Dia by Sadhbh

But were that hope of pride and power, now offer'd, with the pain, even then I felt- that brightest hour, I would not live again.
For on its wing was dark alloy, and, as it flutter'd- fell. An essence- powerful to destroy a soul that knew it well...
(A quotation of the two last stanzas, taken from Edgar Allan Poe's poem "The Happiest Day, The Happiest Hour"...)

The staircase- it never seemed to end. It wasn't those fancy ones that the hero in those moves run around in, trying to catch the villiain who had already escaped by jumping into a chopper and flying away, laughing with malice. No, it was rather just a high ladder- it would have been much easier to picture it as a staircase, since the person who had to climb up them was not such a big fan of ladders.
"Mr.Ot, don't worry, I'll hold the ladder at the bottom so it won't tilt to one side. After you go up, I'll follow. Don't worry, I'll be-"
"You have to stay down here."
Frowning, Salos Ahcrod looked at his mentor, eyebrows entwined together into a look of confusion, as he imagined his brave teacher going up to the top of the ladder and facing the villiain alone- that is what all heroes did. However, Mr.Ot had a different story.
"It would be logical for you to stay down here. That way, if something went wrong, after, say, two hours of waiting, maybe one, you'll be able to report it. I don't think she planned that quiet far ahead..." Mr.Ot mumbled, more to himself, however, he knew that without a good reason, Salos would only, like a dog, follow his master. That would be no good, for three seperate reasons, one which was revealed, whether Salos realized that or not.
Mr.Ot got ready to face Salos' whining, yet, the young man only nodded, one hand gripping the ladder.
"I'll hold the ladder for you, Em." Salos said with confidence, small fires burning within his golden irises.
Em Ot could not help chuckle after hearing his student call him by his first name... ever.
As the newly dubbed Em started to climb the ladder, Salos gripped it's steel base tightly, determined not to let Mr.Ot fall. Em wasn't thinking of this, though, his grey eyes glazed over in deep thought... Wondering if she was actually there.
"If she is there... I'll have to get rid of her, won't I?" he thought, as soon enough, he reached the top of the ladder.
This was it. The last stand.

The roof was pure white, the new snow resting peacefully on the normally untouched tiles, after falling from heaven heavily all last night. Something caught Em's eyes straight away- the clear, blatant foot tracks in the snow- small, yet obviously there.
To match these foot prints, the place they did go was at the edge of the chapel... Where the "villiain" of the story sat, her index finger writing something in the snow.
"...Sionnach." Em growled, knowing well who this young woman was. Sixteen years old, yet, since the age of fourteen, she still gave Mr.Ot a lot of trouble. Cliste Sionnach. Always one step ahead of him, except today.
Cliste's left eye fell into place at Em, but she said nothing as she continued to write, the tip of her index finger red from the coldness of the snow.
"Let us cut to the chase- give me what I want, and I'll leave you alone..."
Em had beaten around the bush for too long before now. He meant business, there and then... And he was sure at the end of this all, he will get his way.
"And that would be?" Cliste droned, getting bored of this mad man already. She wasn't afraid of him- many a times had he said these things to her. She always wondered if she could charge him with abuse to children, though she would never get the chance to do so.
Em Ot would not catch Cliste Sionnach's attention alone, they both knew that, that is why both of them made eye contact finally when a click was heard...
That click was from the automatic in which Em had. The safety was off.
"Your life." Em whispered, his face drained of no emotion, however, for the first time, Cliste's face was shocked, or rather, twisted into a face of pure horror. It was a dirty trick to play, they both knew that also. So Cliste soon recovered from this threat with a shrewd smile on her lips.
"Who is going to pull the trigger then?" she purred, standing to her feet, behind her, the thin air.
"I know you can't pull it. You know you can't pull it. Don't mess with things you don't understand, Ot..."
Cliste's tone was both harsh and sharp, which was unusual. She would mostly be calm, unemotional, not saying much. Now, facing death, what else could she do?
"Besides... this is too cheesy for you. You raise a gun at me, shoot me, the baddie is dead, then you celebrate. Way too easy... if you ask me."
Cliste was getting more confident with each of her words. Heck, Ot couldn't touch her. He wouldn't. He shouldn't. Yet he did.

One shot to the gut did it all, sealed both of their fates, sealed the man at the bottom of the ladder's fate, sealed destiny's fate.
With a banshee shriek, Cliste Sionnach stumbled backwards, blood gushing out of her deadly wound, her blue irises covered in dusty mist of upcoming death.
"You... fool..." Cliste giggled. At the time, Ot thought of it as only insanity breaking through, and all he could do was laugh.
"Poor Cliste..." he murmured "...dead."
And so she was. Colliding with gravity, she stood no chance as she fell from grace literally, falling from the chapel's roof, down to the pavement below, a large thud heard as her skull cracked opened from the force, arms outstretched as if to take on death... A twisted smile plastered on her face.
With a happy nod, Em casually made his way over to the opening in which he climbed out of from the ladder earlier on, climbing down the ladder just to meet Salos', who seemed excited yet afraid.
"What happened? I heard a gun shot. Did she shoot?" Salos asked, his brow furrowed in worry.
Inside, Ot was laughing, and laughing. Poor Salos... too innocent for his own good. Ot was always righteous, Ot was always good. He would never shoot down a sixteen year old girl, even if she was pure evil.
"It is fine. I'll tell you later. Right now, let us just head out of here..."
Salos was completely lost by these words. Surely it would be fine to tell him here? Or maybe something was wrong and they had to act quick.
Salos nodding, walking in front of Em, strolling down a corridor of the chapel, heading towards a flight of stairs in which earlier on, both of them climbed.
"Y'know, Mr.Ot, I thought after hearing that gunshot you were dead. Seriously, if you were, I would have-"
One shot in the back of the head did it for poor Salos Ahcrod as he fell to the floor, his sentence never finished, his face pale and unreadable.
As he fell foward, his body fell towards the stairs, the balance tilting downwards, Salos body falling and falling down the staircase, thud after thud until the last thud was sounded.
"Just to be careful..." Em Ot purred, climbing the stairs himself on his feet, stepping over maybe the one friend he had in his life and leaving the chapel... Ignorant to reality.

Didn't he ever wonder what Cliste Sionnach did write when he first met up with her? She made sure when falling backwards not to wreck her snow-written letter, her own blood only missing it. To her relief, strangely.
With her pointer finger, she did write:

"I really love the uses of decoys. The only problem is where to find one good enough to act you out, to take death on instead of you. Ms. Jattle was good enough, wasn't she? Run all you like, Ot, I know you haven't read this- you really are a fool. As they say... Enjoy this moment as it lasts. For it won't last for long..."
The "g" curled sideways, the last letter the decoy, Ms. Jattle, did engrave on the snow.
Soon enough, the snow returned again, covering this letter up, as if to stop the truth revealing itself.

In the square, people did crowd around the dead body of "Cliste Sionnach", wondering what happened, the police arriving on the scene, reports taken, the body taken away.
As all of this mess was getting cleaned up, the new snow mentioned earlier arrived, covering the small village again with a blanket of white.
"Es schneit, Mutti!" a young child did cry, pulling her mother's glove, pointing at the dancing snowflakes as if to prove her statement.
Yet all her mother did see was the blood, as the base of the chapel, literally the sacrifice used to keep Ms. Sionnach alive...