The Arch of the Inescapable

I raised the dagger above his chest, its steel blade glinting in the pale moonlight, poised to strike. “Jaerus?” he whispered; his eyes opened very slightly. “What’s-?” he began, but I said, “Shhh, sleep now Amri, don’t worry, it’ll be over so soon.” He closed his eyes again and I drove the knife deep into his heart.

***

“Aude ambulare per arcus,

Ut invenias aquam quae exurere desierit.

Unus ante alios morietur manus,

Longum iter ad Tartarum.

Sed vide, quia semel occidisti,

Infernus te puniet cum veneritis in dominio suo.”

“Dare to walk through my arch,

To find the water that shall cease your parch.

One shall die at the other’s hands,

And make the long journey to the under lands.

But beware, for once you have slain,

Hades shall punish you when you reach his domain.

Once again, I read the words etched into the ancient stone above me. This prophecy has hung over our city since the day it was created, like the brooding storm clouds that gather in the east. Legend says that a thousand years ago, this land was a wild and unforgiving sea, and a witch ruled over it. One day she was wronged by men of the sea and as her vengeance she turned their ocean into a barren dessert. The only water for miles was from a little well, but the sea goddess built an impassable wall, separating the well from the sea men’s city. She cursed the only way through the wall, the arch I stood before at that very moment, with a prophecy that if two people walked through it at the same time, one would end the other’s life.

The first time I walked through the Arch, I was only 6. I crossed at the same time as an elderly woman. Just after she crossed, she fell to the ground and hit her head on a jagged stone. I watched as a thin line of blood trickled down her forehead, knowing I could save her. But I knew that either her or me would have to die, and so I ran away. I told myself it wasn’t my fault, but after I had done it, I knew Hades would punish me when I died. If I didn’t want to be tortured for an eternity, I would have to ensure I wasn’t the one who was killed. I knew I would die someday too, but I would do anything to delay my fate.

Ever since that day, I’ve killed the person who crossed with me. I never wanted to, but I had no choice. Taking a deep breath, I stepped through and dashed to the other side, hoping I was still alone. I turned to look behind me, checking once again and as I did, I bumped into something. I stumbled backwards, tripping over a rock lodged in the ground. Sitting up, I looked at who I had bumped into, knowing what I would have to do to them.

My eyes travelled up their body. They wore dusty boots, brown trousers, and a loose grey shirt. I looked at their face and stared into the eyes of Amri. My best friend.

My heart stopped, and all I could think was 'We are standing beneath the Arch. Me and Amri are standing beneath Arch. And now everything is ruined.'

“What’s wrong?” Amri asked, smiling brightly at me. “You don’t really believe that nonsense, do you?”

I couldn’t stand it, I couldn’t bear standing next to Amri, him beaming at me, and me knowing that only one of us would live to see tomorrow.

Amri doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what I’ve done. Or what I’ll have to do.

I turned my back on him and began to run. I didn’t know where, but that didn’t matter, all that mattered was which one of us would live or die.

I dropped to the dusty, cracked path beneath my feet and began to weep. I had known Amri since I was born, we had always been there for each other, through thick and thin. What kind of friend was I? Voices argued inside my head, some telling me to kill him, and others telling me to spare him. I clamped my hands over my ears, as if that would make them go away, but they only got louder, filling my head, blurring together and buzzing until I felt ready to explode. One voice spoke out clearer than the rest.

You have to. There is no other way.

I stood up, my face caked with dry tears and my clothes covered in dust. I began to walk back to the city, almost in a trance. The voices were quiet now, as if they knew I had chosen. When I reached the city, twilight had descended. I returned home and opened the locked drawer in Father’s desk. I pulled out a gleaming silver object. A knife.

That night, under the cover of darkness, I walked the familiar route to Amri’s house.

As I walked, ghostly figures danced around me. I saw Amri and me when we were young, playing on the cobbled street. I watched him tilt back his head and laugh, the noise that had once brought so much joy to me – now only an eerie whisper of a long-forgotten memory. The door opened soundlessly, and there I saw him. I watched as his chest rose and fell with every peaceful breath that escaped his lips. A single tear made its way down my cheek. I stared emptily at the glinting knife in my hands, wondering if my childhood self could recognise who I was now – a murderer.

I raised the dagger above his chest, its steel blade glinting in the pale moonlight, poised to strike. “Jaerus?” he whispered; his eyes opened very slightly. “What’s-?” he began, but I said, “Shhh, sleep now Amri, don’t worry, it’ll be over so soon.” He closed his eyes again and I drove the knife deep into his heart.