Chapter 17 - Cera - Cold
Her hand hurt, and her calf was bleeding, but all she could think of was to stand back up and get home quickly. She gasped for air, which turned into a fit of coughing in no time.
Resting her hand on her heart, she took rapid, deep breaths and slowly calmed down. In the process, her eyes involuntarily turned towards that amber light.
A massive fireball blossomed from the direction of the Ironhart district, flaring like a monstrous sun that birthed in the heart of the city. The world was bathed in its eerily beautiful light, a stark contrast to the typical dark that permeated the city.
She sat there stunned, rooted to the cobblestone as the echo of the explosion faded away, and the grand inferno shrank, leaving an ominous column of smoke and fire to snake its way into the heavens.
Cera coughed several times, her lungs heavy as if weighed down by lead. She had exerted herself too much in the run, but Mum and Dad couldn't wait. She slowly pushed herself up amidst her fits of dry coughing and began a slow jog. Maintaining that pace, she only got a few more steps in when—
BOOM!
This one was much milder compared to the last one, but she knew that was a lie. It was just too far away, but its intensity was definitely superior as the mini-sun that bloomed in the distance was a magnitude larger than the one in Ironhart. Apparently, world-shattering explosions were becoming a norm.
Not having lost her footing this time, she resumed her trot, only to be interrupted by another explosion. This one was very close to the first one. Maybe the fire spread and did something?
Was this it? Was the world ending? Only more reason to get back home and be with Mum and Dad. At least we'll be together.
So she resumed her march, this time not caring about any subsequent noises—no matter dull or thunderous. She walked past tens of boulevards, ignored all the helpless crying, and reached her neighborhood.
It was…missing something. The bustle of children, the boisterous overcrowded streets, all of that was absent. What greeted her instead were sparsely filled streets where most people hid in their homes, not daring to come out. The absence of liveliness here, hit her harder than in any of the boroughs she had just dashed through.
"Praise the night! Cera, you are well! Mother Asea heard my prayers and saved your soul. You should really come with me. The world is going to be very dangerous, and everyone is dying—"
She ignored the voice of that bastard Percival, who tried to annoy her with his flowery words yet again and ran right past him. A few other older women tried to get her to stay and talk about what was happening, but she was having none of it.
.
.
.
Finally, she stopped in front of a quaint little house. One among the many others in a monotonous array of uniform dwellings, cloaked in a drab exterior of brickwork and weathered timber, identical to its neighbors.
She had been saving up for quite a while now, to finally get Mum and Dad out of this shit hole.
Cera didn't bother knocking and used the key which she retrieved from her satchel. The door opened, and the smell of clean laundry filled her nose. A much-needed respite from all the smog and metal out in the city.
She quickly closed the door behind her and yelled, "Mum! Dad! Are you guys feeling all right? Did you see what's happening outside?"
She waited for a response, taking this time to catch her breath, but none came.
The insides were dark as usual. She had just recently managed to convince Dad to stop reading the newspaper at night. His eyes could barely see anything as it is.
"Mum?"
"Dad?"
.
.
.
"Mum!?"
"Mummy!!!?"
She felt cold.
In no time, her eyes adjusted to the deep darkness. Alongside her familiarity with the layout, she made her way to the small kitchen. After throwing her hands around the right corner of the counter, she found the lamp.
She reeled back the string, which acted as a flint, and the gas lit up. Surroundings had light breathed into them as the flickering blue flame of the lamp facilitated the furniture to cast their eerie shadows on the wall.
Cera walked back out into the drawing room, which looked exactly like it had in the morning. A soot-covered hearth with wooden logs nailed onto it to reduce the cold air seeping in from the chimney. A wooden sofa, a small table with three chairs and some leftovers on it, and a cupboard, all huddled close together. Finally there was that ladder in the corner that led to her room in the attic.
"Mum!"
Not finding any signs of Mum or Dad, she walked towards their room. After wrapping on the door thrice, she opened it, "Dad?"
No.
Unfolded laundry littered the room, but there was no sign of Mum or Dad in the small space. Her eyes lingered on the ground for a second before she slammed the door shut and climbed the creaky ladder up to her roon, lantern in hand.
She bent her back a little and craned her neck to the side to not hit the ceiling. A short small bed, a table, a chair, and a compact closet inhabited the floor alongside the numerous newspaper cuttings that were plastered onto the wall—a reminder of simpler times. But none of it mattered right now.
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She put the lamp by the table, slipped out of her boots, and slumped onto the bed. Closing her eyes, she murmured.
"Oh Benevolent Ephram, grace my soul, let this dream go untold."
"Oh Benevolent Ephram, grace my soul, let this dream go untold."
Gradually, she began to withdraw into herself. Arms clasped around her knees, she pressed herself into the smallest space she could manage, her frail silhouette shivering gently.
Her voice was a mere whisper, hollow and haunting.
It was cold.
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"Oh Benevolent Ephram, grace my soul, let this dream go untold."
.
.
.
Who knew how many times she chanted before the hoarse whispers died down, and a dead silence pervaded the room.
Why was it so cold? Why was no one listening? The Benevolent One wasn't listening. The dream never ended. Why was Mum not back already? Where did Dad go at a time like this?
She slowly sat back up, disheveled hair covering her face. Not like it mattered. The gas lamp had long run out, and the only light in the room came from the window, which wasn't much at all.
Getting off the bed, she descended the ladder barefoot and beelined straight to the door of the house. Opening it, she sat on the single stair by the door and stared off into the distance.
It was so cold.
Moon still hung high up in the sky, its glow barely adding any color to the empty, damp, and dark streets.
She waited.
But nothing changed.
No one came. Not Mum. Not Dad.
Her eyes felt very heavy.
Everything was so cold.
Then the silence was disturbed as someone walked by, a haunted look in their eyes—hardly apparent in this dim ambiance. It was a young boy making his way down the road with sluggish steps, a gown held tightly in his hand.
He walked from the left of her vision all the way to her right before he halted.
Aagghhh!! AGHHH!!!
And screamed hoarsely as he began crying.
Cera's vision grew cloudy, so she clamped her eyes shut and held them in. But the cries only got louder and louder.
She got up and rushed back in, slamming the door behind her. She stood there silently for a while, but it wasn't working anymore.
It just wasn't working.
Her feet moved again, heading straight for the bedroom. She entered the room and stood beside the plain bed. On it were tens of clothes.
She fell on her knees and grabbed at the pair of a shirt, pant, and a gown before clutching at them so hard as if wanting to assimilate them into herself.
And it broke.
UWAHHHHH!!!
Tears started streaming down her face as her frail body shuddered under the force of her silent sobs. The room seemed to close in, reality pressing down on her like a physical entity, merciless and unforgiving.
She couldn't deny it anymore. They were gone.
The stark absence of their laughter, their words, their scolding, their love—all felt like a gaping wound raw and tender.
IT WAS COLD.
With each rivulet of tear that traced the contours of her face, she seemed to whisper their name. The world around her blurred into a haze of mournful greys, its vibrance nothing more than a mockery of life itself.
IT HURT!
She yearned for it all to simply halt, for this nightmare to cease, and to awaken into yesterday's reality. But it seemed the world was deaf to her pleas, as even her own tears refused to heed her call. Her throat was utterly parched, but the sobs only grew louder, permeating the room already thick with grief and sorrow.
In this sheer agony and pain, seconds turned into minutes and sobs turned into whimpers. The well of tears never dried up, but her mind surrendered. Blacks turned blacker, and darkness consumed her.
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Knock. Knock. Knock.
Mum.
Knock. Knock.
Mummy.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Mum, could you please check who's on the door?" but her own voice shattered the fragile peace she had cultivated, reminding her of the unfair reality.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The knocking only grew louder, but Cera didn't feel like opening her eyes, much less get up and check who was on the door.
It was still cold, after all.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
She was leaning on the side of the plain bed, cradling the pair of clothes. She opened her bleary eyes, and was greeted by sunlight that shone right on her face.
Her eyes were swollen, and her face was a mess. Alongside that was an atrocious headache that felt like someone was smacking a baton on her forehead without mercy.
Who cares?
Crrackkk. A loud thump sounded, followed by the creaking of the door.
I didn't close the door last night!
All sorts of thoughts filled her mind, but the world was still spinning around her. She hadn't had food or water for who knew how long, and every little movement and thought felt like she had to go against the laws of nature itself.
Not having the energy to lift herself up, she haphazardly pushed herself into a corner with her feet.
Before she could do anything else, someone entered the room. It was a man, not the tallest, since he could walk through that door frame without having to crane his neck to one side like Dad.
He wore a long black robe with red lining, his head covered by its hood. A riveted black mask which curved to match the shape of his jaw, pulled up all the way to his nose, hid most of his features. Vibrant ruby hairs peeked through the hood in shiny layers, blending with the hem of his robe.
Yet, the most prominent aspect of his attire was the red strap that went across his outfit on the front and holstered a large crimson hued rifle on his back. The rifle was so long it peeked through from behind his shoulders, its intricate pipes, valves, and machinery on full display.
"Oh my lady. What a mess." spoke the man in a gruff voice as he facepalmed.
"I am not doing this. I need to get out of here." He shoved his hand in the pockets of his robe and flung a book towards Cera.
The small book swiveled a few times in the air before landing right next to her. Cera involuntarily recoiled away from the book, huddling further into the corner.
The man looked on with a pitiful gaze and massaged his temples. "Hey, listen. Madam has assigned you a few tasks that she expects you to complete soon. Get yourself together, eh?"
"The world has changed too much, and if you stay like this, you're not gonna survive for long. Madam is giving you a great chance, don't throw it away due to what's already happened."
Cera kept looking at him, an uneasy expression on her face.
"Man I shouldn't have come. I knew it'd be something like this," he said, massaging his temples.
"Okay, listen. Read the book. It'll do you good, understand? Madam's orders are in there too."
Cera glanced at the book and then back at him, not knowing what to make of any of this.
"Ahh, man. I need to get out of here! I am really not meant to handle this."
He turned around and started walking away, his rifle billowing up and down, following his motions.
But right as he was about to exit the house, he stopped.
"Fuck this. Why is it always like this!?" He turned around and pushed his robe aside from the seams at the side. His belt peeked through the gap, and he pulled out a golden revolver filled with similar small pipes and minute dials.
Cera clamped in even further, holding her hands in front of her like some shield as she shivered akin to a leaf.
"Not trying to kill you, I swear."
Clack
Something cold hit her on the leg, and she jolted back. Peeking from the gap in between her hands, she noticed it was the revolver.
"By my lady. How did Madam hire someone like you? Get a grip."
"Ahhh, I am not helping. I am done here. Use it if you have to."
The taps of his shoes got further and further by the second as the door closed with a bang. Once it was silent again, Cera felt all her energy fizzle away as her arms slumped to the sides.
That was pathetic of her.