"Hurry, into the entrance!" Reeca called to the mass of shard fairies as she stabbed a warrior by the neck. She threw him off with a kick to the stomach. He slammed into the rest of the platoon assigned to break Reeca's plan off.
Her feet dangled a good few inches off the ground, spearing anyone who dared come for the throng of shard fairies evacuating into the forest. Her magic blazed from her arms as held up a wall made of branches and leaves, keeping the fairies from assaults from the rear. Reeca's sword dealt with the ones who found a way to get through.
Just a few more minutes.
Pulrin shouted for order, his voice ringing against the mountain's rumbling. What in the world was Elred doing up there? Rabante's ground shook. Cries of alarm swept through the shard fairies edging towards the bunker's entrance. How many more were still out? Was this all of Rabante?
Children clung to their mothers as both stared up at the groaning mountain. The army seemed to have forgotten their ascent and craned their necks as well. Reeca gripped her sword tighter. "Hurry up! How many more?" Reeca shouted at the line of trees hoping the wind carried it enough to Pulrin's location. A garbled reply came after. Hundreds. Probably.
A warrior screamed and hacked against Reeca's wall. In a flash, his arm was added into it. Reeca's sword dripped with blood. A few shard fairies who made it past her wall ducked their heads in thanks. Reeca's heart wrenched. She was tasked with this. Of course, she had to protect them.
Ugh, Xanthy would melt if that brownie ever knew about this. Cirasa, who stayed behind at the rear, glanced at her. Reeca's heart did a little skip. She growled. Stop it. She shook her head. This was a place for evacuation and not a flirting ground.
The mountain thundered and several chunks of the plateau shot towards them. Slow. They were going so slow. Glass walls sped through the trees' canopies but shattered as the chunks slammed into them. A scream tore through the queue. Pulrin shouted for order once more. Someone stumbled. Reeca cursed What in Emeria's name was Elred doing there?
Then, the earth shook. What—
A wave of magic swept from the top of the plateau and into the lower ground, hitting Reeca like a fishing vessel's paddle to the stomach. Her eyes widened as her weaving energy flickered. What's going on?
A deep rumbling sound echoed from the distance. The army gave a collective, terrified gasp. Reeca whirled to the plateau to find a carpet of rock, glass, and magic forming at the lip. Then, the avalanche sped towards Rabante.
"Into the bunker!" she yelled at the crowd. Panic was thick in the air, coloring the trees red. There's still a good number of shard fairies in the open. "Get inside!"
Soldiers turned and began following the shard fairies towards the bunker. Reeca cursed. Cowards, the lot of them.
Then, a sea of red dropped like swatted insects into the army. Reeca knitted her eyebrows. Nadia's mages? Judging from the screams of alarm that floated over the army, they're far gone. Reeca sent more of her weaving energy into her wall and dropped to the ground. She pushed back against the stampeding army. What was that strong blast of magic?
The avalanche roared for them. Reeca cursed. "Pulrin!" She called to somewhere behind her. Cirasa was gone from the rear. "Shut the bunker!"
Wings tinkled. Screams from both the army and the shard fairies painted the dusty air. The smell of upturned roots and vines drew closer. No time. No—
A wall slammed into her. Everything went dark. No.
Her head throbbed as the feeling in her limbs went back. What happened? Darkness hugged her body even as she blinked her stinging eyes. The smell of excrement mixed with burning glass made her gag. She flexed her back and her wings wouldn't budge. Was she...
Was she stuck? Reeca exhaled, noting how thick the air was. Her magic blazed to life in her fingertips as she pressed them on a crumbly wall atop her. She screamed as she drove her weaving energy out in a desperate torrent. The darkness exploded with a hiss when light flooded in. Reeca gasped as fresh air passed through her nose. Her head poked through the hole she made but her legs were still trapped underneath mounds of mud and glass.
The dust settled. Slowly. Smoke ebbed away from Reeca's eyes with a hiss to reveal a landscape she couldn't picture to still be Rabante. The once towering trees were buried under a thick layer of what used to be the plateau's lip. Glass shards and even discernible parts of the once great mansions in Abshire stuck out from the elevated floor. Reeca's stomach turned. What happened? She remembered the plateau coming at them. She had yelled at the others to take cover then at Pulrin to seal the entrance. Why did she do that?
"Ria!" a familiar voice rang in Reeca's ears.
She whirled to find Cirasa trudging towards her. He had ditched his varichria glamour, showing off his white, Rabante robes now flecked with mud. One of his arms hung limply from its socket. His hair had turned ocher from all the soil stuck into it.
He got around Reeca and started clawing at the mud with his hands, digging her out. Reeca shrugged and helped out too. After a while, Reeca kicked her legs out of the pit with a grunt. She spread her hands and collapsed into the lumpy surface.
After a while, she drew back up and faced Cirasa. "Where is everyone?" she flicked her gaze around. Nothing except dark earth and glass. "Those who got inside, are they okay? How did you get out?"
"The bunker people are safe," Cirasa blew a breath. "They met with the noble families in the common lounge underground. I was able to sneak around and found a way to activate the entrance," his eyes softened. "I can't leave you out here without knowing if you're alive or not."
Reeca pursed her lips, waiting for Cirasa to say it. "As for those who are left," the shard fairy averted his eyes. "They're dead. All of them."
Reeca's throat constricted. "No..." she lunged forward, proceeding to claw against the ground with her fingers. "There has to be someone like me who made it out alive! I made it out alive. There's bound to be someone, anyone—"
Strong hands gripped her arms. Reeca squirmed but they didn't let go. Cirasa's voice rang in her ear. Pained. Breathy. "There's no one, Ria," he whispered. "I felt their synnavaimis go back. Their trails had moved on. I saw and I felt it all."
Reeca froze. Her breath came in shallow gasps as tears pricked her eyes. Strength left her limbs and she crashed against Cirasa who snaked his arms around her shoulders.
She cursed, running the back of her hands through her cheeks. She wouldn't cry. Not in front of a boy. Who were these people anyway? It's not like they've been part of her life. They wouldn't remember her like she wouldn't remember any of them. There was no mutual connection between them.
Then why was she crying?
She recalled the first time she stepped foot in Rabante and witnessed a live, bustling city. These people have lives. They're all trying to live. Children, women, even fairies who had a few wrinkles on their skin. They believed that they would be saved.
They could have had a future. How come she survived but they didn't?
"Hey," Cirasa's gentle voice made blood rise to her face. At the same time, she wanted to drown in it. She rested her head on his shoulder as his arms dropped to her waist.
"Don't tell anyone about this," Reeca sniffed. She pressed her face against his neck. Who was this person and why could she do this with him? "It's the one thing only you can know."
Cirasa buried his hand in her hair. "None of this is your fault, Ria."
"Rikavien," she laid her hand over his chest as she whispered.
Cirasa inclined his head down to peer at her. "What?"
"Rikavien," she said. A small smile played on her lips. "That's my name."
Cirasa chuckled. "You little liar," he breathed. "We have to make a shard fairy out of you yet."
Reeca melted into his embrace. "Promise me you'll never talk about what happens here," she whispered. "It's the least you could do."
Cirasa didn't ask. He nodded. "I promise."
Reeca blew a breath. There, in the midst of the graves of hundreds of shard fairies, she let herself cry.