No…the glint of the sword and those egret wings, the sheer power they possessed that never before were seen by his people, only meant to be used for healing and only belonging to the man that was his father.No, his father was incapable of such a mocking smile, incapable of raising a sword against his own beloved son that he gave his own life to protect. His instincts guided the oncoming storm of slashes and stabs aside, his doubts aside.

Still, the latter hindered him enough for the puppet to fathom an effective idea: instead of attacking the skilled Nokshan, it stunned him with an explosion, cratering the ceilings directly above them and tested the crumbling temple further. While Aldebaran dodged debris and shielded the villager and Horatio nearby, the grey-winged launched itself at him with a spiral of maddened slashes, though he saw through the apparent disorder and found an easy crack within its defenses that allowed him to put the corpse back to peace. When he raised his attention back the egret, it had swept to Athlem’s side on her unawares with a smooth bat of the wings, and only by Lyra’s warning and her last-minute spell the blade missed her vitals, but the pierced shoulder stunned her. The egret kicked the doctor aside, Lyra screeched something incomprehensible. He told Horatio to take the villager and doctor to safety, and his wings carried him swifter than Horatio’s panic. The puppet gathered yet more energy into his hands, and it took shape, grew dangerous edges. A spear? A long sword? He didn’t really try to see it as he just thought about getting to her. It raised the deadly weapon, brought it down. He called forth spirits of his own, dove.

She was deafened by a screech of the earth as it shivered under an explosion of heat and sounds and light, blinded, deafened, scorched. The temple’s only thin traces of light had been extinguished, and she willed to tear herself free from the rubbles.

Lyra? His protective arm was about her shaking frame. Hold still.

He eased the rubbles off her leg, pulled her free; she screamed into her sleeve.

He hovered a hand over the broken bones and flesh, she leaned into him instinctively, felt the breath of his words brushing the top of her head, this time said aloud as though for affirmation. “Hold still.” It was that same warm sensation engulfing her poor leg to the point that it was nearly unbearably scorched before all the pain were memories.

“Thank you…” She wanted to see him, but a vague outline in the darkness was all her human eyes could make out; then she remembered her aunt. “Athlem, is she…”

“I forced the others to go ahead first,” Alde suddenly slinked away, reducing the enveloping warmth of his being to but a single hand helping her to her feet.

She felt stupidly alone, tested her steps before nearly stepping on what she could only assume to be the limp body of the white-winged Nokshan. So in the end, she bit her already cut lips. I still failed to protect him.

Alde pulled her forward, “I am only sustaining this place from falling apart for a while, so let’s go.”

He dragged her along the sharp turns made more difficult by her still weak leg and his unwillingness to slow down. Still, she fought to keep up, as each treacherous step lend to more rays of light courageously leading them to the exit. It wasn’t so bad after awhile, she thought she was matching his pace. Then she realized it wasn’t that she was getting faster, but that he was slowing down, perhaps the darkness was an obstacle even for a Nokshan since his steps slip once or twice amongst their long trek.

At some point, she just focused on the ground immediately before her in fear of twisting her ankles or falling on those jagged, broken rocks. Then she saw at first the imperceivable spots. Irregular, but more and more common. She attempted to distinguish it, thought it some rare stone unearthed by the explosions, but as she walked on a ray of light struck a spot and the dark red beamed back alarm. Too fixated in her study she didn’t see the feet before her pause, and she effectively crashed into him.

“Sorry,” He mumbled, made a lame attempt at continuing forward but instead slumped against a convenient wall.

“Alde!” She flew to his side, wrestled his wings aside to expose his face dressed in deathly palor and his tunic darkened by malicious crimson. “My God, you…” He crumbled to his knees, brows wrinkled in troubled perturbation as he attempted to find her face within the blurred visions multiplying before him.

“Lyra, I…,” If he was to die, would it be selfish to tell her? She was holding him as though he was made of glass, though his mind was muddled and she failed to see. “You…you are…”

As though to thwart him even at a time like this, the ground beneath them growled, antiquated bricks gave way in the distance.

“No…get up,” She swung his arm over her shoulder, managing to hoist him up with incredible effort. “We have to get out of here.”

He mumbled, his conscious slipping as much as her steps. She didn’t notice how blinding the sunlight was when she set foot upon soft dirt and grass, didn’t notice the distress of her aunt and uncle when they found her covered in blood, didn’t mind the villager’s state of shock at the defeat of not one, but three Nokshans. All she knew was the haggard breath brushing against her neck, the suppressed winces of pain that tore at her heart, that they were far too slow, that she hated herself when she couldn’t heal him due to some strange disturbances within his own spirits. All she knew was that if his heart stopped, so would hers.


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