When The Chairs of Today are Over

Day 1 - Prologue, Wails of the Hymn

"I-I c-can't. N-No... W-Why... H-How..."
"They have fallen, my love. They have fallen."
"A-Aaron, my love... Why?"
"N-No... I can't... I don't want to accept this..."
"You have to, Micah, love. It is for our survival."

Day 1
They have fallen. 
The protectors of the land; the divine, humanity's one and only hope is gone.

A cascade of incessant tears rolls down my tender cheeks. My wits are a mess. I wail silently as my love holds me close and tight, while murmuring prayers to whatever Paragon was left.

My love holds me closer, embracing my ever-fading warmth and wiping away each glistening tear drop with a perturbed expression. 

He and I witnessed the fall of the last Paragon that protects us.
My head goes faint, my insides churn, and my guts tighten and constrict like a Python suffocating its prey at the horrors laid out in front of me like a gory play. The only difference between the fantasy webcomics I read is that now it's reality. It is no longer the fiction I wish it was. Every slight mistake in movement, or brief shift in volume could spell my doom.

My heart pounds violently against my chest. I feel like it could perforate out at any given moment.

 We snuck into and hid in an alley to keep ourselves safe just in case the Paragons were to fall. And thank the Paragons we did. 

After the last Paragon was struck down by... them, they began massacring each and every living moving organism nearby. It was a total one-sided slaughter fest. Sounds of flying bullets, whistling spears and sounds of torturous agony and sounds of unhinged laughter could be heard from any direction. 

They completely laid waste to our home, our memories, our regrets, our childhood... not even dust exists after their waking blaze. 

I could only faintly see it through the cataract of tears and process it with the abundance of emotions, them. Their ash black cloaks, golden hues of corset-like clothing with a slight hint of bloody red in an unwonted pattern.

What could we have done to wanton such ruination to us...? No matter how... No... It's over now, all we need to think of is survival. I refuse to believe that there is rhyme and reason for such damnation for us.

My love held my head into his chest to let me embrace him close while I sob into his baby blue sweater. His arms constipate around me while I suffer a panic attack, with each instantaneous gasp for air, his pained expression grows more and more evident. He doesn't seem disturbed by the fact that our lives are practically over, almost as if he knew something like this would happen. His pained expression only grows as my hyperventilating worsens; he doesn't seem bothered by anything else.

A city of 910,000 citizens. 
A city of prosper and glamour.
A city of memories, where my first love bloomed.
Reduced to ash and rubble, a barren wasteland. 

The number of survivors left.... Could be counted with one hand. 
Me and my love, we're among them.