Ch. 3: How it Should've Been

My chest pained, feet immobile, and cheeks–fiery. Time seemed more turtle than rabbit–slowing to a still. The chaos round’ me no longer mattered. It was quiet–all of it. The despairing screams and cries. The chameleon-like cackles of fire. The hymns of magic and bellows of runes bursting. The foreboding howls of darkness. All of it. Gone.

Only one sound remained. My father’s words: ‘We will not. Now leave!’ ‘Will not.’ ‘Leave…’ they echoed. On. And on. Once, twice–then till’ I lost count.

Funny, isn’t it? The world burned round’ me, and yet… I didn’t care to notice. Funny… right? Yeah. Funny…

I hate it. I hate them. I hate everything and everyone. The darkness–its damnable-self. Suffering, it’s all you’re good for. The gods and their selfishness. My parents, too. Staying to pray? That’s not brave… It's cowardly. Dumb… and selfish! Just like the gods, you’re abandoning us–my siblings and I.

I hate you! I hate you!

First–a thought. Then a sound. “I hate you!” It feels so good. Funny, right? Yeah… funny.

“I hate you!” I yelled.

My father stared at me. His face–blank. His head dropped. If he hadn’t lost his heart before, he surely had now.

“Coward!” I yelled. It felt good. Still funny, right? How pain and hurt is remedied by causing pain and hurt. It’s funny… right?

“Ah.” I stumbled forward. At once, all sound escaped from its imprisonment. The despairing screams and cries. The chameleon-like cackles of fire. The hymns of magic and bellows of runes bursting. The foreboding howls of darkness. All of it. I looked over my shoulder; at the cause of the impact.

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“Adroa!”

Spit landed on my face. Hands that I didn’t notice–had a firm grasp about my arms.

“Adroa! What’re you doing here? We need to run!”

“Unc… Uncle?” I said, still adjusting to sound.

He tugged at my arm. “No uncle! Run!”

I pulled back. My eyes landed upon my father and mother. There they were still bent over. Shameful.

“Enough!” my uncle yelled. “They’re dead! Steal your heart now. We need to run!”

I lurched forward, this time–when he tugged. I felt my feet moving beneath me. It hurts. My chest–it really does. My hands, too. My fingers felt stiff, finally unclenching. My neck… rigid, as I refused to look back.

“Eryx! Why’re you here? Where did you come from?” I blinked to ensure myself this was happening.

“I’m here for you!” He snarled before continuing with a sigh. “Your parents have always been fools…Too much faith in gods!” he said, his long, purple hair concealed most of his vexation. Most.

“Thank you,” I said, quietly. Speaking, too–it hurts.

He glanced over his shoulder and nodded. “Run faster!” he shouted over the rapping of his pauldrons. In them, I saw the reflection of everything behind me–the flames, despair, and death. Chaos in its entirety; it existed as one. I dared not look longer.

I nodded back. “Uncle, where are we running to?” I wracked my brain, thinking of all the best possible escape routes.

“North, first. We’ve set up a base over there–other warriors and I. Some from midland tribes. Some from others. They’re strong, though. Should have a chance!”

I nodded. His voice was resolute. Not like my father’s. Instead, it’s how I wished my father’s was. Brave. Strong. This is how my father’s voice should’ve been.

My feet continued to carry me forward. I leapt over a body, then sidestepped another. “Uncle this is…” I said.

We passed through an encampment. Blood wet the soil beneath our feet. Hundreds of bodies lay strewn about. Each body… detached at the neck. Amidst the field, a small girl cried… Much more than my father had. Much more than I did. I turned to aid her.

“Leave her!” My uncle’s words cut crisp into my ear. “We don’t have time!”

My teeth sank into my lip. I hate this; I thought again.