Begin (7) 19: Let The Games…
Begin (7) SHHKK!!!
SHHKK!!!
In the same quiet instant, both heads detached from their bodies.
Warm blood poured over Neon’s and Atlas’s hands in sudden splashes, the heat of it a shock against their bodies that had never before felt this strange, intimate warmth.
The severed heads drifted forward, hitting the river with gentle, almost sorry splashes, their dark stream of blood flowing along until it disappeared into the larger current.
In the valley’s deep shadows, it was impossible to notice any change; the water remained as clear as always, with the blood blending only into the reflection of the darkness.
Both young men stood motionless, memories of the past flooding back as they recalled all the times they’d had playful fights along the riverbank.
The times when Atlas would watch the young girls gather around Neon while he lounged nearby, lost in his novels and daydreams.
Even the quieter moments came to mind, when they would lie back to watch the stars and talk about all the “what ifs” the world had to offer.
This was the place of their childhood—the same waterfall that once sang them to sleep on warm summer nights, the same peaceful valley that had been filled only with laughter and the innocent certainty that the world would always remain gentle.
But now, it held something different.
Now it was the first place where both of them had taken a life, and that was something they both were taking in completely different ways.
The tendrils of darkness loosened their grip with the same slow grace they had shown in forming, unwinding until the bodies too slipped free and followed the heads into the river, vanishing beneath the black surface with barely a sound.
For a long while afterward neither Neon nor Atlas moved.
They stood still at the water’s edge, the final traces of blood slowly drying on their skin, as the knives of shadow slid from their grasp and vanished, melting back into the greater dark as if they had never existed at all.
In that shared silence, both of them felt the same quiet, undeniable truth settle into their bones…
Earth was truly no longer the same.
The realization struck harder than either had expected, cutting past the resolve they had carefully constructed on the cliff above.
They had spent their whole lives in complete comfort, never having even to consider the idea of taking another life themselves, and now that it was done, the ease they had expected never came.
Atlas’s thoughts turned inward first, restless and unsettled.
‘Why… why does it feel like this?’ He had always known that the worlds of fantasy demanded killing; he had even believed he would come to terms with it fairly easily once the moment arrived.
Yet the feeling that gripped him now was neither the sorrow he might have anticipated nor the clean satisfaction of justice delivered.
It was something stranger and more disturbing, a wrongness that refused to be explained away.
He could not decide whether the discomfort came from the act itself or from the reasons that had driven him to it; he only knew it felt wrong, and it sat heavily in his chest.
Slowly he turned his head and looked at Neon.
He stood completely still, eyes closed, and face tilted upward toward a sky that held no stars, as though he were waiting for something the night had not yet decided to reveal.
Inside that stillness, Neon struggled with a weight of his own.
He wasn’t sad, nor was he unsettled the way Atlas seemed to be.
The feelings were there…
but he chose not to confront them head-on.
‘This… this is the new reality of things,’ he thought as his eyes opened at last, the red of them calm and deliberate.
He wasn’t going numb; he was shoving the feelings aside, burying them deep inside where they couldn’t mess with him.
While Atlas questioned the wrongness, Neon accepted the demand the world now placed upon them.
If he ever hoped to rise above instead of staying beneath, he had to accept that some things just happened, and tonight was simply one of those times.
Bottling it up was intentional, a calm decision that kept his face steady while the river swept the traces of their choice into the darkness.
Neon’s voice finally broke the quiet, low and practical.
“Come on.” He rose from the water’s edge without ceremony and started to climb.
Atlas followed almost instinctively, no words needed between them.
They ascended in silence until the familiar cliff crest came into sight, the waiting statue standing just as they’d left it.
—- They sat on opposite sides of the statue’s base, each gazing out into the valley’s open darkness instead of toward the other.
For a long time, neither spoke.
Below them, the waterfall kept up its steady rhythm, the same melody that had once filled carefree afternoons, though now it carried a heaviness that lingered in the air.
Both young men sat with their own thoughts, the recent act still fresh enough that the night itself seemed to press closer around their shoulders.
“So,” Atlas said, finally breaking the silence.
“What’s next?
Heh, are we going to play heroes for the Kingdom?” His tone held a dry attempt at humor, but the warmth that once accompanied such remarks was nowhere in sight.
Neon released a quiet sigh, the sound almost lost beneath the distant rush of water.
“Maybe,” he said, matching Atlas’s dry humor, both of them aware that Neon would rather do anything than play the role of hero.
Still, in this moment, such a course of action didn’t seem like the most far-fetched possibility.
‘The longer I stay in this kingdom, the harder it will be for me to resist claiming it for myself,’ he thought, realizing that while he couldn’t fully grasp what it meant to walk the path of the Defiant Usurper, he did understand that he could never live peacefully under the shadow of another ruler.
So, if he truly planned to leave, he wanted to make sure his parents had a place of absolute, unquestionable safety.
“If we leave the task of cleaning up the Kingdom to others, it’ll take an eternity,” he remarked, his tone carrying a hint of exasperation.
As his words trailed off, he turned to Atlas, holding his gaze in a moment of quiet calculation before finally voicing the idea that had been forming in his mind.
“Earlier, you mentioned an exploration-focused path… So, I think you should handle reconnaissance around the Kingdom—note any changes, learn more about this game, and figure out what really shifted after the grace period.” Atlas gave a slow, thoughtful nod, his expression shifting as the idea settled in his mind.
“Hmm, that’s actually not a bad idea,” he said with a hint of intrigue in his voice.
Pushing himself up to his feet, he glanced over, curiosity evident in his gaze.
“So, what about you?” Neon’s response was straightforward.
“I’m going to take care of cleaning up the Kingdom.
Let’s plan to meet back here in three months.” The decision settled between them with the quiet certainty of something long set in motion.
They stood, stretching to their full height, and took in deep, calming breaths of the crisp night air.
Atlas offered a single, firm nod in agreement.
Moments later, they lifted off the ground again, drifting apart with effortless grace as each veered toward a different path.
Behind them, the statue of the king remained, a solitary sentinel keeping its silent vigil over the valley where their first unchangeable choice had been made.