By Miss Eliza Azraelian
Two enemies on opposite sides of a war. Through my dying eyes, I forfeit.
The slate blue that had always been so cold wasn't. The emotion was a torrent storm. As if it would rip from his eyes and gather everything around in a whirlwind. Except there already was a storm outside. Rain battered down, but they had long been soaked to the bone. And there was green lightning.
No not lightning. Green death. It ravaged, it raged, it consumed. Activated from impurities, yet pure hate. The eyes, the slate blue, slowly changed, and became that bright green of death. And then it was gone. The eyes were empty. The body crumpled to the ground. Faced with red eyes now.
He was shocked. He had been ready, expecting his death, his failure. Yet he still stood there. His wand still raised, the curse begging to be released. And he let it, he found pure hatred, and let it seek revenge. The words of power tore from his throat, rumbling across the bloody moors.
"Avada Kedavra!" The green death, leached out of his wand, alive and snaking. It seemed to pause and bow it's head to the once blue eyed boy until it continued to it's target. Red eyes burned. The body cracked and fire exploded across his skin. The snake-like face was furious, but nothing could be done, death had taken its course. All that was left were ashes, of the demon's father's bones. No spirit lived this time.
Emerald eyes fell to his knees. Tears streamed from his eyes as he gazed into empty blue. The blonde hair was matted to his face, he brushed it away. Fingers felt the cold skin, grazed lightly across the pale blue lips. In a rush he leant over and sobbed. It wasn't fair. He read the eyes, the eyes of any enemy that simply said 'I forfeit'. But it was more than that. It was more, but now was nothing. So many had died, but his heart had never broken. Now his heart was torn from his body, dripping blood and stuck on a pike.