I ruffled my wings, my black feathers bristling. That son of a bitch! I should kill him for saying such a thing. I will kill him…  To hell with the laws, rules, and titles. That slimy, disgusting little purgedborn.

“Jackson?”

A tentative voice spoke in the cold air. An air that hinted at the coming of winter. I whirled around to meet her loving eyes and grimaced at my future wife. She was dressed in the dress I had gifted her, black silk hugging all her curves. So much so that the first time she had worn it she laughed at me for even suggesting it. But ever since I had proposed, she had taken to wearing it around the house, much to my delight.

“Yes?”

My voice was a growl. She sighed deeply before she pulled me into a bone-crushing hug. My arms engulfed her, so it was just she and I in this godforsaken world.

“I know, I know, but you will only need to deal with him for another—" She spoke into the soft fabric of my tunic, muffling the sound of her lovely voice. "-month, and then you’re free from these lords and ladies.”

I raised my hand, weaving my fingers through her ginger hair, and rested my head on top of hers before answering.

“I will never be free of them. The world will never be free of them. The world seems to continue to produce horrible people. We go through the process again and again. We win and barely get any time to relish in the victory before it starts to fall again into darkness and—"