The fort was unrecognizable. Nowhere in sight were the fancy rugs, the flamboyant paintings, the rusty suits of armour or the ostentatious machinery that usually adorned the hallways. The heavy chandelier laid on top of the pile of rubble that now covered the entire floor. Stupefied, she looked up and saw that Leverfort no longer had a ceiling. It collapsed entirely.
Viola and the Viscount were steps away from the catacombs' exit when they saw the ceiling crumbling in front of them, blocking their way out. The roar of an angry beast followed. The decaying walls and the cracking floor let them know there was no way out. Their only choice was going back to the fort.
So they did. They ran back, past the cells and into a large and barely lit hallway, the same she walked through only a couple of days ago. Stepping into the light of the fort, they encountered the devastation and understood immediately.
"We're too late," she mumbled but she hardly had time to grief.
The Viscount elbowed her in the ribs and she turned to where the fort's entrance once stood. Her heart must've stopped, because for a moment or two, she failed to register anything she saw. She heard nothing, either. She simply stood there, mouth opened, in shock at what she witnessed. Out there in the square, in broad daylight, as if it was a common sight, a colossal machine rampaged the city with the power of a hundred guns.
It looked like a bird, almost like a canary: It had wings, a round head, a plump body and a very small beak. However, unlike a real one, the machine's tail was long, thick and curved, and in ended on a sharp and menacing sting, more similar to a scorpion's than a canary's. And, to Viola's surprise, it seemed unable to fly. It spread its wings occasionally, but instead of soaring, it merely jumped around, using them more as blades to destroy, rather than propellers to fly.
On the floor, like meaningless rodents, the RoyalCorps, led by the Shark, circled the bird, trying their best to stop it. They barely touched it, though. The hulking machine was almost as tall as Leverfort itself when standing straight. Its wings wide were enough to cover the entire square if spread. But what truly shocked Viola was its hidden weapon: Opening its small beak, the bird released a powerful stream of continuous fire.
The screams of agony pierced Viola's very soul: People still lingered in the square. Perhaps buried under mountains of rubble, or maybe simply too scared to try and run away. Heat took over her face and she felt tears sliding down her one good eye. Her body vibrated as a familiar rage settled in the mouth of her stomach. She entered war mode. No longer a woman, but a weapon, Viola tightened her grip on the gun, feeling outside of herself.
With the Viscount next to her, she traversed the remains of the fort and stepped out into the square, ignoring the dead bodies spread through the stairs. Despite their valiant effort, the RoyalCorps proved incapable of damaging the bird in any meaningful way.
"At last!" The Shark's raspy voice called to them. "What were you sleeping?"
"Where's the Crown Prince?" The Viscount asked as he aimed towards the bird's wings.
"Fucker ran away. We had him cornered in the throne room when this fucking freak came out. He took advantage of the chaos, sneaked out like the rat he is."
Viola pointed at the bird's head. "We have more pressing matters to deal with."
The beast's beak opened again. More fire came out. The RoyalCorps beneath stood no chance. Their bodies rapidly consumed under the flames, allowing the bird to target the civilians hidden behind a pile of stone. Their screams drowned behind the heat of their pyre. War memories came back. A familiar chaos. A well-known pandemonium. Inferno.
The small contingent of RoyalCorps that remained in the square tried shooting at the bird again. Their bullets dropped to the ground, like useless screws. The bird reacted and turned as fast as its heavy metallic body allowed it. It proved too slow for the tiny RoyalCorps, who scattered in the space, like ants running from the boot.
Smoke and ash filled the air when the bird fired once more. Viola felt the skin on her face burning against the metal that covered it. She coughed as breathing became harder and found herself trapped within her own walls. She was her own personal furnace.
The Viscount pointed to the belly of the beast. "Look! There!"
As the bird released its fiery rage, Viola saw it too. Right at the centre of its breast, a spot lit up through the metallic layers that covered it. When the fire stopped, the spot dimmed and Viola knew they found their target. With its beak opened, ready to fire again, the bird turned to them, but the three hid behind a large pile of stone.
"We need all the power we can gather," Viola yelled, her voice barely audible.
"There's only so many soldiers left," the Shark objected as the bird screeched again. "If we're going out, it better be for something worthwhile."
"If we destroy its flamethrower, we make this fight easier for the others."
The Viscount agreed. "Not one of us will get it done. We need to fire all at once."
The Shark roared, his bloodshot eyes hardly blinking. "Fucking go, then."
The three came out of their hiding place and the Shark gathered all his power to make his voice sound over the war that raged around them. "Soldiers with me!"
A group of eight came out from under the stones, answering the call of their captain. A pitiful parade of sweaty and flushed faces. It wasn't the first time Viola looked at despair in the face. Still, she held back tears when she saw the youngest soldier, a boy no older than sixteen. The air turned heavy with smoke as a putrid scent took over. It was blood and sweat and ammonium and shit, all mixed together. The smell of fear.
"We need to get it to fire again!" The Viscount screamed.
Without saying a single word, one of the soldiers stepped out and ran directly into the bird's gaze. Fire came out, bringing its blazing storm along and drowning the man's screams. But his sacrifice worked. The bright spot on the bird's breast lit up again.
Ten guns pointed towards the light, firing repeatedly. Bullet after bullet crashed against the metal and gunpowder filled her nostrils. With no time to recharge, Viola changed guns and kept shooting, her heart beating so fast, she was afraid it would stop from overwork.
One of the soldiers dropped his gun, no bullets left on it, and Viola's legs threatened to give up. Still, she kept firing. She dropped the second gun and took out the third one. Her mouth, unable to hold her desperation any longer, released the scream trapped in the back of her throat, and all seven of her companions mimicked her.
Time was running out. The bird, now aware of their presence underneath it, tried something different. Its claws aimed towards two of the soldiers, piercing their skulls with their sharpness, splattering their faces with warm blood. Still they kept firing. One more bullet. Just one more. The creature straightened its tail, prepared to launch it at them. One more bullet. Just one more.
A leak of steam shot out of the machine. A horribly hissing sound filled the air as oil dripped from the now wounded bird. She saw the hole the bullet pierced in the bird's breast and howled in triumph. The machine stumbled and roared as the fuel that powered the flamethrower left its body, showering the group.
A small triumph, but the crippled machine remained a threat. Running back to the steps of the fort, they spread through the space and sought cover. There was no time to rest, but they could at least catch their breaths. And she did. She recharged her weapons. She wiped the blood off her face. She pulled herself together. Then, with newfound strength, she pointed her guns at the bird, ready for a new round.
********
Arabella stepped out into the square, stumbling, hardly able to stay aware.
She used all her strength protecting Livilla and Princess Electa from the rain of stone and dust that fell upon them when the bird destroyed the catacomb's ceiling. Her body took most of the damage, and not even the protective armour she wore under her dress prevented her from feeling every single blow and cut.
Despite her best efforts, the Lady and the Princess sustained heavy damage. Livilla's face had a nasty cut from her forehead to her cheekbone and her left rib seemed broken. Electa, for her part, limped and struggled to stay up. Her dress hid the surely grave wound that affected her left foot, and Arabella acquired newfound respect for the fragile Princess, whose mouth had yet to release a single complain.
The scene they encountered was beyond terrifying. Not even in her dreams could Arabella anticipate such devastation. Dead bodies lined the now destroyed streets, faces hidden behind a coat of dust and blood, names forgotten under the rubble. No structure survived the storm. The floor, once the main attraction of the city, now sank under the rivers of crimson that flowed, its cogs and gears melted away.
And in the main square, in front of her, moving wild and clumsily like a caged beast, a bird machine jumped from side to side, trying to shake its attackers off. The RoyalCorps were like ants under the bird's claws, and Arabella went livid when she saw two of them crushed under the machine's weight.
Suddenly, it all went quiet. She could not hear anymore. The laments of the wounded, the screams of the soldiers, the roars of the bird. They all seemed so far away, as if she listened to them from across a long, deserted space. She heard a beep. And then the world overflowed her. She could not focus. She did not see straight. She saw spots and sprinkles of colour that surely were not there. Her face turned heavy and her eyes went down.
The space narrowed. The walls approached, trying to squish her. The air turned heavy with ash and the sky seemed to come down on her, crushing her. Breathing became impossible. Dirt and debris had entered her lungs, clogging them. She was choking. Her hands tore her dress and she scratched her chest, maybe trying to rip it open too.
She gasped for air. She tried to articulate but no words came out. So she screamed. So hard she teared her throat and felt the veins in her face engorging. Her eyes burnt and she thought they might come out of their sockets. Her nails buried in her skin but pain was now foreign to her. The smoke made her cough and her entire body vibrated.
She heard Livilla's voice in the distance calling for her. Marquise. Marquise. Marquise!
She knew what came next. She had a duty to fulfil. But just for once, just this one time, she wished she could just be afraid. Terrified, petrified. Helpless, like all the rest.
But she was not. She possessed a strength that was only hers. She had a responsibility to use it, especially now, when so much was on the line. She tried to catch her breath, but it proved futile. Tranquillity would not come to her. So she settled for momentary control. She yearned only to survive this day. Then she could gather her broken pieces. She needed not to be at peace, only to be aware. For her sake and everyone else's.
She spotted a gun on the floor and, drying her tears, ran to it and grabbed it. She turned to Livilla. "Here, take it." The Lady tried to say something, but Arabella interrupted. "I know it is scary. I too am frightened. Terrified. But there is something greater than that."
Livilla's jaw shook as her wide eyes blinked at an alarming speed. Her round, bleeding face seemed to be screaming, but even through her loud and palpable fear, the Lady nodded and accepted the gun with trembling hands.
"The bird cannot fly. If we keep it in the centre of the city, the people can escape to the outskirts. Our priority is to evacuate as many as we can."
Behind them, Electa gasped and pointed towards the machine. Arabella's stomach dropped to her feet when she saw Shooter Viola and the Viscount narrowly avoiding the bird's sharp claws. The Princess screamed at the sight of her love risking it all and Arabella had to restrain her to stop her from running towards him.
"You cannot go there. You will get yourself killed." Her voice nearly broke, but she swallowed her pain. She held Electa's face in her cold hands and locked eyes with her. "He needs you to be strong. He is fighting for us all. Help him. Fight for him. For you."
Electa's face disappeared behind anguished wrinkles, her frail body on the verge of completely falling apart. She nodded at Arabella's words, but there was no certainty in her face. Another screech echoed, reminding them of the war behind them.
"Follow me," she ordered adamantly.
Running towards the north side of the square, Arabella spotted the first group of survivors, hidden inside the remains of what used to be a clock store. She commanded Livilla and Electa to wait for her on the edge of the square, then jumped into the war zone.
The bird now attacked with every part of its body. Its deadly beak travelled to the ground with alarming speed, crushing those it found, as if they were no more than warms on the dirt. Its tail calculated every move, launching itself at its targets with precise skill. Its wings spread and destroyed anything they found, bringing even more debris into the ground. Arabella ran towards the survivors, reaching the store in a matter of seconds. She counted ten, but one looked too wounded to even stand up, and one seemed lost in his own world.
"Come with me," she pleaded the group, but they were too afraid to trust her.
The bird shrieked again and their ears filled with chaos. The deathly tail now swayed around, a blade that cut through the air with ease. The sting caught one of the soldiers and entered his chest, lifting him into the air before dropping him like an old rag doll.
Urgently, she repeated her plea and when the group proved too petrified to comply, she took one of them by the hand and forced her up. As if snapped out of their confusion, the rest soon followed and she led them out of the store and towards the edges of the square.
With the bird looming menacingly behind, Arabella tried to come up with a strategy to get as many people as she could away from the fight. She looked around her, trying to find anything that would aid her duty. Then she saw it. She stopped in her tracks and the group gasped and moaned, thinking the bird had found them.
But Arabella saw not a deadly machine, but one that might mean their salvation. Reaching the truck, she climbed aboard and prayed to every and any Gods that the engine still worked. She pressed the ignition button. Nothing happened. She tried again. Nothing. Frantically, she punched the button again and again, trying to get it to react. At last, the engine burst into life, more with a fizzle than with a bang, and the truck roared in anger.
Backing up, Arabella drove back to the group, who understood her silent command. They climbed aboard just as the bird's red glimmered from across the square. Turning the truck around, she advanced to where Livilla and Electa waited.
The women sat next to Arabella, who backed the truck again and headed towards the west side of the square. Beside them, the RoyalCorps aimed towards the machine's left wing and she gathered all her will to keep her eyes on the road and away from the fight.
"Look for survivors!" Her scream reached all her passengers, even as the battle raged on.
"There!" Livilla pointed towards the place where the Temple of Faith once stood. An even larger group hid behind the statue of Saint Olaf, patron of roses and Nylunds.
Stepping on the pedal, she gritted her teeth. This was only just beginning.
********
Eldon stepped out from the remains of the store with a death wish in his heart.
His head reeled and his entire world laid upside down. With each new step he took, a merciless drill pierced his temples. The taste of blood overpowered all of his senses, even the ones that remained a mystery to him. He saw the battle ahead, but he failed to really register it. He heard the soldiers' cries and the bird's roars, yet they did nothing to him. He witnessed the devastation, but his heart and soul remained untouched.
Eldon was an automaton. He acted out of duty and a shameless desire to win. He knew if he let his emotions get involved, he'd be unable to perform. He had a responsibility. This city, this kingdom now depended on him. So he ignored the smell of burning dreams and the screams that came out of worn out throats. He walked past the scorched victims and avoided the wreck and the stone, all that remained of this once glorious city of ivory.
He stood on the edge of the square. The metallic beast rampaged over the ruins of Leverfort. Under it, a group of RoyalCorps did their best to keep up with the furious attacks of the machine. But they could never win; it wasn't up to them. Timmy had not yet joined the fight and Eldon couldn't see the Marquise among the fighters.
Just like in his dream, it was up to him. Moments waiting to happen, indeed.
He drew a deep breath and wielded the spear that Nilla gave him during the scorpion raid. He took a step forward and prayed. He didn't believe in any God, but it couldn't hurt, could it? He prayed for every single soul in Ivoryport that he failed to save. He prayed for Nilla and Alder, for the Marquise and those she had in her life. He prayed for Tim. He wanted to see him again, hold him, kiss him, feel him. Love him. And he prayed for himself. Selfish, perhaps, but he really didn't want to die. Not in here. Not like this.
Reaching the bird, he realized he was about to spit directly in death's face and he stopped moving. His heart shrank, hands clinging to the spear. His breath shallowed. His core tightened. His feet hesitated. He hesitated. Then, Don Osgood's voice spoke from somewhere in the corners of time.
Give them hell, kid. By God he would.
Another deep breath. His last, perhaps? No time to wonder. Stay in the moment. He screamed and entered the war zone, jumping towards the machine, sticking his spear in one of its large wings. The creature roared and tried to shake him off, but he hung on. Then, balancing on his own weapon, he jumped and landed on the wing.
The machine released steam continuously, impairing his vision. Realizing he lacked time, he dropped the spear and wielded the guns that hung from his belt. Running to the joint where the wing met the rest of the body, Eldon directed all his shots to the same point. He fired until he ran out of bullets, then recharged and fired again.
The beast now moved erratically, flailing its wings, trying to get rid of the intruder. On the ground, chaos erupted again and he understood the beast was crushing the fighters. And the bullets laid at his feet, wasted, but the wing remained attached to the body, not even close to having any real damage. The spear would prove useless too. He'd need something bigger and sharper to detach that wing. Something heavier, stronger.
A scorpion's tail, perhaps.
Unlike the flightless wings, the machine's curved tail didn't swing wildly from side to side. Instead, it behaved strategically. It waited until it had a clear target, then launched its sharp sting. In and out in the blink of an eye. Eldon had to wait for the right time. He needed the tail to stretch so that he could lead it into the wing.
He headed towards the bird's back and slid down until he reached the point where the tail began. The sting hung directly above him, dangling menacingly. For a second, it seemed like it would launch itself at him. But that's the thing about machines: You could always rely on them to do what they're supposed to. And this one did.
The tail stretched, a new target on its sight, and Eldon seized the chance. He ran its entire length and held on to the sting. The, as it curved again, ready to strike, Eldon deviated it from its intended mark and towards its owner's wing. The sting crashed against the metal coating and went through it like a knife through paper.
The wing broke off just as Eldon let go of the tail, falling alongside the now useless piece of machinery. The bird roared in anger, as if it had a mind of its own. But the machine simply reacted to its now incomplete state and Eldon knew it.
"Master Eldon!"
He heard the familiar voice and his heart leapt with joy at the sight of the Marquise of Millingford. She drove a heavy truck loaded with people, including Princess Electa and Lady Livilla. Both held guns in a way that made it painfully obvious how much they didn't know how to shoot them. Still, they were alive and safe. Grinning stupidly, he ran towards the Marquise, taking advantage of the bird's momentary distraction.
"This is a first for me, but I'm ecstatic to see you. Is this everyone left?"
"Everyone I could find," she replied, out of breath. "Lady Livilla will drive them out of the city. I shall stay here and fight alongside..."
"No," he said imperatively and she raised her eyebrows in response. "These people, they need you to survive. They're hurt and terrified. And nobles, which means they're pretty useless. They won't make it on their own." She tried to say something, but he cut her off. "If we fail, it'll be up to you to carry on with the fight. Get them out. Protect the Princess."
The Marquise's shallow, glossy eyes gave him nothing. Her rapid breathing, on the other hand, made it clear a battle raged on her insides. He understood her desire to fight, but there were bigger concerns. Finally, she sighed and grabbed onto the steering wheel.
"I shall wait for you on the outskirts of the city. And I expect you to arrive."
He drew a feeble smile that he almost meant. She gave him one last nod of understanding before driving the truck away from the fight, disappearing beyond a cloud of dust.
Eldon turned back to face the machine. It now looked directly at him, its tail ready to attack. He wielded his spear and pointed it at the bird, challenging it. The fighters that remained withdrew to the sides, desperate for some relief. Only he endured. It came up to this. Man against machine. Him against it. The moment no longer waited. It happened.
Prepared to face his destiny, he stopped in his tracks when he heard a scream filled with rage that came out from the other side of the square. The sound of a gun firing cut through the machine's roars and Master Nilla came out from the ruins of Leverfort, holding a gun so big she had to rest it in her shoulder to support its weight.
But the massive gun fired massive bullets and they all crashed against the bird's only remaining wing. Giant holes pierced its suddenly vulnerable metal skin. And Master Nilla advanced through the wreckage, hell walking by her side. Chin up, chest out, shoulders back, she bled but she wasn't hurt. She was beyond pain. She didn't stop and she didn't slow down. She kept shooting at the bird, all her anger and hatred poured into the bullets that came out of her obscenely large weapon.
Eldon's insides roared in victory when his eyes met hers. Her attack worked. The bird's wing fell off and crashed into the ground with a loud bang that raised yet another curtain of smoke and dirt. The now crippled machine seemed on the verge of collapsing: It staggered and vibrated with uncontrolled power. Eldon dared smile. Was victory theirs? Of course not. He really needed to curb his enthusiasm. A horrifying whistle filled the air. The very wail of despair. The bell that rang as the end neared. The machine released a cloud of steam so large, it might as well be another sky. Then Eldon understood. The bird wasn't collapsing. It was changing.
Where once there were wings, now two fat, sharp and menacing pincers came out. Half-bird, half-scorpion, the machine looked like a disgusting mix of the two. This was no dream. It was a nightmare.
The thing lifted its pincers and opened them. Lightning came out and Eldon lost all control of his body. The static covered the entire field. He was pulled down into the ground, his body numbing under the influence of the lightning bolts. Everything hurt. Kneeling, fighting. Existing. Blood came out of his eyes and mouth. Old battle wounds flourished once more and they too sobbed crimson tears. Soon, he'd run out of blood.
Could this be death? There was nothing left. He tried to cry or scream or do anything other than lay on the ground, helplessly. He couldn't. He was a sitting duck, waiting to be shot.
And then a loud boom squashed the machine's victory roars as a large blimp crashed against it, releasing him from its control. From the ground, Eldon watched as the two steel giants went down, locked in a fiery embrace.
A thunderous explosion blackened the sky but it was the whoosh that remained. Lost and out of himself, he felt the raspy earth in his hands, heard coughs and whimpers from the wounded. And, through the smoke and dust, saw red eyes glowing still.
********
Timothy's heart stopped. He shrank and became minimal. Hands holding onto the steering wheel, he saw the bird from his dreams rising over the ashes of Ivoryport.
But Emmu was right: This attack differed from their visions. Unlike the bird of his dreams, this one possessed no flight. Actually, and now that Timothy took a better look at the creature, it was very different to what he expected. It was even smaller than the one they destroyed in the scorpion's nest.
However, what it lacked in stature, it made up in menace. Claws just as sharp, beak just as hot. Most frightening was its tail, a scorpion's limb that had no place in a bird's body.
It no longer possessed wings, but pincers, just as big and even more dangerous. It opened them and bolts of lightning came out. Like the guns used against Royders, but ten, twenty, a hundred times stronger. With the rubble electrified, the figures in the square bent like branches and fell to their knees, defeated.
He fired some rounds, but the bird hid behind thick pincers. The flamethrower would make things more difficult for the fighters in the ground, so he couldn't use it either. The blimp was meant to give them a way to fight in the air, its weapons designed to be fired in the sky, away from any casual victims. A flightless bird made the blimp a lot less useful.
Timothy gritted his teeth so tightly, he thought they'd surely break. All this work for nothing. A bitter taste in his mouth. Palms bleeding from pressing the steering wheel too hard, eyes burning from tears that blurred his vision. But he didn't care. Nothing mattered, not even his foot on the pedal, or the savage, animalistic scream he released as the blimp sped through the wind on its way to meet the mechanical beast ahead.
He went blank, obeying his body and not his mind. The bird's damning figure became larger, until it covered the entire windscreen. And Timothy did nothing but watch as the two machines collided. Blimp met bird and his world diminished. A hail of glass and fire. A thunderous roar that he felt on his insides, echoing against his walls.
Timothy felt the crash in his whole body. The armour under his clothes protected him for the most part, but as the entire machine collapsed on top of him, he understood he'd need more than armour to survive this.
He dropped to the floor and hid under the dashboard, shrinking to half his size. He gasped for air and held on to dear life. The space turned into void and the vacuum enveloped him, swallowing him whole. Bang after bang filled his ears and he almost heard the sound of his insides twisting. He smelled the fire spreading through the cabin and when burnt wires filled his field of vision, the urgency of abandoning ship became clear.
Through the corner of his eye, he saw a dim glow piercing the darkness that was his world. With difficulty, he rolled himself closer to the light and gathered all his strengths to kick the already weak walls of the crashing blimp. After a few tries, the metal finally came undone. Timothy jumped into the ground just as the blimp became consumed by fire.
His bones felt the crash and he spat some blood into his own hands. The static from the bird's attack still lingered on the ruins, hindering movement. He clumsily tried to regain control, but his mistreated body screamed for help. A warm hand rested on his shoulder and he turned to see his sapphire's bloody face. An instant jolt of energy shot through him at the sight of his love and Timothy launched himself at Emmu, burying his face on the man's shoulder, drowning in his heat.
Behind them, the bird, still not fully destroyed, wrestled under the blimp's weight. Flames rapidly licked its metallic walls. The machine melted in front of their eyes. Victory laid ahead, so close they could practically reach for it.
"One last blow," Master Nilla's tired voice came from behind him. "That's all it takes."
Captain Batchelor, who bled profusely from both legs and had an ugly looking wound on his right side, commanded, not a trace of doubt in his voice. "RoyalCorps with me. Aim whatever bullets you still have and rip its fucking head off."
Master Nilla agreed. "We'll hit it where it's already exposed. One last blow."
Timothy felt Emmu's heat. He met his lover's gaze. Their hands intertwined. Their bodies synchronized. Their minds connected, unspoken words floating in the space above them.
Together with Nilla and Alder, they ran towards the dying machine. Behind them, the sound of guns firing made him turn back. The Shooter known as Viola and the young Viscount of Aronport were the only ones who seemed not on the verge of exhaustion. The rest of the men, including the heavily wounded Captain, were dead men walking.
Turning back to face the machine, Timothy prepared to land the killing blow.
"Go left," Master Nilla commanded and Timothy and Emmy complied.
Emmu went first. Using the bird's destroyed claw as a ramp, he jumped, landing atop the machine's body. His spear penetrated the ardent metal, again and again, wounding the already wounded. Timothy stayed in the ground. With no weapon of his own, he improvised. He took one of the broken claws and repeatedly stabbed the creature.
The bird made one last attempt to attack. Its pincers, the one part of its body that remained fully functional, fired new bolts of lightning. The crash, however, succeeded in damaging the machine's inner systems. What came out were bolts less potent and damaging than before. Timothy felt the static in his body but he was strong enough to fight it. His moves slowed down, but he remained on control.
Behind him, the rain of bullets decreased just as the head of the bird was about to come off. Battling the urge that made him want to fall on his knees and succumb to his pain, he sprinted and jumped as high as he could. The bird's claw entered its own body. Sliding down, Timothy teared the last remaining wires that attached the head to the body.
He landed on the floor and with him, the head of the creature. The entire body collapsed, spasming still as the machine's inner systems drew their last breaths. Molten metal formed a river of fire at his feet, as both the blimp and the bird faded away into the flames.
His breathing slowed down and his eyes struggled to stay open. His insides finally saw the opportunity to shatter and they intended to take it. In front of him, Alder's tired gaze found him and the two briefly locked eyes with each other.
Then everything happened so quickly. One of the pincers opened and, with the last remnants of power inside the bird's engine, hurled itself to the first thing it could find. Timothy and Nilla reacted at once and both ran to the same spot. They were too late. The pincer entered Alder's body and the machine fell at last, fulfilling its last act of cruelty.
Time seemed to stop. The old man remained standing for a few seconds, as if its body had not yet understood what happened. Then, like a meaningless twig, he bent and sank into the ground, his life stolen and his eyes still glowing with one last glimmer of hope.