Yi

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" I know my pain is such an imposition,

Now you're running down the hallway,

You know what they all say,

You don't know what you've got, until,

It's gone  "


THE SUN SOLDIERS collectively let out a guttural war cry, piercing the air like a needle pricking the most delicate of fingertips. I watch them start to run as one beast together, weapons raised, faces bearing the symbol of Sankta Alina.

Chaos ensues.

Gunshots are fired like splatters of hail, the sound of nichevo'ya screeching muddling together with human cries of agony as blood is shed and red paints the grassy fields of what once was our home, our palace.

Our sanctuary.

Destroyed with the haunting presence of inhuman beasts formed of shadow and of merzost. The metallic tang of blood fills the air and it feels like a cord has snapped in half, every bit of humanity shattered with the sight of death and gore here today.

I suddenly wonder if closing my eyes and falling right here would be such a bad idea.

Not yet, Yi, Nikolai's voice reminds me.

Nikolai.

Nikolai, the beautiful prince from the stories, who could be dead right now. Nikolai, the boy that came back to me like water flowing down a river. Nikolai, the boy with the pretty eyes and the even prettier grin.

"Make for the chapel!" Tamar roars, snapping me back to reality.

Nikolai is alive, my mind choruses, like a mantra or the hum of a beehive. Alive. He's alive, all you have to do now is survive so you can see him again. Don't cry. Don't cry. 

Don't cry.

"We'll be trapped!" Sergei shouts in protest as we begin to run.

"We're already trapped!" Mal snaps, slinging his rifle onto his shoulder. "Let's go!"

The group of Grisha, the group of survivors, all cluster together as we try to find an opening.

"David!" Alina yells. "The second bomb!"

He obliges and I watch as the gleaming silver cylinder flies into the air. We all dive into the woods, thick greenery that slices our skin and nicks our calves, but the nichevo'ya scream in protest as the bomb explodes, searing white light slipping through the cracks of the trees like a heavenly light.

✵ SWEETER THAN HONEY ― nikolai lantsov ✵Where stories live. Discover now