Behind him was his path home, but it had been blocked by a rockslide and a wall of swarming flames that ignited in the reflections of his peaceless eyes. The only way out of this hell was to enter the town of cries, so he began his trek across the wake of the blitz, but he felt his wounds enslaving his body as he left a trail of blood in his footsteps on a journey that felt endless. It did not help that he was being deafened by the screams and being blinded by the vivid blazes birthed from the hatches of the air fleet that had gone as quickly as it came. He tried to find whatever life he could, but no such thing remained. When he came about a turn in the path, the boy entered what was the beginning of a commercial district, a short walk away from the waterfront, but the town before him had already become an unfamiliar husk of stone.
Fires raged from the gas lanterns that lined the street of shops caved inward, its doors and windows smashed, flooded by burst pipes muddied by a mixture of sweat, blood, and sea. The district had transformed into a swamp, filled with swirling hot air resembling the heat of an oven, while the sky coated the puddles and ponds with ash. People flitted about in panic as those lightly afflicted cared for those more injured, treating their burns with what little clean water they could find and praying that they could stop their bleeding, but many became still. The further Arminius walked into the darkness, the more he was corrupted by the bitterness of the air stemming from irreparable ailments of innocents around him. Limbs and organs washed ashore and piled up against his feet while he came across a child, much younger than himself, burnt black and red as he cried for his mother, who had been crushed by a piece of wall. The sight caused even the most devout to question whether divine intervention existed, as they believed the gods would never permit such violence. However, they were unaware that the heavens sought chaos. Among the shaken folk, there was one who did their best to help despite their age and lack of strength, and Arminius waded through blood and sea to reach them, somewhat attracted by their familiarity, but he could not tell who it was. His focus was misted, and he could barely make out who seemed to be a boy his age tying a tourniquet around a girl’s arm before reassuring her that help would come. When he turned away to aid more victims of the attack, his eyes met with Arminius’s, and he thought no more than to run over to him. Arminius loosened his body out of relief, and as if every part of him switched off, he wavered and fell onto his side. Lying in shallow waters, a mist washed over him, his hair wet from the sea that must have stung his wounds, but he could not even find the strength to react.
“Hey, hold on!” A faint voice came from the other boy as he ran towards Arminius and slid into the water on his knees.
As he knelt beside Arminius, he felt overwhelmed by the severity of his wounds and was certain that without proper medical knowledge, he could not heal him. Nevertheless, his expression changed from fear to determination. He pressed on Arminius’s wound around the protruding beam, hoping that his shaking hands could at least slow the oozing blood, but his method was futile. It did not stop, and soon his hands were also drenched in blood. Desperately searching for something to transport Arminius to a doctor, he found an abundance of material. On the outdoor tables of cafés and restaurants were cloths and fabrics long enough to hold a boy, and unhesitatingly, the youngster stood up and sprinted towards the nearest shop, slipping over the wet tiled pavement with a burning conviction to see the half-blood boy survive. He reached for the chairs and yanked them away when the interior of the restaurant ignited into a fireball from leaking stoves. The youngster took cover as the glass shattered, covering his eyes from the shards that flew by and cut his cheek. However, he was not bothered by the pain as he grabbed the tablecloth and tore it from the table before dashing away to escape the collapsing building behind him. Hurriedly laying down the tablecloth beside Arminius, he lifted him up by his arms and hauled him onto his makeshift stretcher as the wheezing of the dying boy weakened.
Even though he lacked the strength, the youngster rolled up the end of the tablecloth and began lugging Arminius away. “Just hold on… I’ll take you… to a doctor…” His foreign accent was apparent as he grunted, struggling.
He looked over his shoulder occasionally, making sure that the boy had not slipped off, as they approached what was once the liveliest quarter of the town, where he hoped to find aid from professional doctors and nurses or even half-experienced volunteers. The flocks of crowds were promising; however, everyone was preoccupied with their woes, and it seemed that their best chance lay not with the promenade but the ruined church on the hill of a headland that marked the border of the town, so he gritted his teeth and tried to quicken his pace.
Arminius, though his vision was still much of a blur, could begin to make out the features of the foreigner until a glimpse of familiarity appeared to him like a lost revelation that he had long forgotten. A vestige buried deep in his heart resurfaced ever so briefly, and he was sure that they had never met before, yet his faint subconsciousness told him that they had. “Julien…?” He feebly muttered his name.
The foreigner was taken aback as innumerable questions sprouted out of him. “How did you…?” Stammering, he stared at Arminius, whose eyes had begun to lose their colour.
One's heartbeat raced, and another's began to falter, as darkness slowly reeled Arminius away from the realm of light. Filled with a feeling of reunion, he had already forgotten what he said that made the foreigner puzzled. He could scarcely hear the panic happening around him as his soul waned, staring at the tranquil night sky, ignoring the earthly chaos as he closed his eyes with calmness.637Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwu1Bz3KtNI
and then Add to home screen.