It ends tonight

Riva pulled at the binding around her throat. Fidgeting with the wrapping that sealed away the wound. Despite her careful treatment, she knew it was going to scar. A lifetime reminder of her failure, and what she had lost. A wound had never felt so choking, and her thoughts were sporadic. Spinning in circles, and returning with near constant habit to what had happened. To the long night, to Dante’s death. To her brother-in-law's guilt, and her husband and son's disappearance. She had broken this family. Everything they had built. She had done that.

She had broken contamination in the long night, she was the reason Dante had caught the illness that killed her. A healer should have known better. She should have immediately seen what had killed her daughter, and not left Eligos with the belief and guilt that he had caused it. A healer should have known better. Her carelessness had lost her everything, and ever since her attempt to raise Dantes spirit, the guilt had been eating her up alive. Twisting her into a knot so tight she couldn’t see the start or end.

She was a healer, and she knew the harsh truth of cutting off a soured limb before it could poison the body. That was what Riva had become. A blight, a poison. A fall seemed the easiest method, but there was no guarantee her death would be immediate. There was the chance of catastrophic injury, and a slow death.  Starvation led down a similar path. That left a healer's method. Poision.

She set the bowl in front of her with trembling paws. Guilt and doubt gnawing at her as she stared at the bowl before her. The thick liquid gleamed with the last rays of sunlight. There was enough in there for a swallow. That was all it would take. Just one swallow, and her blight on this earth would end.

She had never met her mother, but her thoughts turned to her brother as she sat there. It had been so long since she had seen him last. She had always believed she would be able to fix what was broken between them, but she saw that now for the lie it was. With the guilt of all her failures eating her up inside, she knew that hope had been nothing but a fool's dream. She thought of her husband, and she knew Dante’s death had broken him. Her fault he was gone, hers. And lastly, she thought of her surviving child. And that thought hurt her the most. Of all the people remaining in her life, she thought her death might do him the most harm. But perhaps he would see it as his God's doing. After all, he knew that she held some blame for the long night. Perhaps he would forgive her, with time. If he ever knew what had befallen her. “I don’t want to be another missing piece in his life. You will tell him, won’t you? Of my death?” She whispered to the Lynx that had followed her ever since the long night. She didn’t expect a reply, and she didn’t receive one.