𝕸𝖀𝕽𝕯𝕰𝕽 | 𝖂𝖊𝖉𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖉𝖆𝖞

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖎𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓

~

XV

~

Aiyla was about to become an actual terrorist.

She really meant it this time: not as a joke, or the witty reply when some racist woman asked if Osama Bin Laden were her uncle, or as her reaction when she accidentally set her microwave on fire.

This was the real deal.

To extreme or not to extreme; that is the question?

Self-deprecating islamophobia jokes aside, Aiyla nodded to Onyx as she and Wednesday made their way over to the Jericho High Band for their performance. The afternoon was about to get very interesting. And not just because she would be singing a song she'd heard for the first time five minutes ago.

She glared at the huge, bronze statue of the coloniser Joseph Crackstone. A coloniser and murderer, from what Wednesday had told her of what happened in her vision. If anything, Aiyla dearly wished she was blowing up the real Crackstone today, Wrath would have given anything to hear the tortured screams of a piece of scum like that. 

By the time she had reached the microphone and speakers, the mayor was already speaking his awful excuse for a speech.

"It is my honour to celebrate our town's history, and Jericho's noble forefather: Joseph Crackstone," the mayor announced, as Weems went to stand next to him.

More like whitewash it.

"Now, he believed that with a happy heart and an open ear, that there was nothing our town couldn't achieve," the mayor continued.

Liar.

Aiyla, Wednesday, Thing and Onyx all exchanged a look.

"So together, from the people in our community and our friends at Nevermore Academy, we built a monument to celebrate his memory," the mayor went on to say.

To hold up the false legacy of a mass murderer.

Aiyla despised the way that Weems stood there, fakely smiling at them all - did she not know the true history of the atrocities committed against her own people? And if she did, then why pour all that money into Jericho?

"Now, may the spirit of Joseph Crackstone be memorialised for eternity," the mayor finished, making the sign for the musicians to begin playing.

Aiyla rolled her eyes and began to sing. The microphone broadcasted her voice across the entire area, and it echoed melodiously within the air.

She only wished she wasn't singing the shitty song belonging to the page of lyrics in front of her.

The crowds began to cheer as the mayor pushed a button that caused water sprinklers to pour from the statue.

Gasoline.

Aiyla watched as Onyx flew through the air, diving towards the ground - a match in her beak - and swiped the match across the ground with enough speed that it lit. The crow tossed the match to Thing, who lit the trail of sulfur on the ground.

Smoke began to plume in the air as the spark quickly travelled across the field, drawing attention as people begun to assume there would be a fireworks display miraculously lit up with the quickly moving ember.

Instead, Aiyla and Wednesday smirked as the spark made its way to the fountain below the statue.

BANG!

And then the whole statue and fountain burst into flames with a huge explosion.

Shrieks filled the air, accompanied by the thundering of feet, as people began to run and scream - panicking as they tore away from the scene.

The dangerous orange glow from the fire made the angles in the girls' faces seem more intimidating and nefarious as they stared darkly at the chaotic mess of the crowds.

Wednesday began to draw out agitated notes on her cello, that filled the air with sparks of tension.

Aiyla began to sing again, this time, her voice was rich in tone and the vocalisation was darker. She let her melody get higher and higher as Wednesday began to play an intense arrangement of Vivaldi's 'Winter'.

The two girls stayed stationary, still singing and playing as the fire ranged being them and the people screamed and ran in disarray around them.

Aiyla and Wednesday both shot Weems, who was hiding behind a street sign, a look of smug satisfaction as Aiyla's song crescendo-ed into a high note. Weems glared back at them.

They were in so much trouble.

And through it all, a tortured artist still stayed standing in his place beside the bleachers, observing the insane singer with a strange look on his slightly frowning face. Almost as if he was truly seeing her again. As a piece of art. As his inspiration. As his muse.

Oh, Xavier Thorpe knew Aiyla Demir was a monster. He knew she was stained in blood and rage. But instead of running away from the carnage she wreaked, he only stared at the dancing orange flames in awe of what the singer could achieve.

Aiyla was a murderer.

But murder was an art.

And Xavier wanted to throw himself into those flames just so that he could feel her warmth.