Aedis: A Country Falls

Zealos Attacks

Smoke rose like ribbons in a deep crimson colour, not unlike that of a thick pool of blood. The rubbled remains of decimated buildings and a few trees lay in the place where the Ceremony had been only minutes earlier. One hundred minature fires spread themselves randomly over the scene. As a breeze blew across Ques face, he inhaled a smell that he didn't know what to think of. At first, it was only the smell of charcoal. That kind of air that when inhaled sent splinters against your tongue and stung your nostrils. A cloud of the dark, red smoke hovered over a pile of rubble on the other side of what had been South street. It was then that he noticed the bodies. Hundreds of them. No, thousands. lining the ground in all sorts of shapes and sizes. Adults. Elderly. Children. Twisted and torn into disfigurement. Bodies without limbs. Limbs without bodies. The smell took him hostage as somewhere in his mind the words repeated. It's them. It's them. The smell. The realisation of what it was made it seem so much worse. It was burning flesh and hair. Que choked on the thought that he was inhaling particles of the dead. As he fell to his hands and knees, his hand was clutched by another that lay on the ground. It had no owner, but the weight of Ques hand on it had caused the tendons to tighten like a mouse trap, entwining fingers and latching onto him. "Eeraagh!!!" He exclaimed in horror as he ripped the hand off his own and threw it a few meters infront of him. It bounced as it hit the ground.

The whole became a blur as it spun around Que violently. His head rolled around on his neck as it were a weight on a spring. His eyes widened, dry and bloodshot, they rapidly began to water, letting out tears. His mouth twisted into a gruesome grimace, stricken in terror, hollow unadulterated fear, the like of which he had never felt before. From his toes all the way up to his head, he could not move. He could not blink. Smoke brushed past his face, wet with the sweat from running all the way to where he now was. Soaked from the tears still streaming. His heart thudded against his chest, feeling as if it would burst at any given moment. He could hear it. The pounding against his rib cage, echoing through his brain. Pulsing through his veins, boiling him alive, as if he was suddenly stricken by a deadly fever. The bodies mangled over pipes and vehicles. Heads crushed between concrete boulders. The stage where his brother stood minutes earlier; broken into three individual pieces.

His breath began to quicken. Guilt flooded through him as Que remembered the last conversation he had with Blake. The words he had said to him.

"I WISH YOU WERE DEAD!" He had screamed terribly, before running away that night.

He had never ment anything more than those words in the moment thst he said it. Some higher power had heard him. Now his wish was fulfilled. And the guilt was rising. A feeling of dread sunk through the young boys body as the words repeated in his head. "You did this. You did this. You did this."

His chest convulsed as a sick feeling forced it's way into him. Hyperventilation set in. Pain. Pain and confusion. And then slowly, a numbness set over his body. Within the span of a moment, basic thoughts became nonsensical. Words and actions became muddled. His eyelids became lead weights and in a dark blur, the vision infront of him faded into black. It was all too much to bear. He felt himself falling forwards. With all of his might, Que forced his hands up to shield his head as it hit the ground.
Weakly, he spat out a mouthful of dirt. There was no energy left in him. Everything was gone. And then, suddenly... A bright flash.

Through his closed eyes it was still blinding. As if he were surrounded by a dome of magnified sunlight. In the following second, a loud crack, not unlike that of a whip. A sudden, deafening explosion. A wave of intense heat. An ocean of fire. Surrounding. Incinerating. All within the span of a few seconds. And then gone. Everything gone. Darkness. A void. A deep sleep. Lifelesness. Death. Que was gone, along with his brother.

Bastion city stayed sleepless that night. Their hearts stricken with terror. Their lives forever changed.

Zealos had made their move. The ceremony that was supposed to bring hope to The people. The answer to it all. Siezed by the enemy, used as an opportunity to breed fear in the hearts of the masses. A massacre. Aedis heard Zealos' message loud and clear. They wrote their words through the bombing. And it read, "No one was safe." Not even the Reign could protect them from this war. The people were pawns now. Children grasped at their parents for words of wisdom. A silver lining. But words fell on deafened ears. Desperate faces on lifeless eyes. It was gone. All hope was gone.