Thorned roots, teeth and petals

I wake up and my skin feels too loose. I am me, but different. Older.

I know what I have to do. Save her. I have been wearing her dress since we last say each other. A corset of teeth. An ankle-length skirt of petals. Scarlet, she used them as bandages when she was hemorrhaging, after being shot with an arrow of thorned roots. These fragments of memories wash over me slowly. Why did they take her? Who even is she?

I ride on horseback to where the execution will be held. My toes curl around the bone stirrups, digging into them with each gallop.

I arrive just in time. Kneeling on cobblestone, a few loose pebbles scrape her kneecaps. They force her to her feet, and now she stands over a ledge, her back turned to the castle ruins. Just in time to watch her die.

Hood over her head, a rope is tied around her neck. She jumps down before anyone can push her, and dies hanging over the onyx cliffs, over the emerald sea. Not a breath is uttered as her neck breaks and she suffocates.

I stay until they remove her, and that’s when I see her face. I had no idea what she looked like until now.

Frizzy brown hair, I almost scream. Her eyes are closed, but I know what they look like, the shape, the exact shade.

I watch the guards carry my dead body and bury it in a mass grave.