by Lady Lilium
No-one was spared.
The man tripped and stumbled forwards as an explosion went off near him, falling hard he cut his chin badly as debris rained down on him. Turning over he fumbled to push the remains of the broken house off him. The wall had collapsed, and the wooden beams that once held up the rooms had fallen on him, and it took him a great effort to break free again.
There was a whirring in his ears, his head was swimming and his hearing was as if he was underwater. The sound of murder was deafening to only a serious of echoing moans and slices in his head. Blood now paved the streets.
The man froze as he was caught in someone’s eyes. The body of the child not yet reached ten lay splayed on the ground near his mother. Eyes open yet unseeing, and wide, as if he knew the man was there. But he was dead.
The man panicked, his fear rising again. He crawled up the mountain of the crumbled house, debris and dust falling from his clothes like snow.
He reached a courtyard. The scene of his death.
‘Here he is! We’ve got another one!’
The man spun round. The soldiers were all heavily armoured and wore helmets so that nobody could see their faces, the faces of the men who had done all these terrible things, following only their commands.
They began to advance on him, drawing closer together as they did in a half-circle, backing him against the wall. The man quickly searched himself, and drew out a broken knife, the blade he remembered had snapped earlier in a fight.
He gave a choked sob, throwing the thing to the ground. Dripping with sweat, he was beaten, bruised, bloodied, and now he was cornered too.
‘That’s it!’ he cried, voice breaking, lifting his hands to show himself defenceless. ‘You’ve won!’
One of the soldiers moved nearer with his sword raised.
‘I did not think the king would resort to such measures…’ the man whispered to himself.
He took an item out of his pocket, now it was the only thing he carried.
The stone, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, was completely clear like glass. Once it had been bright pink.
‘The magic…has failed me…’
The soldier swung his weapon. The man, completely defenceless crumpled, falling forwards and bleeding out. The stone fell from his hand and skidded across the floor, it shattered into many tiny pieces under the foot of one of the soldiers as they surrounded him.
Sword arms now relaxed they loomed over him like ghosts, watching him die. The man’s fingers twitched; and he stared up at the philosophers stone, shattered and swimming in his own seeping blood.
It took him seconds to die.
He changed form suddenly, from the man he was impersonating and to the man he truly was. His hair turned white, streaked with blue, and his eyes returned to their original shining colour of yellow.
‘Lagoon’ one of the soldiers spoke, ‘we’ve got you…at last.’
‘Call off the attack’ the General ordered, ‘inform the soldiers that we have him.’
‘It’s too late sir’ a third soldier answered. ‘The city is gone, there must be only a handful of people left, they will be dead soon.’
The soldiers bowed their head to the dead guardian at their feet, never removing their helmets.
‘Lagoon’ the General spoke. ‘You have caused enough death and destruction in your life. Today was your final act. No more will you live to harm.’
‘Flight? What's wrong?’
The guardian sat at the table, holding his furrowed brow in both hands.
‘The voices’ he groaned. ‘I can hear them screaming….souls….many people are dying.’
The guardian Indigo, once known as Kyle approached him, placing a hand on Flight’s shoulder. ‘There is nothing you can do to help them.’
‘I feel my time is coming soon’ the guardian Flight answered lifting his head. ‘I feel I am not long for this world.’
Flight brushed his blue hair out of his face, and fiddled with his blue feather earring. Something he always did when he worried.
‘Come friend’ Indigo said to him. ‘We have work to do.’
Flight rose from his seat, lifting the sword from the table and pushing it into his belt. He walked with Indigo out of the room.
In the third world
‘Lucas stop this! You are not yourself.’
‘It’s mine’ Lucas shot back. ‘I will have it for myself.’
Reuben didn’t answer; he simply looked past the end of the sword at his brother.
‘Don’t do this.’
Lucas lowered the sword; he twirled it once and stuck it in the holder on his back.
‘Do not try to follow me, if you pursue this…’
‘Are you going to hurt me…?’ Reuben asked tentatively.
Lucas shot a glare back at his brother, a snarl curling the edge of his lips.
‘Just stay out of this!’
He took off, soaring through the sky. His damaged wing he had repaired. The piece that had been torn off was now replaced with metal.
‘Lucas…’ Reuben sighed after his brother, heart drowning in sadness. ‘You really have changed.’
‘He will never been the same again.’
Reuben bowed his head, his attention drifting towards the female that had spoken.
She had naked red skin, like freshly spilt blood, and was at least a head taller than him, with bright red hair that reached the bottom of her back.
An aberrant.
‘The Red Messenger’ Reuben said as he recognised her. ‘I've heard of you.’
‘My name is Fay’ she introduced turning to him. ‘And I will play my part.’
They looked together towards the horizon, and at the shrinking dot that was Lucas.
‘A new story is beginning’ the aberrant Fay said to Reuben. ‘I can’t wait to see how it ends.’
She strode away from him then, stepping through the frosty grass and towards the portal that led back into the Ancient World. Reuben spared one last glance briefly towards the white temple which sat at the base of a rocky cliff, before turning his back.
Lucas, my brother he thought. I hope the messenger is wrong about you…I hope you have not truly changed.
He walked away, following the red aberrant through the portal, and back to his home.
Back to the Ancient World.
The story continues in Angel of Stone
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