"What the hell does that mean?" Astraea demands anxiously, the very name sending cold shivers down her spine at the unusual familiarity.
Jaegers
Jaegers
That was a Jaeger
Why did they send a Jaeger? Who are they even?
Paprika looks sympathetic, "Ah, I don't think he had the time to tell you. No matter, I will be happy to fill you in."
"Jaegers are the Monarch's personal royal army. They consist of the elite of the Gifted members who are trained in diligence and selected for their prowess. They serve under his direct command and they are ruthless and skilled. Jaegers can be considered assassins if you wish, they were said to be on the front lines of the Great Civil War, massacring thousands upon thousands. Only a fool will underestimate the might of those soldiers."
Astraea feels a little light headed, "…I see."
"I'm quite surprised you managed to escape at all. They're like wolves once they've sniff blood, relentless and skilled," Paprika says with a grin, "you must have been real lucky."
"Ah, yes…lucky indeed." It wasn't wrong, the whole situation only worked due to an extreme case of sheer dumb luck. Judging from Paprika's words and her own experience she didn't find it hard to believe the Lord.
She didn't know what to think, ice running down her spine and settling in her stomach, "But what would they send someone so high level? To a common house?"
"I could ask you the same sweet thing," Paprika says with a touch of amusement and incredulity, "I can only think of two possibilities why they would come there: either your girlfriend there is a high level criminal wanted by the Monarch, or a deserter from the ranks."
Beside her Cyrene stayed as unmoving as stone, her gaze blank and jaw tightened. Astraea feels lost; she turns completely to look the woman in the eye, trying to see even a glimpse of what could possibly give truth to Paprika's words.
She feels her mouth dry as they lock eyes for a moment. The silence is loud and oppressive.
'Who are you?'
'Who exactly are you Cyrene?'
'What did you do?'
Suddenly the woman who was absorbed in her knitting spoke up, her black eyes glistening with a wise look, "Get to the point Sister, there's information to be shared isn't there?"
Paprika laughs, "Aye, Aye. Pardon little sister," she jabs a thumb towards the woman, "this is my sister Timoclea, the Madame of the Affairs. She runs this little coven; I am merely its manpower."
Astraea bows politely.
"Now on to matters at hand. I'm pretty sure your old man must have told you I have arrangements for you both. I have many vast connections so I am confident I can find your friend there an awning and yourself a pardon."
"Really?"
Paprika seemed smug, "Why wouldn't I? Didn't I mention I have many connections?"
Astraea makes a noncommittal sound as Paprika begins talking again, "We can grant you asylum for a fortnight but that is all. Jericho isn't a very difficult obstacle to stop a Jaeger. I will alert the rest of the covens to keep an eye out just in case."
"But what of the war?" Astraea felt worried whether they would be caught in the crossfire.
Paprika frowned in a confused fashion, "What war?"
"The Civil war of course," Astraea says earnestly, "wouldn't you be caught in the crossfire trying to accommodate us? We are outside of Jericho aren't we?"
Paprika and Timoclea share a worried look between each other before looking at Astraea as if she had lost her mind. It began to make her feel more and more anxious, a rising chill thudding from her chest.
"The war…" she says, "there's a war out there. Outside Jericho…the civil war." For some reason her own words seemed to lack conviction, "isn't the war still ongoing?"
Now all three women were looking at her with a look akin to pity and confusion which was driving Astraea insane. Why were they hesitating? Why were they looking at her like that?
Paprika exhales softly, "My dear, do you know what year it is?"
"The year of the Phoenix, the twelfth sacred symbol of the Sundial. Why?"
"Very good, how long do you think the war has been going?"
"Why are you asking me this?" Astraea only feels more anxious.
"Answer the question."
Biting her lip she answers, "Fifty years now."
Timoclea speaks up this time, her voice gentle and sad, "Astraea, the war had ended fifteen years ago. In the year of the Black Sun. there has been no war since."
Hearing this Astraea suddenly felt lightheaded, all the air leaving her lungs and her chest filled with ice. Suddenly the room felt suffocating and her world felt flipped upside down, the words repeating like a mantra within her brain.
The war was over…
How was it over?
When…why?
How come nobody knew?
Astraea felt the beginnings of the powerful migraine nipping at her temples, threatening to make her black out as her mind struggled to understand. She didn't realize her breathing had reduced to heavy wheezes until she felt warm hands gripping her shoulders and rubbing them comfortingly. She looked up to see Cyrene's gaze locked on her as she held her comfortingly.
"Breathe," Cyrene said softly, her burgundy eyes comforting and calm as she helped guide her own breathing back to normal. Her body felt lighter and the heaviness in her skull was lessened as if by magic.
"Thank you," she said quietly to which Cyrene answered with a gentle squeeze on her shoulders. Astraea looked at Paprika and asked in a small voice,
"Is it really over?"
Paprika nodded.
"Then…all those people. Those children, their mothers and fathers and family members…." Astraea remembers the mother from before who happily spoke of her son who was Gifted and was now in the army. What of that boy? What would his mother be thinking right now?
"There is no war for over fifteen years now," Timoclea says, "after the fall of the Black Sun there have been Jaegers, groups of gifted soldiers now camped far West. They're not attacking, rather they are grouped there and we cannot tell what's happening."
Since civil war and all of its matters had withdrawn, the army camps had not withdrawn, but rather they've grouped under several locations and have made no move nor a cry for war and redemption. Since the Black Sun it was easy to assume the battle was over, however the eerie activity in the camps were brining worries to the Covens of the two states. During the fight since most of the lands had been decimated these groups were the last standing and the Kingdom of Earnest had taken part in this fight.
Strangely enough, Earnest did not attack to defend its territory from the opposing states at war with each other, rather it attacked both states and the survivors including these Covens and their civilians going against the treaty proposed. They had attacked at the crux of the war and there has been much damage since. The current army camps are surrounded by powerful incantations that no one knows how to get through leaving little knowledge to the outside world.
Beyond the walls of Jericho were much destruction and deceit.
To hear all of this from the two leaders of the Coven of the Silver Lion made Astraea's heart ache. Her mind struggled to process it all.
"But…the king…the troops….the Gifted ones. Why didn't they tell us?"
Paprika bore a somber expression, "What's there to tell? It's all a dark tale and a sham. No doubt that king of yours Abel has something nefarious planned. We just can't figure out what it is."
Astraea feels conflicted and guilty. These were her people after all and it was her Monarch. To hear something so upsetting and unbelievable about the ruler who was to represent herself and her own people made her feel deeply embarrassed in the presence of the very people he offended.
"Ah, I'm afraid I don't know what to think of it," she says guiltily, "you must understand even I knew nothing of this and I don't think any citizen of Earnest does either."
Paprika looks at her with an unreadable look and says nothing.
"But I must ask, the war has been over since the fall of this Black Sun, yes?" beside her Cyrene seemed to tense at the mention of the name, but she ignored it in favor of curiosity.
It was Timoclea who nods, "Yes."
"What is the Black Sun then? To have such a power over an entire war?"
Paprika let out a hollow chuckle that seemed to hide a plethora of emotions, "Not what, but who."
Astraea blinks, "The Black Sun is…a person?"
She receives a nod. "Then, who are they?
'What kind of power do they have to have affected an entire war?'
Paprika stares at her long and hard strangely, "The former Captain of the Jaegers, the ace of the Royal Military and the King's lapdog. They slaughtered more people than there were grains in a handful of sand." Her tone seemed bitter and angry.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Astraea says, feeling deeply sorry for the woman. Her head still throbbed slightly making her eyes feel heaty but she ignored it in favor of listening intently.
After a moment of silence, Paprika closed her eyes as if bracing herself before her eyes turned steely and cold, "So am I."
In the blink of an eye, a number of things all happened at once. Astraea felt her body go numb as something pricked her in the neck making the hairs on her body stand as it collapsed heavily to the ground. As she fell, she could hear Cyrene call out angrily at Paprika.
"HUNTER!" she growled loudly as she cocked her pistols and pointed directly at the sisters who stood unfazed.
"I wouldn't be so quick to draw weapons, General Castedras," said Paprika, "my archers aren't fond of those who play with dangerous weapons."
As if to prove a point, an arrow zipped past nicking a fine line across Cyrene's bicep causing a thin line of red to form. Astraea felt her chest and belly grow cold in panic. Despite her desperation, she couldn't move a single muscle, nor could a sound escape her throat. Her eyes locked on Cyrene who was looking at her intently as if she were calculating and couldn't bear taking her eyes away in fear.
The archers could not be seen, to which Astraea assumed they must be hiding up using the open roof as an advantage. Yet her mind was also in a mess; why was Paprika doing this? What did she do to offend her?
Her head still ached but she was determined to move her body. As if sensing her attempt Paprika glances at her, "The venom is made from Ixora flowers so you won't be able to move for over five hours, not without bursting one of your veins so I would not recommend moving."
Cyrene looked livid, her red irises glowing with dormant magic and rage as she glared at the Head of the coven who admittingly found the very stare sending chills down her spine in apprehension.
"Why?" Cyrene snarls, weapons refusing to be put down.
Paprika glares back at her head on, "Why not? You know very well as much as I do!"
Astraea felt more confused. Did Cyrene know something she didn't?
"Let her go, she is innocent," Cyrene says.
Paprika laughs hoarsely, "Innocent? Innocent my ass, General we all know who she really is. Do you think we have forgotten her crimes against us? The blood she spilled from us?"
Cyrene looked distressed as she looked at Astraea who felt equally distressed.
Astraea made a few weak muffled sounds that resembled pained whimpers that turned Cyrene's expression to stone. Paprika regarded her with unhidden distaste and anger,
"Silence murder. You will now be tried for your crimes against my people, Captain Ravenwood. The Black Sun of Jericho."
At that moment Astraea wanted to scream.
How can that be me?
I'm the Black Sun?
What the fuck does that mean? I have never so much as killed a fly in my entire life!
Astraea truly wanted to applaud Paprika's performance and skills of deception. The woman had truly presented herself as a welcoming host and had the courtesy of healing her and keeping her in her coven to recover when she could have easily killed her anytime she pleased. However, she didn't find that thought too comforting.
She tried to move, but her muscles refused to cooperate, throbbing every time she did as much as breathing deeply. Beside her, Cyrene was livid, yet despite her boiling anger, there was a bit of confusion hidden under it all. Perhaps even she did not know much about the matter. Her eyes widened.
The once Escapee stood there, red irises glowing eerily and face stony in fury as she stared down Paprika who now looked at her in open apprehension. The air grew cold and restless as if a storm were brewing. The look on her countenance paired with the uncanny eyes made a twinge of fear run down her spine, yet Astraea desperately wanted to calm her and help so that they both could run away, however her body was completely useless.
Paprika stood her ground, "You cannot compensate for the damage she has done. She had razed my home to the ground, killed my people, and turned me and my sister into orphans! Countless lives fell into her hands and she took it without mercy. Tell me general, what would you do?"
Cyrene said nothing, uncertainity staining her glare. Her eyes darted between Paprika and Astraea constantly as if to assess the truth. The moment she tried to move, another arrow whizzed past, narrowly avoiding her head.
"One more move and I'm afraid you both won't be saying any goodbyes," the leader says emotionlessly. She unsheathed a gold-colored blade from the folds of her dress. It glinted eerily in the dim light of the open sky hall as she stepped down the dais languidly, eyes filled with hatred.
Astraea groaned loudly, the pain in her head becoming increasingly unbearable. It was loud enough to break Cyrene's eye contact for a moment, eyes flashing with worry before fixing again on Paprika. Behind her, Timoclea notices her strained expression and grows worried.
"She seems paler," she comments softly.
Paprika scoffed, "Good. Let her be."
Timoclea looked as if she wanted to say more but shut her mouth instead.
The scene brought a new wave of nausea and nostalgia as her head ached. Her vision turned spotty, and her ears started ringing, the burning sensation on her back awakened again with static voices beginning to form in her mind.
'...what do we do with them?'
'leave'
'They seem hurt'
'...kill them'
Suddenly Astraea screamed, startling the whole room. It was bone-chilling and agonizing that even Paprika showed a flash of concern. Cyrene felt her blood run cold as she watched Astraea's eyes roll back leaving only the whites to be seen.
"What the fuck is wrong with her?!" Paprika demanded, her stance tense as she eyed the woman on the ground, writhing softer now as if her muscles were relaxing. 'The poison should not have worn off,' she thought worriedly.
Cyrene rounded on the head of the coven with bloodthirsty eyes, "What did you do?"
"Nothing," Paprika barked, "Ixora venom can't be so easy to dismiss. Clearly, something's wrong with her."
In that moment, silence fell upon the whole courtyard the moment Astraea stopped moving. Her body lay still at an odd angle, eyes unblinking as they aimed at the ceiling.
Her voice seemed lost. "Flank division...aim for the district..."
The three women in the room felt increasingly agitated as they watched her slowly rise, eyes white as the ashes of burnt magic and mouth slack.
Astraea began walking, slow and shaky steps like that of a newborn foul. Her mind is completely blank with nonsensical words buzzing through her skull over and over. Cyrene looked pained as she called out.
"Astraea?" she called out in a small voice.
Astraea halted before turning her head in the direction of the other's voice. Paprika stood solemnly as if waiting to see what would happen next. Timoclea gasped softly, eyes softening in pity.
"Oh dear," she says.
Cyrene glares at her, "What is it?"
Timoclea shakes her head, "Her mind is fractured."
"Fractured?"
"Yes," Timoclea looks at the white-eyed woman with sympathy, "I have not seen many of them, but those are the eyes of the ones whose mind had fractured with time."
Cyrene became more agitated, "Why?"
Timoclea said, "I'm not sure. There can be many reasons for the mind to choose to inflict damage to itself. There must be something that either refuses her mind to remember or something she wants to forget."
Cyrene stared at Astraea for a moment. All of a sudden, she began crying, startling the present company.
"Where are you?" she asked in a wounded voice, "I can't see you."
The three women watched as she fumbled about, the poison completely worn off as she cried out, pearlescent tears running down her face.
"Where are you? Where are you? I was waiting...I was waiting for so long," she sobbed, "we were supposed… we were supposed to… remember?"
Cyrene instantly gasped, her eyes filling with pain.
"Where did you go? I missed you. I missed you," Astraea cried once more, her voice almost childlike and filled with sorrow. Cyrene immediately moved forward with her arms outstretched while her eyes had turned red.
"I'm here!" she said, hoping Astraea would hear her, "I didn't leave. I'm here-"
"I've had enough of this," Paprika snapped with a disgusted look. She raised two fingers in the air, ignoring Timoclea's look of outrage and Cyrene's roar as she turned her attention to her in fury, "You can have your fun in hell."
She brought the two fingers down and instantly a hailstorm of deadly arrows fell from above, skewering everything in its path. The air smelled toxic and Cyrene instantly curled up into herself in protection, waiting for the incoming impact and for the arrows to pierce through her. However, not a single one touched her.
She raised her head in confusion as the arrows continued to rain only to be greeted with a shocking sight.
Astraea was standing straight as if nothing had happened, her body stiff in the soldier's stance ready for an attack. Her irises were still white, but her body seemed to emit a strange black glow that seeped into the air and entangled itself to its surroundings. The atmosphere hummed like the growl of a predator steadying for an attack.
As the arrows filled with poison rained from above, none of them seemed to be able to touch Cyrene or herself as if stopped by an invisible force that halted their descent before uselessly dropping onto the ground. Astraea on the other hand seemed stony and impassive, a fearsome look that sent shivers down the spines of the inhabitants.
Paprika felt her jaw slack as the image before her overlapped with her deepest memories, her darkest ones.
The smell of blood and ash seeping into her nostrils and skin.
The screams of her people, her sister whining in her arms while clawing her clothes. Her whole body shakes in fear as the rain of arrows pours from the blackened heavens. people dropped lifelessly in massive numbers, the bodies of her parents not too far away from them.
Paprika's chest was drenched in the ice-cold fear of death and the despair lodged itself in her throat as she clung to her sister so tightly that it made her squirm.
There amidst the smoke and ash stood the imposing stature of a woman encased in a dark halo, her gold irises colder than frost seemed to glow as she stared at the mass of people dying. Her blood red cloak fluttered in the wind, her face smudged with a spot of red as she stood, and not a single arrow touched her as she watched.
Suddenly, those eerie gold eyes locked onto Paprika causing her whole body to freeze over and her heart to thunder painfully in her chest. The soldier stared long and hard, their eyes locked for what felt like an eternity.
On that terrible day, the Black Sun uttered the words that she never forgot for the rest of her life.
Astraea suddenly locked eyes with Paprika sending violent chills of deja vu through her body. That look, it was that same look fifteen years ago. Cold and unfeeling like a statue of marble. Only this time, the chilling gold was replaced with an eerie white instead.
Cyrene ran towards her and took her by the shoulders with an expression drenched with worry, "Astraea. What's wrong?"
'Who did this to you?' was the unsaid question that hung aimlessly in the air.
Astraea does not reply. She stares at Paprika unblinkingly for a long moment as if calculating. Timoclea stands near her sister with a wary expression. Astraea then slowly turns to look at Cyrene, her expression still blank.
"Astraea?" Cyrene calls out again.
"Is the mission complete?" Astraea says monotonously.
Cyrene blinks in confusion, "What?"
"Good," Astraea continued as if she did not hear anything, "South Dawnmore is successfully wiped out. That is all his Majesty needs to know."
The crew watched her with a puzzled expression. Paprika was merely growing more and more anxious and impatient.
"What is she blabbering about? What kind of nonsense is this?!" she demands.
Timoclea, on the other hand, silences her with an answer, "She's dreamwalking."
"Dreamwalking?" Cyrene whispered in a horrified tone. Timoclea gives a sad nod. Paprika stares emotionlessly at Astraea who still stands unmoving.
"Dreamwalking?" she says absently. Her sister nods, "It often occurs in those with fractured minds. Their memories begin to surface abruptly and violently leaving them in such a state for a period of time. Right now, she's reliving a hidden memory."
Astraea, meanwhile, felt like she was trapped in a dense fog. Her mind felt numb and her body weighed nothing. It was like being trapped in a senseless void in absolute darkness, she couldn't understand what was happening except for the voices in her head. For one moment, her head had been filled with a burning pain with fractions of images flashing before her, now her mind was blank with a single set of voices.
'All inhabitants of Little Yullard have been wiped out, My Chief,' an unfamiliar voice said. It sounded old and male.
'Good,' her own voice echoes strangely, 'is the mission complete?'
'Yes, My Chief.'
'And what of the outside of South Dawnmore?'
'No survivors left.'
'Well done. Report this to His Majesty immediately.'
It was like hearing a record of your own voice. Astraea did not know what to feel about it.
'But madam,' the voice pursues, 'what of General Castedras? Should we not notify her?'
A short pause was left before her voice echoed, 'No. She does not need to know.'
'Mada-'
'Are you questioning my authority Sergeant?' her voice now sounded dangerously thin and cold. It was like she was chiding a little child, masking the temperament coiled inside.
'...no madam.' was their meek reply.
Suddenly the world turned black; Astraea never knew what happened after that.
Meanwhile, Cyrene had decided she had reached the end of her patience. Her face turned into stone and her body tense like a lion ready to pounce. A blood-red aura engulfed her entire body while her red irises glowed maliciously. Paprika noticed this and was quick to turn around and aim her gold knife toward her, but before it could touch her a gnarled hand shot out and caught the offending weapon midair.
Paprika and Timoclea's eyes widened in shock and terror as they stared at the gnarled hand as black as charcoal with the stench of rot emitting from it. They stared at Cyrene who had a deadly blank expression. Her hand was stretched towards the ground.
Paprika felt the blood drain from her face.
Instantly, a thousand more rotten limbs tore out from the surface revealing mangled corpses rising from the ground, eerie gurgling noises droning from their throats. They were usually silent, however the ferocity of their auras made them creak and groan as if in great pain.
Paprika cursed loudly. How could she have forgotten Cyrene's infamous technique? One that drowned living people back to the ground of their dead ancestors? If there lived the Black Sun, there also lived the commander of the damned. General Castedras had earned many titles to her name: the Commander of the Undead, Reaper of Souls and the Lady of the Damned. Her Gift might as well be known as a curse.
Like marionettes the ghoulish corpses burrowed their way out of the earth and lined themselves, some dressed in rags while some were burnt beyond recognition. Their appearance made the Coven Lord's stomach sink - they were the corpses of those who died all those years ago during the siege in Little Yullard.
"General! Have you no shame?!! How DARE you sully my ancestors!!" she bellowed enraged. Cyrene does not offer her any words of taunt or apology. She calmly walked through the army of the dead that rapidly rose from the ground before standing where they stood, awaiting her command.
Paprika felt an insurmountable anger filling her body, gritting her teeth hard enough to turn them to dust. "You are a coward General," she spat, "and that mongrel of yours is but nothing a whore to her own nation!!"
A sudden pressure erupted from her throat, ceasing her hateful speech. Paprika's eyes widened comically large while her sister cried out in fear.
"Let her go, General, please!" Timoclea begged as she watched the arm of the burnt cadaver gripping her sister's throat tightly, slowly suffocating her.
Cyrene looks at her for a long moment before a new look clouds her eyes, Timoclea hoped it was pity. Surely, she would feel a drop of sympathy? She knew deep down Astraea would, she hoped the Dark General had the same mercy in her. But that mercy never came.
"I owe nothing to you," Cyrene says monotonously, her gaze unmoving like stone.
Paprika gurgled pitifully, summoning one of her arms despite her weakened state before making a signal with an index and middle finger. The battle horn rang across the mansion.
Instantly, a horde of soldiers ran into the Main Hall, armed with deadly double-edged spears and armor made of gold. The sounds of their feet stomping on the ground and the clang of metal pierced through the air.
Cyrene stood unfazed, her red irises still glowing as she calmly observed the miniature army. Her eyes darted between each soldier as if calculating. Then she lifted a single finger condensed with a strong red aura and drew a strange symbol.
The air felt like it had gained an intense density, a pressure that was weighing down all the bodies present. It was like suddenly nobody could move their muscles properly as if their armour had suddenly weighed several hundred kilos making movement extremely difficult. Timoclea herself felt this immense weight rendering her immobile. She began to panic.
"What have you done?" she cried out, "what have you done?!"
Cyrene offers no answer. She stands with an almost lazy expression. From the ground erupted more corpses that bloomed like weeds, shrieking and groaning. They didn't seem to stop!
It was almost as if Cyrene was pouring all her frustration through her magic that simmered in the air. She took causal steps towards Paprika who was struggling for air, her face slowly turning purple. Despite her state, Paprika's dark eyes were wide and hateful as she met the other's eyes. Timoclea, who could not move, begged with tears flowing endless down her eyes.
"Mercy General! Please! She is all I have! We're sorry! We're sorry!"
Cyrene turned to look at her. "You broke what I had left," she said.
"What do you mean?"
Cyrene looked at Astraea who still stood unmoving, her head jerking very slightly with her lips twitching. Her eyes were still an eerie shade of white, almost lifeless as the milky eyes of the corpses that tore at the Silver Lion's soldiers.
The muscle in her jaw visibly tightened, "You lied to us."
Timoclea looked at her with a gaping expression, her face rapidly turning pale. Around her, many men were being torn to pieces by the army of the dead that was rapidly spreading.
"I-I don't understand," she says.
Cyrene now begins walking slowly towards her. Timoclea felt her heart drop with fear, her limbs trembling in effort to try and escape. This was the wrath of the Lady of the Damned, the terror of her powers shrouding the air, channelling her fury. Her eyes were the colour of fresh blood yet holding no emotion as she stared at her enemies.
The General now towered over her form with an impassive look, "You planned this all along did you not?"
Timoclea really began shivering, "I don't know! I don't know! We just did what we were told!"
"Really?" Cyrene says nonchalantly.
"Yes! We were ordered…we were promised…" Timoclea was babbling now. The fear of losing her sister and her own life rendering her throat tight with pain. The screams of her soldiers amplified the fear.
Nearby, the cadaver holding Paprika finally let go of her, dropping her half-unconscious body carelessly with a loud thump. Her breathing was extremely ragged, and her throat was heavily bruised.
"Paprika!" she cried out in relief.
"Should I let you live?" Cyrene asks in a cynical tone. Timoclea feels her body freeze.
"W-what?"
Cyrene looks at her contemplatively "I know who ordered you."
The single phrase shattered the confidence Timoclea had left in herself. Her face began a deadly shade of white.
"Your sister was but a fool ridden with greed and revenge. You are willing to follow her every step," Cyrene says. Her eyes glinted as she spoke, "perhaps you are willing to follow her to where I am about to send her?"
With those ominous words, a sickening crunch echoed. Timoclea screamed.
"NONONONONOO YOU SAID! YOU TOLD SO! HOW DARE YOU?!!" she screamed in horror. Her sister now lay unmoving, blood seeping from her lips. The corpse that stood beside her finally dissolved into dust as if it were never there.
"I said nothing," Cyrene says, "I only asked. I never promised you anything."
Timoclea roared, grief and anguish curled tightly in her chest as she wept loudly. "WHY!" she sobbed, gripping her hair and clawing the floor till her fingertips were bleeding, "WHY WHY WHY?!!"
"I already told you," the General says with a blank expression, "you broke what I had left. You knew what you were doing, and you allowed it, blinded by your own revenge," she looks straight at her, red irises glowing dangerously, "now, I will exact my revenge."
With another seal carved into the air, the mansion suddenly erupted in flames. Man and corpse all burning within the red flames that did not cease their path of destruction. The Silver Lion erupted into chaos. Men, women, and children were running around frantically, crying out for help.
'Help us!"
"Where is the Lord? What happened to her!?"
"Has anyone seen my baby?!!"
"Save us please!"
"The Silver Lion is on fire!!"
Timoclea felt helpless as she stared at the tall form between the flames, her face nonchalant as many of her people ran for their lives while her men were burnt to ashes. It wasn't fair. Why them? Why did she feel no remorse?
The weight of her sins was now destroying their home.
The healers were also frantically running about, gathering their essentials and desperately trying to get as many people as possible to safety. The Head healer Hafsah barked out orders while keeping her eyes out for any signs of the escapees. She had secretly watched the whole scene unfold with solemn eyes. She knew there was a reason behind the taller woman's actions, but it didn't quell the raging anger inside her at the destruction of their home. She hated lies.
Lemon ran back and forth, his face streaked with ash and sweat with his belongings clutched tightly in his hands. He caught up to Hafsah and tugged her.
"Where are the others? What happened to the Lord?"
Hafash merely looked at him for a moment with an unreadable look, "You're better off not knowing. Gather the rest of the children and get out of here!"
"But Hafsah!" he protested.
"Do as I say you stupid boy!" she growled, "this fire is not normal. Linger and you will never see the next day! Now hurry!"
His body tensed while his eyes glittered with unshed tears. However, he grits his teeth and nods before rounding up the rest of the people and running. His feet and arms were blistered yet he had to keep running. As he ran passing the Main Hall he froze to see a terrifying sight.
Their Lord was unmoving on the ground, blood dried in the corners of her mouth and her sister lay close, blood pooled around her head from a small wound on her forehead. The tall pale woman stood looming over them, her arms carrying the other one, Astraea, tenderly in her arms. She was looking at her with an unreadable look that was gentle while Astraea lay in her arms unblinking with milky white eyes. Suddenly the taller looked up and locked eyes with Lemon instantly making his body freeze and his blood turn cold in terror.
Blood-red eyes stared at him like a predator in the darkness of the night, eerie and dangerous and reeking of power. It stared at him through the red flames, untouched by its heat. Lemon felt his bones turn to mud and his legs threatened to give out. A hand harshly grabbed his shoulder making him gasp loudly, his heart thundering in his chest. It was Hafsah.
"What are you doing idiot?!! I told you to-"
She halted at the sight of the two women. Her expression was mixed with shock and fear as she stared at them.
"I see," she says quietly. Lemon does not understand why she said that.
He had a thousand questions burning at the tip of his tongue but he couldn't bring himself to speak. Hafsah grabs his arm, albeit gentler than before, and steers him away from the scene.
"Stop staring like some lunatic. We need to get out of here!"
They fled as the two figures stood in the fire. Soon, they vanished without a trace.