"Once we find a way out of here, we'll know where we want to go. And where we shouldn't. I don't think you'd want to take a route like this again either."
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A Story about...
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It didn't feel so bad being lonely, he thought to himself. It didn't feel so bad having your skin be filthy and caked with lies that you've built up and up again until you're unrecognizable behind the filth that is your denial. It's a lonely feeling. A lonely, filthy feeling. It was something he was already accustomed to.
Maybe this time, he has gone a little too far. He didn't try in this lifetime. It didn't matter if everything was going to end up the same.
When the fire first scorched the village, it felt as if time had stopped for everyone— Everyone who was still breathing. Those who had been "lucky" enough were left unscathed, but their lungs filled to the brim with acrid smoke, blackening their crystal bodies and choking them until they can no longer breathe.
The ones alive— The ones who were able to stand and lasted longer against smoke— Helped those who were stuck under rubble and whatever rocks or mud puddles that fell when the ball of fire seared the area. Their skin began to stink of burnt flesh, a smell so horrible they could only feel as if they were letting the scent of death fill their nostrils.
And they were all hidden behind the dark smoke killed them every second, suffocating painfully before giving out to the contaminated air and the fire that began to spread onto trees and plants alike. There was no screaming heard after the village became engulfed in flames because the second it began to spread, there were already too many people unconscious or dead to scream in panic.
"Your Highness..." A servant greeted Diwata with a bow, her face full of fear and sweating buckets before the Queen, "The village... destroyed... my younger brothers are still inside the house..."
She began muttering. Not to the queen, but to herself. Her eyes were wide and reddened with a prominent shaking in her hands as she bowed. She shook until she could no longer realize that the Ophirian queen sat before her, watching her fall into a disconsolate state.
Diwata did not move or flinch upon hearing the news. She sighs as she placed her elbow on the armrest of the chair, supporting her head with her hand as she watches the servant be excused from the queen, her eyes darkened and red with unshed tears.
"It's a pitiful state this island is in," Diwata mumbled, a Maharlikan guardian beside her flinching at the sudden voice of the queen, "Are there any available battalions at the moment, or has every Maharlikan warrior been to the lunch banquet before all this?"
The guard beside her swallowed down a lump in his throat. A drop of sweat ran down his forehead as he watched the unshifting, indifferent face of the queen sitting beside him.
"Your highness... The only available battalions are at the farthest side of the shore. I don't...— I don't believe that we'll be able to contact the leader in time."
