The Devil's Hand

The Cut and the Blood

Then the knife faltered in it’s path. I lay still, staring into the eyes of the boy. A calm determined look plastered in my face. The dagger hung in mid air, fractions away from my head, but I ignored it. I just stared into the eyes of the murderer. The anger in his eyes wavered, a tiny bit of pity reappeared in them. He seemed to be confused; he didn’t know why he stopped.
        Then he raised the dagger high again, ready to strike. With my eyes still locked on his he brought the dagger down, but this time, it’s path was for the ropes. I heard the sound of ropes being cut but I still stared into the boy’s eyes.
        “Why did they do this?” he asked me when all the ropes were gone, brushed aside.
        “I thought I’d ask you the same thing.” I replied, sitting up on the edge of the wooden bed. “Give me the dagger.”
        The boy threw the dagger, it’s path heading straight towards me face. As quick as lightning I flung my a hand up and caught the blade. I flipped the dagger high in the air, catching it and tossing it up again. I hopped off the bed and walked to a door on the other side of the room. I leaned against the wall, and pondered what to do.
        The boy lied, this was the next test. Although I didn’t know what was outside that door, I knew not to leave.
        I strided over to the boy, dagger in my hand.
        “Well, can we leave?” I asked the King. “Is it safe?”
        “Yes, I came through there, I’m pretty sure it’s safe.” He replied and headed towards the door, motioning for me to follow him. I slowly walked over to him and when I was at the door he opened it and held it open for me.
        Now, I was sure. Now I knew who it was.
        I curtseyed. “Thank you young man,” I teased, pasting a fake smile on my face.
        “You're welcome,” he said with a bow.
        I took a step forward, then spun around, knife in my hand, and slit his throat. “Tell the King my thanks, you were nice practice. But not as good as the real thing.”
        As he fell to the ground, a look of horror on his face, I slammed the door shut. He would never know. He would never know the feel of sun on his face. He would never know that he was a clone. All he would know was how easy it was to kill him.
        I snarled at his ignorance and turned around to face the world. If the world was a tiny box sitting on the middle of a round glass table.
        Cautiously, I circled the table, my eyes picking up every detail. The dust on the bottom of the glass, the slight magenta tint on the white box. I eyed the light pink ribbon that tied the lid down. While observing how high the table rose, I noticed a kink in the floor. I peered down at it, it seemed to be a button. Round and small, it blended into the white background. Curious, I ran my finger over the top of the dusty button, brushing the dust off. A little red light glowed faintly, giving off the sense of a bomb. I slowly backed away, pushing my back against the door. But the door wouldn’t open, and there was no exit in sight.
        Sighing, I knew what to do. I confidently marched over to the table. Picking up the box, I tossed it in the air. When I caught it, I teared the ribbon off. I lifted off the lid, revealing a small piece of paper. I fingered the paper cautiously, one side was blank. I slowly flipped it over, showing a small message written in fresh red link. I scraped the ink with my long finger nail, lifting it up to my nose. Blood. Slowly, I held the piece of paper and read.

Try as you may,
You may never escape,
Until one’s cut away,
With their head on a stake.

When one is gone,
Find the hidden kink,
Wait until dawn,
Then connect the link.
        
        I grinned, that other must have been the King’s clone. He was cut away and I had already found the kink.
I ran over to the door and yanked it open. I was faced with the body of a boy, but unlike how I left him. The boy’s head was crooked, an arm was gone. His hair was soaked with the blood that covered his face. His eyes were open, the ghost of a smirk danced on his face. Those eyes weren’t red. Those weren’t the eyes of the King.
Those were the eyes of Sebastian.
I backed away in fear, a sob pushing its way up my throat. I shook my head. No, this was the King, it had to be the King. My dagger dropped out of my hand, landing with a clunk but I barely noticed it.
Shaking, I turned around and hurried out the room, slamming the door shut.. That was my brother, but I wasn't the one who killed him. No, I wasn't the one who killed him.
I was defenseless now, my dagger left in the room I would never return to. I knew I had failed this round. This test.
Suddenly I heard the unmistakable sound of boots stepping on the floor. The sound was heading towards me.
Clank.
Clank.
Clank.
Clank.
With each step a shiver flew up my back…
Clank.
Clank.
Clank.
The noise grew louder as the sound bounced off the floor…
Clank.
Clank.
The sound was like the god of death, approaching, waiting for the kill…
Clank.
Clank.
Clank.
Clank.
Clank.
Clank.
Clank...