❝ᕼEᒪᒪ ᕼᗩTᕼ ᑎO ᖴᑌᖇY ᒪIKE ᗩ ᗯOᗰᗩᑎ SᑕOᖇᑎEᗪ.❞
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( SHADOW AND BONE ━ SEASON ONE )
( BOOK ONE OF THE INFERNAL TRILOGY )
(disclaimer: I do not own SAB. I only own Anya Oryalen and other scenes and characters...
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The air of the valley was fraught with gunfire and screams. Coldness seeped into her bones, blood drenching the snow all around her. With a groan, Anya stirred, quickly shooting up. How long had she been out? She looked around, death grabbing her by the throat and dread pooling in her stomach as her eyes scanned over the unraveling massacre in front of her. Drüskelle rained down from the mountainous sides of the valley, rifles shooting round after round. With a flurry of hands movements, a tidemaker flung a wave of snow, capturing a few of the grisha hunters in it.
"Are you okay?" She yelled, trying to be heard above the sound of the battle before a bullet whizzed through the air, piercing her abdomen on the inside of her kefta as her body keeled over onto the Oryalen woman. Dropping to her knees, she cradled the other woman's body in her lap, pushing her bright hair from her face. "No no no, it's going to be okay!" The young grisha woman muttered as she tried to stop the bleeding, the light already leaving her eyes.
A Drüskelle headed at the inferni in full speed, axe raised high. With the snap of her fingers, fire blossomed at the center of her palms, slinging it into his face as he dropped to the ground, screaming in agony. Flipping the axe in her hand, Anya looked around, spotting a gunman taking aim at a heartrender before cocking her arm backwards. The axe swung through the air, lodging itself deep into the skull of the Drüskelle, the heartrender nodding a thanks. Anya surveyed once more, her heart sinking. Everywhere she looked, grisha dropped dead on the ground even more then the Drüskelle combined.
The raven-haired's hands clapped together, a mighty wave of flames shooting from in between them, lighting the trees, lighting the gunmen, lighting everything in the path of her rage. Something inside her snapped, thinking of Zhana, Ilya, even Anastasia and the others. They were losing. They were dying. The Oryalen woman's chest heaved, fury coursing beneath the surface as blood and tears fell down her face, screaming her vocal cords raw.
Breathing deeply, her nostrils flared before she bunched her hands into fists, the sea of fire stopping its flow. Silence cracked through the air, and for a minute only the rustling of the trees could be heard. The inferni knew that it wouldn't last long. The Drüskelle were rarely with few, more were bound to come their way, especially after the hellfire she had just released. "ZHANA! ILYA!" She shouted as she looked around, heart racing madly in her chest.
Out of the corner of her eye, Anya saw a speck of purple lying in the snow, another man ontop of him. "Ilya!" The raven-haired skidded to a stop, pushing the Drüskelle off him, relieved that he only had a wound on his leg. "A-Anya." He sighed, thanking the saints that it was his friend. A laugh split on their faces as the raven-haired hauled him up, helping him lean on her. A few grisha stood up, some dazed and confused while others howled in sadness over their fallen friends. "Anya! Ilya!" A voice shouted behind The Oryalen woman. Zhana ran to them, ice blonde hair whipping around her head. The squaller wrapped her arms around them, happy that they were spared.
