And then it was over. Amidst the pandemonium, the blazing ordeal had ended abruptly, leaving Wallona in stunned silence, her skin now seemingly submerged in an icy bath. The searing pain dissipated, replaced by an eerie numbness that enveloped her senses.
Through strands of soaked hair, Wallona glimpsed a saefil, dispatched by the All-Mother, his compassionate brown eyes and gentle smile exuding the aura expected of the Mother’s guardians. He shed his yellow outer robe and draped it tenderly over her trembling form. His voice, a soothing melody amidst the chaos, inquired, “Are you all right?”
Tears welled in Wallona’s eyes at his comforting tone. “Yes, I’m fine,” she managed to reply, her voice barely audible over the tumultuous sounds surrounding them. “Who are you?”
“I’m Lyurin,” he said, urgency underscoring his words. “But introductions must wait. We need to escape, quickly.”
Surveying the scene, Wallona’s eyes widened in surprise. Three guards lay motionless on the ground, while the others engaged in a fierce battle with a man and a woman. Unfazed, Lyurin stated, “Stay here. I’ll find the keys to free you. It’s going to be dangerous.”
Wallona pointed to the woman who had bound her. “It was her,” she said urgently, recognizing the pressing need for haste.
Finding the keys, Lyurin swiftly unlocked Wallona’s chains. As she stood, a searing pain shot through her legs, causing her to collapse. Lyurin caught her, his arms a sturdy support, while she looked down to see her legs scorched from toes to knees. The pain, though shallow, seared through her, making walking excruciating.
“I can carry you,” Lyurin offered, concern etched on his face.
Despite her gratitude, Wallona shook her head determinedly. “I’m fine. It’s just a little pain. I can manage.” She mustered a weak smile to reassure him. “Let’s go. We need to hurry.”
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
With her hand in his, they moved toward the steps leading off the stage, Wallona wincing with each step. The square around them was in chaos. Smoke billowed from a fire consuming a nearby garden, its flames creeping closer. Panic had seized the crowd, transforming them into a frenzied mob, shoving and jostling to find safety.
Halting her steps, Wallona whispered urgently to Lyurin, “What if someone recognizes me and stops us? We’ll be trapped in this mob, with no hope of escape.”
Lyurin, his eyes scanning the chaotic crowd, reassured her, “Don’t worry. Your disguise is impeccable. No one would recognize you in these clothes. And your face was hardly visible to the spectators.”
Relieved, Wallona nodded, her eyes fixed on the borrowed yellow robe that now shielded her identity. She gestured for Lyurin to lead the way, ensuring he walked in front, shielding her from prying eyes.
With cautious steps, they navigated the riotous crowd, the danger far from over. The mob verged on a riot, the air thick with the scent of imminent violence.
Wallona’s grip on Lyurin’s hand tightened as fear threatened to tear them apart. She pressed herself against his back, seeking refuge in his presence amidst the chaos that surrounded them. The air reverberated with the shrill cries of terror and the helpless sobbing of children.
After walking for what felt like an eternity, Lyurin suddenly halted, attempting to retreat, motioning for Wallona to follow. Desperation etched on her face, she looked behind her, only to realize that moving back was an impossible feat; the sea of bodies behind her blocked any chance of retreat. Speaking loudly into Lyurin’s ear to be heard above the bedlam, she said, “We can’t move back. What’s happening?”
Driven by a mix of fear and curiosity, Wallona strained on her tiptoes, enduring the pain, to catch a glimpse over Lyurin’s shoulder. Her heart skipped a beat. In front of them, a group of people clad in black surrounded a woman, who clutched a terrified child, no older than six, with a knife pressed against his throat. Beside her, a pleading woman knelt, her voice drowned in the chaos as she begged for the child’s release.
The guards, identified by some as the black-clad figures, engaged in a tense standoff with the kidnapper. The situation hung by a thread, teetering on the brink of pandemonium. Suddenly, a frantic cry pierced the air, “Look! The fire is coming here.”
A wave of panic swept through the crowd. Those at the back, unable to comprehend the danger unfolding in the front, pushed against those ahead, setting off a chain reaction of chaos. Angry shouts and heated scuffles erupted, drawing more and more people into the fray.
In the midst of the commotion, a powerful surge from one side shattered the guards’ circle. Seizing the opportunity, the kidnapper dashed out, vanishing into the seething mass of humanity. With desperate resolve, she flung the child toward the guards before disappearing completely.
The guards safely returned the child to his mother, their frantic search for the kidnapper proving futile. Wallona lowered her gaze, subtly nudging Lyurin to continue moving forward.
Certain that she remained inconspicuous amidst the turmoil, Wallona stood by Lyurin’s side. In this pandemonium, even a momentary separation seemed perilous, so they clung to each other, navigating the tumultuous crowd as they pressed forward.