Panic

The nobles who weren't instantly killed scramble wildly away from the intense pillar of heat, desperately searching for any exit to the room, everyone tripping over each other in the process. Everyone, except Trenton. Trenton was locked, stock still, standing at the end of the ballroom, staring at the space Staria inhabited just moments prior. This couldn't be real. This couldn't be happening. She couldn’t really be dead.

The pillar of flame ceased, leaving behind a searing hole in the floor, and from it, a man arose, grabbing the red hot rubble to hoist himself up as if it were no hotter than a warm plate. In his right hand, he held an intricate red longsword of a make completely foreign to Trenton. It glowed an odd hue of red, indicating it to be imbued with magic of some kind. With eyebrows drawn tightly together and eyes squinting, the man leaned forward, gazing across the scrambling mass of nobles. He was looking for something, or rather–someone.

The man raised his left arm and slowly, carefully, he began to accumulate energy in his free hand, fiery red motes yielding to him, coalescing together in his open palm. With less than a second's preparation, he began to launch fireballs larger than a carriage at anything and everything that dared to move, obliterating the nobles scrambling for exits. Within moments, the hundred or so people that gleefully adorned the decorated ballroom, had been reduced to only a couple dozen. No one was escaping. No one would leave here alive.

With the sudden burst of fireballs plowing cleanly through both the walls and people, the structural integrity of the building began to fail. Above Trenton, a hunk of stone several times the size of his body came loose, falling straight towards his head. Suddenly coming out of his daze, Trenton stumbled slightly backwards, desperately trying to get away from the present danger, but he wasn’t quite fast enough. The hunk of stone caught his leg, crushing it instantly, pinning him to the ground, unable to move.

Agony

Crawling, sizzling, searing agony crawling up his leg like a demon on all fours, its smile wide, and its eyes full of malice. He couldn’t move. He was going to die here. It was all over.

Wildly flailing about, Trenton summoned what strength he had left in his body to slam his hand into the stone, commanding it to reform itself off of him, but it remained unyielding. Even after all his time spent training, he had no chance of being able to move something as large as the stone. All around him, fire raged on, the smell of sizzling flesh almost overwhelming. The nobles screamed, begging for their lives, groveling and prostrating before this strange man, but all they were rewarded with was swift death.

For a moment, hope was sparked within Trenton's heart–Delis was still here. Twisting his body around to glance about the room, Trenton saw Delis lying in a pool of his own blood against a nearly collapsing wall, a peculiar translucent red strand connecting him to the man. It really was over. There was no point struggling.

“You have to move! Get up Trenton! Come on!”

At Trenton's side, screaming her little heart out, was Lily, eyes full of tears–tugging at his arm in a vain attempt to free him from the wreckage. She pulled, and pulled, and pulled with all her might, but it was not enough. She was far too young and far too weak.

“GET OUT OF HERE LILLY! RUN!” Trenton screamed at her, desperate for her to at least attempt to save her own life, but she didn’t seem to be listening.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“Please! You have to get up!” Lilly’s tugs got weaker each time she pulled. She was slowly devolving into a wet heap of tears. That she had managed this long was astonishing. Trenton made an attempt to push her away, but was far too weak from blood loss to make any serious effort. But, if she waited here any longer, she’ll-

Suddenly, a brilliant torrent of fire, as beautiful as it was destructive, launched out towards Trenton, engulfing Lilly whole. She screamed in horrible agony, her voice reaching a piercing octave that only a child in immense pain can hit. As the flesh clinging to her face slowly began to melt, she cried desperately for Trenton to help her–to save her–but he could only watch in horror as the little girl, no older than eight years old, was incinerated before him. First to go was her skin, her body spasming violently the whole while she burnt. Once that was gone, Trenton could see her muscles, blackened and still somehow moving. And finally, her bones broke down to ash, the cracking sound almost overwhelming her desperate screeches. Then, she was gone, even less than a corpse. She was nothing, her final moments marred by unimaginable torment as she begged for Trenton’s help. The torrent of fire ceased and the room was quiet. No one remained. No one…except for Trenton

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Footsteps upon the stone floor–slowly approaching. Trenton, suddenly rid of the pain which plagued him moments prior, watched as the man slowly picked his way across the floor–staring intently at him. But in that man's eyes, there was no malice. There was no hate. There was no wrath. There were tears. As he stepped toward Trenton, the madman who just effortlessly erased over a hundred people…cried.

A confusing well of emotions burned through Trenton, but none more so than sheer terror. Wild and desperate, Trenton grabbed a hunk of fallen stone the size of his fist, formed it into a sharpened hunk, and began to bash it into his own flesh in a last ditch attempt to free himself of the rock. Summoning all the strength he had left within his body, and all the strength he didn’t, he slammed the rock into his leg, bashing through bone and ripping appart tendons, ligaments, and muscles as the man got ever closer. Finally, when only a few raw strands of red flesh remained, Trenton grabbed them, pulling and pulling with the strength of a cornered lion until they snapped.

Finally free from the boulder, Trenton scrambled wildly away, no longer caring for the ruined mess that was his body, only caring about seeing tomorrow. He used his charred arm to try and push himself off of the ground, but only succeeded in snapping the already weakened bone, his right arm now twisted at an impossible, sickening angle. Rolling over onto his side, he pressed the brunt of his weight onto his still attached leg, but once again fell amidst a pool of his own blood.

Again

With one last concentrated effort, Trenton stood, every muscle straining just to keep him upright, many of them tearing in the process, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered now was getting away. It didn’t matter if they were all gone. Trenton must survive. Slowly, ever so slowly, Trenton began to hobble away from the monster.

Too Slow

Trenton, no longer able to feel anything, could only watch as the left side of his chest exploded out–a hand from behind him now sticking out all the way through his chest–holding his still beating heart. Trenton's head rolled back and he looked at the man closely for the first time. His lips were quivering, his hands were shaking, and tears were streaming from his eyes–sorrow–true sorrow.

“To kill a child, so pure, so innocent, unknowing of who or what he is–a tragedy I will not soon forget. I am sorry, Trenton, I truly am, but there was no other way. You have to die…and so many other lives will be saved because of it. This is not a decision I make lightly. Sleep easy and long, Trenton, and may you never wake up again.”

He crushed Trenton’s heart in his fist–destroying it completely.

A sound

A sound, which was as precious as it was beautiful

The beat of life hummed loudly in Trenton's ears.

He was…alive?