People trust me. They shouldn't

Wednesday has come around again and I’m happy to present this week’s flash fiction.

“At your service.” The words are quick and unwavering as always, spoken before I have a moment to see who summoned me. My eye open as the routines flood through my body. Ignoring muscles aching from lack of use I step forward, drop to one knee, and my head bowed.

Blood dripped onto the stone before my chamber, my coffin. Only a few drops at first, but quickly growing. Raising my head, I can see the blood on her fingers, the unkempt hair framing a face filled with desperation. Eyes wide, and throat working at words she doesn’t know if she wants to say, and I don’t know if I want to hear.

But they’ll come they always do.

“I call upon you, aid us.” Unlike my voice, her voice trembles. Is it because she knows what the final price of my summoning is? I doubt it. Not one has ever truly known they are asking for. Slamming a fist over my heart I raise and incline my head. I can see the others in the shadows beyond her now. Frightened faces hidden beneath cloaks and scarves.

Beyond them all watching me, I hear the other sounds I know to well. The clang of men fighting and the screams of them dying. They’ve summoned me because they believe I am the last hope they have. People trust me. They shouldn’t.

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