𝕻𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖚𝖑𝖚𝖒 - [𝗦𝘁𝗲𝗽𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗦𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲]

𝐱𝐱𝐱. 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘱

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 — the snap

━━━━━━━

 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 moment of blessed silence. Nothing but a vast expanse of ink-black. There was a slight pounding against her head, at the base of her skull; as though a drum was steadily being played, growing stronger and stronger. It ached.

 She felt claustrophobic, as though fresh air had been plucked by greedy hands and was held a mile away; or perhaps it was the feeling of thick dust clogging her raw throat. Seconds had passed since she had felt anything; since she had awoken, Emilia supposed.

 Now, there was a stinging sensation as her fingers twitched. They were slick with something sticky, something metallic wafted in the air; blood. They were burning, and something was stuck in the left one, digging deeper as the calloused tip of her ring finger brushed it by as she slowly watched the black expanse grow lighter.

 An ache blossomed on her forehead, and once more the uncomfortable feeling of something dribbling across her skin sparked her to move. Her brows furrowed, her throat bobbing as she tried to swallow away the dryness.

 A harsh puff of air shot through her nose, disturbing the rust-coloured dust that cloaked the ground she reclined upon. A choke tore through her lips and a shooting pain ensued as though someone had swung a mallet to the base of her skull.

 She could hear voices slowly grow louder, though still unintelligible, as though they were under a vast expanse of water.

 Emilia's eyes cracked open and flecks of ink filled her vision, whilst the rest remained a blur like mist on a glass. Another rough and wheezing gasp tumbled from her chapped lips as her hands finally curled against the dry dirt beneath them. She pushed as hard as she possibly could, wincing as whatever piece of rubble that had embedded itself within her palm etched deeper.

 She blinked. Eyelashes fluttered against her cheekbones and small particles of russet dust weaved between her lashes, dotting against her skin as the scene before her was finally revealed, like a curtain rising for a play.

 Stephen. Her eyes landed on him immediately; just as they always did. He was perched on the edge of a rock, his trembling hands clasped around his middle as his chest rose and fell in what Emilia assumed to be pain. His brows had come together, and his eyes were drooping; even the Master of the Mystic Arts couldn't battle with fatigue and wounds.

 His cerulean eyes landed upon her and the lump in his throat somewhat subsided. He couldn't get close, couldn't reach out or fall to Emilia's side without crossing the path before the Mad Titan. He had to sit and watch as her chest barely worked, as hollow breaths disturbed the dust around her.

 His clouded eyes cleared momentarily, his shoulders sagging as Emilia attempted to smile at him, to convey she was somewhat alright; yet as he stared at the blood trailing over her face and leaking from her hands, he swallowed.