Journey onto the Storm (BOOK 2)

Chapter 2

ADARA

—in the verdant fields, no one knew the truth. Underneath those beautiful green tussocks was layered with ages of blood. People laughed. People loved. People danced, sang and played atop this blanket of beauty, where the bones of war returned to the world. A pyre of flowers and grass to grow on for ages more, bathed in the flames of the sun. Those who walked the path made of mud and loss, and the people who walked after and knew it not of horror, but of hope.

Carts rolled past with the wounded after the dead had long since burned on their pyre of flowers and grass. Fenrer communed all through the days and nights, sending the souls to the Otherworld. 'Avae'londu,' the Naveerans muttered. 'Velteraiia,' Hanekans spoke while they hummed their drumming loss.

At least... I think that's what they said.

Storm Wardens patrolled the outskirts of the Summit fields while the Dyrin contingent took all those with the worst injuries onto the train back home to seek quick treatment. Another one of Yuven's plans, which led to all the death as they threw themselves as the Derelicts, all to protect what they loved.

"Send out the worst of the injuries," Yuven ordered the almost too late reinforcements. "Sovereign Hirishi has offered to take them back as fast as possible straight to Azahama. Everyone else will have to make do while we take care of the rest of the dead."

Days passed, and some never made it through the night before the train left them behind.

"Where is Fenrer?" Yuven asked one Storm Warden while Adara hung back.

"Last I saw him he was performing another ritual for any wayward spirits by himself," the Storm Warden said with a frown. "He's been doing it the whole time, Captain. I don't think he's stopped since the attack."

I believe.

Adara kept her head low as the Storm Warden smacked their hand against the wyvern insignia with a short bow to Yuven before racing past her. "Was this really the only way?" Unable to find her voice in a river of the bloodstained plains, she bit on her tongue and wished for a different tale, and a lighter note to end on. "Was this the only option?"

Yuven's hard violet gaze appraised her, and he twisted on his heel. He opened his mouth, but he stopped when another cart rocked past for the next train. Those with minor injuries, but the loss molded their expressions into visages of despair. Adara brought a hand up to her heart when a child sniffled against their mother's coat, their other small hand wrapped around a knitted bird.

"I want Dad... where is he?"

Tears left trails on the smudged dirt on the woman's face as she held her child in a strong, unwavering grip. The cart hit a small mud hole, and the child whined when the doll hit the ground. "Wait! My bird!" Their arms waved out, but their mother steadied them with a soft hush. "I can't leave it behind!" Their body quaked with sobs as their mother shut her eyes tight and stifled her own.

Adara made to move, but Yuven beat her first.

He stepped out onto the muddy path as the cart slowed. He walked and knelt down as he went, his fingers catching the mud-splattered stuffy. Everyone within the small carriage turned their heads to him and the cart came to a stop. Wind hushed through the trees as he hesitated at the edge, and then held the stuffy out to the child with an unreadable expression on his face.

The child reached out to hug the bird, dirt and all. "Thank you, Mr. Warden," they whispered with a sniff, and then tucked back into their mother, keeping the bird locked between them.