Axa Ladion has been hunted viciously by the world's most powerful elemental user for as long he remembers. Years of running from everyone he knows, or used to know. Destruction of buildings, deaths, and darkness forced onto him the title of world's...
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• Bombs On Monday Morning - Melanie Martinez •
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an explosion, any moment
you make moments last forever and ever
eyes like hazel
twinkle in the starlight
even when they're crying
constellations
forming out of scar lines
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Sunlight streamed across the rooftops, setting a picturesque soft glow over the buildings, stacked like dominoes.
This would be the day Salera's life ended, even though she didn't know it. And like all days, it starts with a walk to school. Such a normal, exquisite, thing she could've imagined disaster happening anytime other that this.
School shooting in history class? Possible.
Start of a nuclear war announced in the school cafeteria, amidst messy food spills and styrofoam cups? Wouldn't be the craziest thing she could imagine.
But their walk to school? Early mornings where the birds still sang and the sun was barely peeking over the horizon, golden light drenching their moods light?
No. That was their little slice of paradise, where nothing could hurt them, because it was too peaceful and bright, and too perfect.
Until today.
She scuffs her shoe against the ground, barely listening to the faint conversation before her. Axa, eyes flickering crystal blue, strides ahead of her, carrying a quiet conversation with Sophia. He laughs, and jealously bubbles in her chest.
She's not supposed to be jealous. It's just a conversation. And Axa is only her friend.
The ground shakes, and Salera is suddenly aware something is very, very wrong.
Then the world falls around her, and her thoughts are lost in a whirlpool of panic. In the blink of an eye, the sun falls, falls with the sight of the sky, fading in a storm of broken bricks and glass.
She screams.
Fire. Smoke. Rubble, spilling down from dark corners. And from the corner of her eye, electricity sparks and flows across the ground faintly, criss crossed with white. She knows what that means.
Axa. Axa, and his ever sparking flames of blue and white, that spreads across the sky in a broken flowered pattern. Broken, but beautiful.
Salera crawls desperately across to the fading gleam of light, elbows scraping against the rough rock. Blood streams down her arms, her knees, but she barely feels the pain.
Then the world flashes white, clear, blank, white, and she collapses to the ground into a pool of darkness.
When she wakes up, she's staring at a glaring light. The question of death flurries through her mind, but then again, being dead shouldn't hurt so much.
Salera pushes herself up, glancing at her surrounding. The blank wall she faces dances in her vision, and she blinks it straight.
Blood is the first thing she notices. Blood, staining a metallic blanket, layering her fingers. Her head aches, a dull pain at the back of her skull.
Oh. The building. The collapse. Alarm pulses through her, and her breath catches in her throat, making her head spin, dizzying circles spun round her vision.
Sophia.
Axa.
She scrambles off the flimsy bed, frame creaking, and nearly blacks out again as she lands- well- falls, almost, on her feet unsteadily.
The ambulance doors slide open easily, letting the light afternoon sunshine pour through. She's been out that long?
It takes her a while to find out the whole truth, never ending questions strangling answers from the doctors surrounding her that just don't seem to want to talk.
But she finds the truth. She's also been good at burrowing answers out of people, and she will continue to do so bruised and broken.
Sophia is dead. And Axa is gone, the only evidence of him ever being there a scrap of his clothing caught on broken wires and his distinct sting of electricity let buzzing faintly across the fallen building.
Her last family, cold and covered in a tight white sheet, like not being able to see her will make it better. She puts a hand on hers, and the only thing she can think about is how cold it is.
And maybe the fire in her soul dies that day with her sister, because she doesn't cry, or scream, or sob her eyes out like she would've any other day.
She stands, feeling as cold as the corpse next to her, and thinks about the boy with lighting in his eyes and sparks at his fingertips, and how she will kill him.
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