The mist folded into layers, sprinkled with a sour taste excreted from drains and graves, the liquids of decay. The squeaks of rats and the caws of crows mocked the miserable humans as they feasted on the flesh of corpses that had not yet been collected and burnt as days passed, allowing nature to reclaim what was rightfully hers. Orphans and stragglers stared at their families and friends who had died an undignified death, their bodies slowly disintegrating into dust, their fat occasionally used to fuel fires for the emotionless living. Defeated, pale with fear and cold, many turned to crime, from looting to robbery to murder and rape, drowning the town with the sound of cries from day to night. Everyone had lost all human integrity, and the foundations of what was once the pillar of society collapsed under the weight of the needy. The sin of greed, ingrained in their survival instincts, grew, but they could not be blamed. They never imagined, as residents of a well-fortified island, that they would live to see the day when their homes would be razed, but they were simply unfortunate enough to have witnessed the last instance of aircraft use in war as the reserves of black gold finally ran dry.
Limping, his legs ailing, a boy hiked uphill with a body on his back as his breath and sweat turned into steam. He was sickened by what was happening around him, as vulnerable as any other his age, but the unforgiving aura he exuded staved off those who tried to prey on him, and he carried on, not minding the evildoers. As he hiked over valleys and canyons of cracked pavement, avoiding ledges and cliffs that had not been there before, the youngster overcame every obstacle along the treacherous path he no longer recognised, which he used to walk with his sister, whose cold, slack arms were wrapped around him. Her head was slumped over on his shoulder like she used to do whenever she faked falling asleep on his back, but it was not the same anymore. Without her breath on his back, without her emotions, and without her voice, she had become an empty vessel. Soon, the boy came upon a house at a dead end in a road that had been blockaded by a landslide.
It had trees and bushes bearing resemblance to the flora of his front yard, but they had been stripped to the core as if thunder had struck them. The gusts blew over the ashen landscape on the silent hillside, and it seemed unsafe to put himself at risk of an adventure, but the boy ventured into the remains of his home nonetheless with the intention of fulfilling his sister’s will. The grass was black, and a single crater had replaced their living room, which had been flattened except for one wall and a doorway. Its ruins of splinters, stones, and shards of glass were piled into little mounds like a rubbish heap, and the scent of charcoal lingered. He moved around the ruins of his home and approached what had once been his back garden, crushing the last strands of grass beneath his boots. For once, they had come home together after school, moving through a striking tunnel of vines and wilted flowers that resembled a collage from an art gallery, which scratched him as he protected his little sister from further harm. When he slipped through a narrow gap into the back garden, he felt like he could finally breathe again, having arrived at her chosen resting place.
Everything had been burnt to ashes, and the only thing that could be salvaged was the view of the sea, which the boy had never seen so clearly, obstructed only by pillars of smoke from human bonfires that transformed the sky into a painting of darkness. The channel of water that separated their home from the continent was unreflective and barren, devoid of boats and ferries that had sunk in Bristel’s port. Thousands of bodies and debris washed ashore, littering the once-scenic coastline from headland to headland, with many of the town’s survivors living under tarps and tents on the promenade, guarded by mercenaries and garrison troops who were always ready to ward off those who could not afford them. Standing closer to the heavens, away from humans, where no warmth or cold could harm him, the boy stared at the sparse sea, feeling hollow of emotions except a welling wrath directed at the skies. He did not think about the hundreds of millions who had to suffer the same fate as him or the hundreds of millions who would follow, instead blaming the deities for breathing life into humans while they sat on their thrones in paradise, watching chaos unfold.
The boy trudged towards a ditch he had dug the day before, slowly knelt down, and laid his sister on a bed of sheets and blankets that would protect her from the earth, even if he eventually had to bury her under a tree that had somehow survived, providing what little life it could to the lifeless garden. Her body was wrapped in bandages, and knowing he would never see her again left another wound in his heart. He clasped her hands together and straightened her body for burial, as if she were praying for her soul to be free of pain so that she could be born into her next life, whoever, wherever, and whenever that might be. Arminius begged the gods not to let her return to his world, which would be an unjust punishment, as he fought back tears that watered the earth and trickled onto Elise’s remains.564Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmGBu6r1eZ1
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