Ignite

Sixty || Build-An-Army Workshop

"We'll recover," I say, "rest up, train, and then we'll find Izila."

"Then what?"

"We'll get rid of her."

My voice is quiet but the words land like an anchor. There will be no hesitation this time.

"So you're sending them to war?"

It's challenging in the way he says it; mild, calm, not looking at me.

"I–" My response starts, stops, falters, fails. "I...I didn't think it was a question to fight." I say finally.

"It isn't for you." Coal says. He surveys the crowd of mingling people. "They're kids, bakers, clerks. Not soldiers. A lot of them don't want to be here, much less in a fight."

I swallow. "Where do you want to be?"

Coal shifts his weight, eyes ahead. My stomach twists. He's right. These people aren't soldiers, my team isn't made of soldiers, it's made of kids. We're not an army, we're hardly even a we in the first place.

Coal hasn't answered. It fuels my panic and then I've made a decision, starting to walk away.

"What are you doing?" Coal asks.

"Something insane."

I jog up to an empty table at the center of the room and jump onto it. No one pays attention at first, until I shower some hail balls at the floor that sound like gunfire. In an instant, all eyes turn to me.

"Um, hi." I say.

Silence.

I clear my throat. Get it together, Tide.

"How many of you live in this city?" I ask. Most hands go up. I nod, feeling sick. "Right. This is your home. And it's been destroyed by a woman named Izila."

People around the edges of the room have gathered. I can make out the faces of Steel, Terra, Jensen – Anika.

I let my gaze search the room, catch on the beaten faces of everyday people.

"Izila believes that the human race is inferior to people like her–" I swallow. "To people like me. She believes that humans should be destroyed."

My heart is starting to beat in my ears, my mouth going dry.

"I don't." I say, strong, loud, echoing off the ruined walls. "I believe that this planet is yours just as much as it is mine. I believe that there is a middle ground, and we can find peace."

It sounds cliché and I work to keep a grimace off my face. My posture is rigid, each breath watched by every person in the room.

"I know that this was your home. I know that your home has been taken from you. I know that Izila will do this to every city in the country, everywhere in the world, until there is nothing left for you."

My voice rings out over the silence, the static, the air charged with confusion and anger.

"I know that she can be stopped." I say. "And I know that I can't do it alone."

"What do you want from us?" someone shouts, the location of their voice undefinable.

I open my mouth, gaze locking onto Anika's. She has her arms folded over her chest, eyes narrowed. I was not part of her plan.

"I want you to fight with me," I say truthfully. "I want you to fight against Izila. And that's what I'm asking you to do. I can't – and I won't try – to make you. But I am asking you. I'm asking you to fight, I'm asking you to give what you have left even after you've lost everything." My voice wavers and I clamp down on the part of me that wants to cry. "I'm asking you to fight because somewhere there's a house with a lit fireplace, because somewhere there's a backyard with a swing set, somewhere there is a laughing toddler and a barking dog. I'm asking you to fight because somewhere someone has what you've lost, and they're about to lose it too. I'm asking you to fight because we can stop that, we can save them. Together."