oxygen | druig

Chapter VII

The Fall of Tenochtitlan, 1521 AD

Persia sat at the edge of the stairs, while her tired eyes followed along the golden horizon.
Though it wasn't the sun tinting the city in that warming color, but flames.

No comforting gold which made her skin tingle, but one that made her flesh burn which not even an immortal heart of hers could endure.
Flames, merciless pathing through the ways, anyone who dared to cross its way felt the wrath of it down to their bones.
It crawled up the buildings, ate at them until they fell to nothing but grey ash.
Ash, everywhere.
When she breathed, she felt it tugging at her lungs.

Her eyes spotted her family fighting, how Makkari bend the laws of physics to grab a child before a pillar collided with the ground where it stood.

Persia wasn't allowed to fight anymore.
At least she didn't allow herself to.
Too many people, a risk too big for her to take.

Hooves clashing with the flattened terrain, men yelling battle cries until their throats cut or hearts were pierced.
With every life that ended, Persia's eye twitched.

Fire bending to the soldiers will, shooting out of long tubes. Guns.

Persia underestimated the cruelty of the population she cherished.

Some soldiers dropped their guns.
Druig.

Something tugged at her chest, Persia turned and within a second, Makkari stood in front of her.

She had no clue when she learned to see the fastest speedster ever coming.

It's safe for you, the girl signed.

Will you race me?
Persia asked, taking the hand which the girl extended.

Always, Makkari smiled.
Of course, Persia had no chance.

Her feet carried her over the burnt ground, resounding against the pitiful patches of trees.
Breathing calm, yet her heart thudded.
It was almost over.

When she reached the others, Druig was speaking.
"No you can't, but I can!"

He was directing his words towards Phastos, and even if she had just joined, she knew exactly what he was speaking about.
He always brought it up.
Grew impatient and more furious with it.

"It's too late."
Persia searched her eyes for the source of the voice, everyone turning quiet.
They knew that tone.

"Thena?" Sersi hesitated, raising her hand and taking a step closer.

"We are all going to die."
Her eyes turned to glass, mirroring the color of her hair.
A rush of gold tinting them, just as the weapon which formed in her hand.

"Are you okay?"

Persia invisibly gasped for air, Makkari was faster to react and rushed Sersi out of reach before the materialized weapon pierced the air where the woman had just stood.
But they took a hit, the conjuring of blood from their bodies didn't miss Persia's vision.

The woman took an aim for Phastos next, who defenselessly went to the ground as her golden weapon pierced his body.

His pained scream was choked off and turned into a cry.

Makkari headed for her again, pushing her back before Thena could harm Phastos anymore.
But somehow, in that state she was in, a blade managed to stab between Makkari's ribs making her whimper.

It was what made Persia finally move.

She ran over to her friend who had rolled off to the ground, a hand pressed to her bleeding skin.
"Makkari." she whispered, knowing that the girl couldn't even hear her.
Her hand moved to her face, and though it was pained, she at least could follow her eyes.