The frozen lake cracked beneath his feet. The numbness in his slender fingers was slowly seeping into his bones. With fear pulsing in his veins, he avoided directing his gaze to the ground under him. If only he had been aware of the consequences of his actions, maybe the icy wind wouldn’t have taken over.


His still body would have been described, in another moment, as poetic; perhaps his precise situation would have been, too. That was, of course, if it weren’t because he was quite literally lifeless, by now.


Not that it would be any less worthy of Virgil, if he were to simply die in that spot.


There was something, however, that was telling him death wouldn’t be the worst fate in that lake. The light of it all, the eeriness that place held, it was strange. Hostage to his own confusion, he glanced around. The flapping had to come from someplace near, he could hear it as if it were right beside him.


The realization that the flapping might indeed come from somewhere rather close to him crashed in him. Without turning around, he caught a glimpse of the shadow figure invading his personal space bit by bit. He might have lost some capacity related to his senses because of the coldness creeping into his body, but he could very well feel someone else’s presence inches away from him.


He could also feel the screams pierce his brain. He noticed that the flapping came from the being behind him; the painful shrieks did, too. Looking down at himself, his sinful hands showed stains the color of red wine. Their origin was unknown, as he could not remember having come across anything that could have caused those in his hands.


The traitorous feeling of guilt came rushing to him at the sight of his palms and fingers. Blood. Whose? Not his, he would have noticed that sooner. He knew, though, that he had been the cause of those stains. They hadn’t just accidentally shown up. No, he was the reason why they were there.


He had never been one to follow his instinct.


With that in mind, he tilted his head to the side in an attempt to get a better view of the thing. He couldn’t move to see it properly and yet, it was obvious that it stood imposing. The being was, at least, nine times bigger than him and it was…


Chewing on something. It was eating. Feeding.


The cracking of bones and the slap of meat falling against the frozen water came to his ears. His feet, stuck to the ground, wouldn’t have moved even if they had had the chance to. The numbness in his fingers had extended within his body.


Feeling desperation and betrayal toward his own body, he couldn’t allow himself to surrender to the being behind him. He was no soldier, never had been, but the last time he had born a knife he had… He had…


And, all of a sudden, he was capable of moving again. Alas, he knew now why.


With the loudness of the chewing and the eternal screams drilling into his ears, he turned around.


The two-headed, horned beast’s appearance would have caused the plants to wither away, had there been any surrounding the frozen waters. It was enormous. Giants would have become specks of dust next to it.


Wings double the monster’s size came from its back, which was covered in irregular lumps. That was where the flapping came from, along with the icy wind. Their constant movement was the reason why the lake was iced; the cracks under his feet were no longer there, they had frozen once more.


The thing had sharp claws for digits. It was submerged from the waist down into the lake and its upper body stayed in motion. Its claws held something inside, something moving, something alive. As it brought its barbed hands towards each mouth, the horrifying sound of crunching bones began again.


Incapable of moving, yet again stuck to the ground by an invisible force, his gaze fell to the two heads. Insatiably, they kept on gnawing on the bodies. That was the main focus of the scene, until the third neck began to form.


Right before his very eyes, the protuberance rapidly grew next to the other two heads. Its shape was quite irregular, up until it became obvious that it was a third head coming to life. The monster’s skin, with a rotten-like color, burst open and the third head came to be, looking exactly like the other two.


The only difference was that this one didn’t have anything to munch on.


It was pretty obvious by now, wasn’t it? He was being punished, he understood why now. His sinful hands, stained with blood, had committed unspeakable acts. Having turned on someone like that, someone so dear to him, someone who had taken him in.


Let the punishment fit the crime, he had been told many times.


Now he understood the severity of those words. The severity of his crime and the severity of his punishment. He felt as though if the light at the end of the tunnel were to be all-revealing, it would be not because of his good-heartedness, but because of the need for him to understand his presence there.


All the blood he had shed, he had failed to notice how the consequences would eventually come to haunt him. Not while he had been alive, but after his death.


By the time he realized what was to come, it was too late. The thing’s claws fell down to get him. A mantra of screams came from him, as he was brought closer to the monster’s third mouth. There was no smell coming from that one, only from the others, which stank of blood.


As his stained hands attempted to get himself away from the monstrous claws, his skin burning with guilt and terror, his last words came to him…


“Et tu, Brute?”


With those in mind, Brutus felt his own bones get crunched between the monster’s teeth, while Cassius and Judas were slowly silenced by the grip of death.