The slums that were once a place of solace and peace now echoed with the sound of war drums and the acrid stench of burning flesh. Heavy, thick smoke obscured her vision as she struggled to see. The choking odor of charred homes fueled her desperate desire to escape. Wrapping her shirt around her mouth, she crouched low, navigating her way around the fresh corpses of those who, only moments ago, had been living and breathing just like her.
She came face to face with a body whose eyeball protruded grotesquely from its socket, the empty cavity oozing pus as flies buzzed around it. A wicked smile was frozen on his face, stretched unnaturally wide, and she winced, bile rising in her throat. Yellow, coffee-stained teeth—crooked and incomplete—peered through his lips, adding to the macabre grin. The longer she stared, the more taunting the smile became.
'You're gonna end up like me. Pathetic, dead, ugly…'
The voice came unbidden, echoing in her mind. Maybe it was her imagination. Maybe she had finally succumbed to the madness surrounding her. Her head throbbed as the pounding of her heartbeat reverberated in her ears.
'Breathe in, breathe out. Slowly, in and out.'
Her heartbeat was erratic, pounding wildly in her chest as she struggled to remain calm.
She stumbled, fell, and her vision blurred.
Everything hurt—every bone, every muscle, every breath. Warm, sticky blood trickled down her forehead, clouding her sight. Her ribs ached, most likely shattered, as she crawled on all fours. The fire crept closer, the heat nipping at her skin, searing her flesh like a cruel embrace. Blood pooled at her fingertips, dripping into a spreading crimson puddle. Ragged breaths wheezed from her mouth, her lungs choking on her own blood.
'I don't want to die.'
Amidst the chaos, her legs gave out. She collapsed, gasping for air, each breath a strangled wheeze. She was alone. She was dying. Fat, warm tears streaked her cheeks, dripping into the pool of her own blood. Summoning her last reserves of strength, she rolled onto her back. Her clothes were charred, exposing raw, burned skin. A jagged, ugly scar stretched from her collarbone to her hip.
She pressed trembling fingers against the wound, trying to stem the bleeding. Pain rippled through her body as she hissed with each shallow breath. Her ankle was twisted grotesquely, the bone jutting out, slick with blood and torn flesh. Dragging herself backward, she took in the destruction of the junkyard she once called home. Everything was gone, consumed by the merciless flames.
Suddenly, a deafening blast shook the ground. A powerful gust of wind swept through, suffocating her.
They were here.
Her executioners had arrived. The king's decree was absolute: dead or alive, she was to be captured at all costs.
Her back collided with the scorched earth as a strangled gasp escaped her lips. Her vision blurred, the world turning red. Pain engulfed her, each wave worse than the last, and her ears rang with the echo of distant screams before they faded to silence.
She was losing blood—fast. For a fleeting moment, the world was quiet, save for the whispering wind. But the peace was short-lived. The ground trembled as something massive descended.
Through the haze, a reptilian behemoth loomed. Its colossal frame towered over the wreckage, exuding dominance and power. A creature of myth—spoken of only in bedtime stories—now stood before her.
It was majestic, awe-inspiring even amidst the carnage. Its emerald-green scales shimmered like armor, catching the moonlight in a dazzling display. Without warning, torrents of scorching flame erupted from its maw, reducing everything in its path to ash. The fire danced in vibrant hues of orange and red, casting the sky in an eerie glow. Rows of razor-sharp teeth gleamed behind the flames, and its horned head was a fearsome crown of power.
But its eyes—those hauntingly beautiful eyes—were mesmerizing. Dark green, like the lush leaves of autumn forests, they gleamed with intelligence and ancient wisdom, drawing her in like a moth to a flame.
Then, the dragon transformed. Through her blurry vision, she saw a figure emerge—dark, angelic, and otherworldly. No, "angel" wasn't enough to describe him. He was breathtaking, a living embodiment of perfection, as though Zeus himself had shaped him.
His dark green hair was tied into a tight bun, stray strands framing his face and adding to his allure. Thick brows shadowed monolid eyes, their swirling emerald irises both cold and piercing. His tall, muscular frame was accentuated by regal attire that marked him as royalty. Soldiers swarmed to his side, kneeling before him in submission.
He barked orders she couldn't hear, his voice a commanding presence that carried authority. Then, he moved forward.
Aspen whimpered as she struggled to her feet, adrenaline surging through her veins. Dragging her injured leg, she stumbled, sniffled, and wiped at her tear-streaked face. But when she looked back, she regretted it instantly.
Standing a few feet away was a monstrous beast, towering on its hind legs. Its thick, luxurious fur shifted in shades of rich brown and silver, rippling over its powerful frame. Hazel eyes glowed with untamed fury and feral hunger as it scanned the area. Its elongated snout curled into a snarl, revealing blood-stained, razor-sharp teeth.
It moved swiftly, its grace belying its size, lunging at a victim. Its jaws clamped down with brutal force, tearing flesh from bone. The wails of agony were cut short as the body went limp in its maw. Blood sprayed like a fountain, painting the air in red.
Aspen's gasp of terror did not go unnoticed. In an instant, the beast's massive paw collided with her head.
A piercing pain shot through her skull as she crumpled to the ground, clutching her head and sobbing uncontrollably. Darkness enveloped her, and she drifted away, helpless and broken.
Maybe it was because she was a child. A child, all alone in the madness.