Obsidian: Retribution (Book 2)

Fifty-Four: Monsters in the Dark

Live, my son. No matter what happens, you have to live...

Lasura jerked his eyes open at the pressure that slammed down on his chest, lurching up in a series of coughs as he desperately searched for air. His father's voice, a command that had come out of nowhere, was still there, swimming in his head, repeating itself as he tried to breathe.

Above him, Saya sighed in relief before slumping back against the wall, or whatever was left of it. "We have to move," she said. "There could be an aftershock. Can you walk?"

He pushed himself up on wobbly knees, felt some rubbles falling off his clothes as he did, and realized by some miracles he'd managed to survive with most of his limbs intact. It did hurt everywhere, and his head seemed to be bleeding, but he didn't think he'd broken a bone. "I think so." He guessed. He hadn't had time to check his own injuries. Does it even matter, really? One way or another, he would have to drag himself out of here.

The tremor had stopped, for how long, he couldn't tell. Rubbles of collapsed ceiling and walls filled the long corridor. A sheet of dust still hovered thickly around them, looking for a place to land. Small fires were burning here and there, seemed about to go out with the spilled oil being more or less consumed. The smokescreen it created added to the already poor visibility, making it near impossible to see further than a few steps ahead, and unbearably difficult to breathe. The air smelled like sulfur, like soot, like blood, and something dangerous he couldn't quite pinpoint. The tunnel was quiet now, save for a few sounds of broken things rolling or landing somewhere at intervals. Everything seemed to have settled, except this feeling in his gut that he'd forgotten something important...something...

Djari...

It knocked him awake like a fist in the head––the cold, crippling panic that swarmed him all at once. His legs were moving before he knew where he was going, his stomach was flooding with an urgent need to throw up.

"Where is Djari?" She was right here. He was running to her, before the ceiling collapsed.

He grabbed the first rubble, threw it off the pile, and went for another. She was on the other side, she had to be. Or she was under. If she was under..."Djari!" Answer me. Please. Make a sound.

He stopped to listen. No answers. No trace of her, anywhere. How long had he been unconscious? How long could someone survive being trapped under these ruins? Was he too late?

"Stop!" Saya was pulling him away from behind. He pushed her aside, and started digging again.

Stop, she'd said. How do you stop? Even if you knew the answers? How do you settle for that outcome? The moment he gave up, he would have to live with that reality. He would have to live in the world where there was no Djari. How do you stop?

No, there was still time. There had to still be time. People survived these things for a while, anywhere, sometimes in worse condition. She was also young. She was the chosen one. She wasn't going to die here. She couldn't.

'One day... I will find a place for you.' Her words, drifting now in his mind, like a prelude to a reality he still refused to see, to settle. 'Somewhere without walls, without prejudice, without––'

Stop. Be quiet. He yelled at the noise, the sound, the memory that grew louder and louder in his head. Don't do that. Not yet. Get out of my head. She isn't dead.

"Djari!" He was screaming her name. How many times, he'd lost count. He felt the need to shout, to drown out the words from those memories, the answers in his head, the sound of Saya telling him it was pointless. You have a destiny to fulfill. You made a promise to me. I haven't taken you to the sea. I haven't... "Djari!"