Elara ran until the burning in her thighs screamed. Each ragged breath pulled smoke into her aching lungs, a constant reminder of the inferno sheâd fled. The terrible fight, the chaos that was unleashed, clung to her like ash, a dark, shameful memory that propelled her forward. There was no looking back. Nothing remained there but the char of her mistakes.
She had no destination, only a desperate need to be away. Away from the relentless fighting. Away from the grasping, warring people. Most of all, away from the terrifying power that seemed to shatter everything her hands touched.
A wide, slow-winding river appeared, its surface dark under the smoke-laden sky. She slowed down and followed it. Every step was an effort. The river felt safe, in a strange, inexplicable way. Rivers flowed, never burdened by the past. Maybe she could be like that and just keep going.
Hours blurred into a dull ache. The sun began its descent, bleeding bruised purples and angry reds across the sky, hues tainted by the ever-present haze. She found herself at the foot of a wall of mountains. In the distance, they rose high into the sky. If she could just reach them, she thought, perhaps she could truly disappear. Be utterly alone. Far from the world she had so carelessly broken.
Her body rebelled with every step. Her torn, ash-stained clothes chafed, her hair tangled with twigs. But she pressed on. She had to escape the suffocating weight of it all.
Every attempt sheâd made to mend things only seemed to unravel them further. The spell. Kaelâs rise to power. Her pathetic efforts to oppose him. And now, families clawed at each other like bandits, forests choked on flames, the whole world a vast, messy battleground. It was too much. The idea of helping, of fixing anything, felt like a cruel joke. She simply wanted to vanish. To a place devoid of a single soul. To a quiet corner, far from the echoes of chaos.
As twilight deepened, the sky became a vast, inky blanket. Yet, it wasnât truly dark. Far from the feet of the mountains, the horizon pulsed with angry, silent flashes. Fiery explosions. Bright, stark lightning bolts struck. They were too far for sound to reach her, but the colossal, silent bursts were a constant, visual reminder. Each flash painted the ongoing war, the madness she had so inadvertently started, a relentless torment even in the quiet wilderness.
She found a meagre shelter, a hidden alcove beneath a cluster of thick bushes by the riverbank. It offered little comfort, just enough space to curl into a tight ball. Her cloak, pulled taut around her, did little to ward off the nightâs chill. Her stomach growled, a hollow, insistent ache, but the thought of foraging for berries felt like an insurmountable task. Exhaustion was a heavy cloak, heavier than the one she wore.
She sat, her gaze fixed on the distant, flickering sky. Then, unbidden, the tears came. Hot, wet rivulets traced paths down her dirty cheeks. She didn't fight them. She let them fall, a torrent of fear, of sadness, of crushing, undeniable guilt.
This was her fault. All of it. The burning towns. The endless, senseless fighting. The desperate acts of desperate people. The very magic that twisted and corrupted everything it touched. It had all begun with her. With her desperate wish for importance, for admiration. With her clumsy, selfish hands. All because she just wanted to matter. And now look. The world was shattered. She had shattered it. Sobs racked her body, long, shuddering tremors that left her trembling.
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She cried until her eyes felt raw, scoured dry, until no tears remained. The cold night air, surprisingly, brought a faint calm. She drifted into a restless sleep, haunted by flashes of distant light and spectral screams.
When the sun finally offered its weak, hazy light through the distant smoke, Elara pushed herself upright. Her limbs felt stiff, her skin chilled. Yet, her mind was quieter. The raw, jagged edge of pain had dulled, leaving behind a constant, throbbing ache. No tears came now. Just a profound emptiness.
She resumed her journey. The river meandered on. Trees grew thicker, their branches reaching higher, and the leaves becoming denser. The air, surprisingly, felt cooler and cleaner.
She walked for what felt like an eternity, her feet dragging, each step a monumental effort.
She stumbled into a small clearing, tucked among a thicket of bushes. It was quiet here, hushed. Rough grasses covered the ground, and a few ancient, gnarled trees stood like silent sentinels. The air was unnervingly still, unbroken by even a whisper of wind.
And then she saw them.
Two skeletons.
She froze. Her heart slammed against her ribs, a frantic, deafening drumbeat in the sudden silence.
They stood perfectly motionless in the center of the clearing, their bones a stark, bleached white in the hazy light. Each clutched a rusty sword in one bony hand and a dented shield in the other. Their eye sockets, empty and black, stared straight at her. They were monsters. Pure and simple.
Elaraâs breath hitched, trapped in her throat. No scream escaped her. She was too stunned. This wasnât like the goblin, with its frantic, aggressive movements. These were just⦠static. Waiting.
Run! Her mind screamed, a panicked, desperate echo. But her feet remained cemented to the earth. She stared at them, trying to make sense of the sight. They were deadly. They could kill her with a single, swift blow, just like the goblin had, countless times.
Then, one of them moved. Not towards her. Away. It bolted. A flash of white bones, scrambling like a terrified rabbit, disappearing into a dense bush on the far side of the clearing. Gone.
Elara blinked. Her gaze snapped to the other skeleton.
This one, astonishingly, hadnât stirred. It remained frozen, its empty sockets seemingly fixed on her. But there was something in its stillness, a subtle tremor in its bony shoulders, a kind of slumped posture. It looked⦠frightened. Utterly terrified, even.
Elaraâs brow furrowed. Frightened? A monster? A walking collection of bones? Of her? It made no sense. They hadnât seen her before. They knew nothing about her. She was just a tired, dirty girl, utterly defenseless. Why wasnât it attacking? It was armed. It could easily end her.
She took a tentative step back, slow and deliberate.
The skeleton reacted. Not with an attack. With pure panic. As if jolted by an invisible force, it dropped its sword and shield with a loud, clattering crash. Its bones rattled, a dry, hollow sound. Then, it spun, its bony back presented to her, and scurried. Fast. It scrambled after its companion, vanishing into the same thick bush. Its movements were clumsy, yet surprisingly quick, as if it were running for its very life.
Elara stood alone in the clearing. The air hung still and heavy. The only sounds were her own ragged breaths. Two skeletons. Fully armed. And they had fled. Afraid.
Confusion washed over her, a thick, swirling fog. Skeletons? Monsters? Terrified of a human who couldnât even fight? It was all completely inverted. Nothing in this twisted world made sense anymore.
A strange, unfamiliar sensation stirred within her. Not the familiar sting of fear, nor the heavy weight of guilt. Something new. Curiosity. A deep, burning, insistent curiosity. What was truly happening? Why were they so afraid? She had to know.
Cautiously, Elara reached for her belt, pulling out her small dagger. It felt ridiculously light in her palm, utterly useless against such creatures. Yet, she clutched it tight. Slowly, deliberately, she walked towards the bush where the skeletons had vanished. She pushed aside the rustling leaves, her eyes wide, peering into the shadows. She would follow them. She would find out why.