Night of the Fracturing
Their blades collided in a ferocious waltz, clanging in timed harmony with the flaring of their rage. Not more than a second seemed to pass without a spark illuminating the desolate and scarred landscape, once so lively and colorful. Consumed now only by the grey of ash and stark crimson of blood.
Of the innocent and guilty. Of the children and elderly. Blood so fresh that it clung to their feet; so thick and stiff it was as if the dead were trying to drag them down to Sanctum as payment for their transgressions. Even so, as their world burned around them, as their lovers and families faded away to rot and misfortune, they fought on.
Effortlessly, she spun, bounded, and leaped off of the dilapidated, soot-covered fixture of a once extravagant home in an attempt to dart towards thicker shadows; flawlessly he glided to intercept her path, holding on to what little time he had left here with her. By all accounts, he had loved her as well as he could and was none too keen to let their time together end before was necessary.
Through her teeming rage she too was able to feel the remnants of much happier times between them, flicking through her memories with each collision. Clinging to relentless love and compassion, they fought on.
Night would soon begin to give way to a faint lavender luminescence creeping over the horizon, marking the end he had loathingly fled for far too long. There was little doubt in his eyes that she would mark him irredeemable after they parted this last time as he could feel murderous intent radiating from her core.
The young woman held her pristine curved blade outwards, reflecting the budding light of a new day down it’s length, and lunged forth with all of her might towards his hooded visage with an assuming smile tugging at her muck covered cheeks, only to be met by an empty pocket of space and an insidious laughter retreating on the wind. As most madmen do, he believed he had done what was best; rationalizing with himself that hope would do her no good in the world to come.
Her eyes skittered frantically from side to side, encompassing all the carnage and emptiness they had created in their disastrous dance. She was engulfed in a mighty fury, unakin to any flame or beast ever witnessed in all of The Territories.
Her lips tore and wept torrents of crimson as she roared in anguish, her voice shattered into a sobering whimper, resounding in contrast to the weighted silence surrounding her.
Though even after having been so close to finally ending her torment, even after he had escaped with her blade inches away from his throat, even now she offered him no victory; her knees would not buckle. Instead, she shook with chilling violence as hungering flames edged nearer.
They’d all trusted him so blindly, allowed him to take charge, take part in every last vestige of life on Noctra, and he betrayed them. He massacred every last Ta’ and she knew the Nomads were next, she knew her people would join the dead before long. All she could think to do was scream as ash fell around her. Ash was all that was left of the Venerable Ta’, of their precious Ta’Hun, their festival of peace. Ash was all that remained of her dearest friends.
All she had left was her daughter. All she had left was Amberosin.