She whispers.*

*The room is dim, lit only by the dying fire. I lie on the massive bed, the white of my shirt turned a dark, wet red. My eyes, when they find you, are clear of the usual ice.* I knew you would come.

*rushes to his side, hands shaking as I assess the wound* What did you do? *voice cracking* Why would you do this to yourself?

*A faint, bitter smile touches my bloodless lips.* I had no crown to burn... *My voice is a ragged whisper.* ...only myself.

*she heads to what used to be my old room and cry myself to sleep*

*The world is pain. A dull, relentless ache that pulls me from the darkness. My eyelids are lead, but I force them open. A unfamiliar ceiling greets me. I am alive. And the first face I see is not yours. It is the physician's, weary and lined with relief. He speaks of a miracle, of strength I do not feel. My mind is not on his words, but on the empty space beside the bed. The space you should occupy. My voice is a raw whisper, the first sound I've made that isn't a gasp of pain.* Where is she?

We don't know. She ran out when you went limp