"Five seconds." Shouts Grigory.
Shit! Okay. We're about fifty feet above the ground, so jumping is out of the question. There are like a million kittilans in front of us and a billion behind us, so fighting our out doesn't sound like a good idea…
"Two!"
This wall next to us looks pretty weak…
"One!"
Don't suppose one of his powers is flight…
"Now!"
The translucent purple dome that has been protecting the duo from the army of kittilans shines intensely for a split second before vanishing from the world forever.
"Aw fuck it." Declares Cecila.
In the instant the shield disappears, Cecila pulls back her left fist and slams it against the wall - twisting her entire body and throwing all of her weight behind it.
The stone explodes under the weight of her fist.
"Follow me!" She yells at the slightly dumbfounded Grigory.
Cecila, followed by Grigory, charges through the new ‘door’. The room is littered with many small, broken, wooden tables. With no time to safely maneuver through them, Cecila leaps into the air - clearing most of them, the rest she agilely vaults over.
She finally meets her destination, another fragile looking wall. Without slowing down, she crashes her monstrous knuckles into the stone - shattering it like glass.
Another room of the exact same design as the previous one appears before her. Once again, Cecila vaults and breaks. Another room, vault and break. Another…
The wall shakes and roars like thunder, but remains standing. Without missing a beat, she pounds on the wall again; and again. The stone is crumbling and bending under Cecila’s strength, but still remains standing.
Cecila notices her peripheral vision, Grigory, stood beside her with his arms stretched out. About teen feet in front of his hands are two of those small tables, hovering and rabidly swaying left & right, in a desperate attempt to keep the pack at bay.
As Cecila continues to pound on the wall, she feels her bones begin to creak in protest and liquid drip from her knuckles.
Never once does she stop her ansault on this prison of a wall, her attacks only intensify as desperation takes the form of a kittilan digging its’ claws into her flesh, as more and more begin to break through Girgory’s faltering defence.
The sharp pain of a kittilan burying its fangs into Cecila’s shoulder is used as fuel for her rage. She swings her mutant fist one last time, all of her anger and fear traverse through her muscle and disintegrate the wall - she screams a berserker roar of pain as her knuckles implode upon impact.
Cecila turns and faces the one who has been protecting her this whole time. She is dismayed to see Grigory knelt on the ground, covered in thousands of cuts and scratches. His nose is bleeding, his eyes are bloodshot and his mouth is desperately absorbing air as he coughs red phlegm. He lazily fights off a swarm of kittilans with that sword of his.
“Grigory get up!” She pleads.
Seemingly coming out of a trance, Grigory’s eyes turn and momentarily focus on Cecila. Too tired to talk, he instead gives her a slight nod of acknowledgement. Suddenly, Grigory’s skin begins to glow with a purple hue and smoke starts leaking out of his eyes. He tightly embraces his own body. His body shakes, vibrates.
More and more kittilans descend upon him. As they are about to pounce, Girgory arms release their grip on him and explode outwards. In the microsecond it took for his arms to move, a shockwave of violet energy erupts from his body and smashes everything in the room into the walls, destroying everything in sight.
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Grigory gasps for air and staggers to his feet. As soon as he stand upright, his mouth erupts but this time, instead of awesome power, pink bile cascades down his face.
Not even bothering to attempt to wipe it off, he runs towards the awe-struck Cecila.
“Errrm… You okay?” She asks.
Grigory just gargles in return.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Let’s go!”
As they venture through the hole Cecila created, she is pleased to see a stairway, instead of another room she has to smash through.
As she hurriedly descended the stairs, she suddenly notices that the kittilan that bit her shoulder is still there. She grabs it by the scruff of its hairless neck and pulls it off. Her lips and skin scream in protest as the teeth and claws rooted into her flesh are forcible ripped out - ripping her flesh along with them.
Luckily, only one hallway now stands between them and their exit out of this nest of horrors. Only a few stranglers stand in their way. Unfortunately for the starving beasts, the duo’s determination has been lit anew at the sight of their freedom.
Most of the kittilans ignore Cecila as she sprints up the hallway, and the ones that do try are easily dodged or swatted out of the way. However, the ones that aren't attacking Cecila have instead chose Grigory as their prey, as they have decided him to be the weaker of the two.
As they felt the sun’s warmth upon their bodies - now that they are finally out. Cecila quickly turns around - to check on Grigory. She is shocked to find his body has five kittilans latched to it. It might have been comical in a different scenario to see a bunch of kittilans gnawing on him, but this was anything but funny. As he looks like a corpse and is drenched in every liquid a person can produce. There is also the very audible sound of flesh being gulped and swallowed.
Cecila frantically tears off the beats from Grigory’s body - ignoring the pain in her left arm.
“Come on!” She yells at him, concern evident in her voice.
Worried by his lack of response and him collapsing, she grabs hold of his wrist and guides him while they run to safety.
They keep running. through the sounds of screaming kittilans, through ancient bracken, through the gaps between the rubble of the Old One’s monuments, through the burning hot sand.
Even when they leave the thicket of the destroyed suburb, they keep running. Their minds long ago shut down, only the memory of their desire for safety remains flowing in their bodies.
It wasn’t until over three miles went by until their bodies finally gave up and collapsed to the ground.
Cecila and Grigory now lie on the cold sand, in the middle of no where. Their bodies itched as sand seeped into their wounds, but they didn’t mind, as their minds are far away from the pain of their physical forms.
* * * * *
As the sun and moon took turns appearing in the sky. It was only by the grace of the Gods that our heroes haven’t been killed in their helpless, defenceless states.
* * * * *
Grigory is the first to wake up. His head pounds, throat whimpers, stomach churns, and his body screams, but his only thought at that time is his newfound, forever lasting, deep, loathing hatred of kittilans.