Throughout the pandemic, authors on this site have entertained me, made me think, cry, laugh and ultimately inspired me to pick up fiction writing again after a very long time. This is my first fanfiction of any kind. It’s long and detailed and just the kind of thing that kept me sane when I needed to shut off the news or escape the lockdown in favor of distant lands filled with magic and romance. So this is dedicated to this community of authors, of all experience levels.
Thanks :) Here’s my contribution.
A few other notes:
This is a slow burn romance. The story is nearly fully written and I have a shorter sequel (...or is it a prequel?) that I'm releasing somewhat simultaneously. There will not be many ANs - just when I feel I need to communicate something about a particular chapter.
I do not own Inuyasha, though I did enjoy getting into these character’s heads as I see them. I hope you do, too!
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He could not escape the scent of the blood on his hands.
Over and over he scrubbed them raw in the river, but the smell lingered under his claws. It would never be enough to wash away his actions. No matter how dark the night, he could still see her blood glistening upon his palms.
The memory of her... the way she recoiled as he approached when he realized she was injured... it made him shudder in disgust.
How could this have happened?
How could I have so thoroughly lost control of my own mind and body?
As he knelt by the bank of the river, a cloaked figure approached. Her features were obscured by the shadows cast in moonlight, but he could hear the tinkling of the silver-studded hair comb.
He paused wondering who could have followed him. He’d made his escape so swiftly, he figured he’d have more time before they caught up to him.
“Are you here to kill me for what I have done?” He asked, almost hoping the answer was yes.
The figure allowed the question to linger in the air between them for a moment before slicing through the silence.
“Why would I kill you when you so expertly signed your own death warrant in the West?” Her velvety voice seemed to float to his ears on a breeze.
“I - I don’t know why I did it...” he choked on the words; admitting it out loud was a new blow.
“But you have done it well, Demon. The fall of the West is imminent and you are to blame. Your attachment to the Lady was easy to exploit. You eagerly carried death to her doorstep, and with it your blasphemous Lord will follow.”
He was shaking again. The torrent of emotions he felt - fear, anger, sorrow, grief - threatened to overwhelm him.
But they would not have the chance.
An arrow, imbued with dark, swirling purple and black energy, shot directly through his heart. As it ceased beating, he thought he saw his true love standing a short distance away, witnessing his last breath with eyes full of regret.
The shadowy figure observed dispassionately as the wretch disintegrated, leaving only her arrow in the ground as evidence of the method of his demise.
“Let them find it. Let them know what is in store for them should they survive my wrath,” she spoke aloud to no one.
The sun was rising over the Western lands, promising a new day of discovery.
In a flash of black sparkling magic, she was gone.