Afton Random Books

Revolutionary AU: Bumantara

-VL-

"The people of the Moon use tuberose flowers for most of their medicine; severe injuries, normal injuries, fever, and other things. They grow a special type of tuberose flower, Bumantara, it means sky. Bumantara only grows in their yard, not anywhere else in the earth."

Fires were blazing.

Patterns of light shone in the reflection of his eyes, blowing and painting the darkness, the heat that made his skin sweat, his lips tremble and his knees sway to the ground. Watching the burning embers devour the entire garden, all the plants that were barely blooming melted, the flowers scorched in the whirlwind that carried the fire with them. There was a young man, his two feet were supported by clear crystals as a foothold in the sky, his hand tightly gripped a spear, his head looked down, the star symbol on his forehead was shining, his blonde hair seemed to be shining as well.

The Star only had strong, skilled soldiers for their muscle strength, no more magic users, his people had eradicated them more than twenty years ago. However, there was no way his eyes could deceive him, the hidden magical potential of the last successor of the Star had erupted, a prevision his people feared.

He couldn't put out the fire, the wave of water he poured in from a nearby pond evaporated before he could even douse it. In vain, Bumantara's garden had been completely destroyed, faint screams from the village were still ringing.

His instincts suddenly alerted him, he threw himself to the side and a gust of wind fluttered his black hair in another direction after the sword swing disarmed him. He rolled backwards as another blond youth rushed at him, his hand gripping the hilt of the sword tightly, the metal reflecting his horrified expression as the weapon was drawn straight and he held the blades together with his fingers, creating a vibration that ran between his hands. The young man jumped back only to have the sword released from his grasp.

He recognized the engraving on the sword, an ancient engraving belonging to the Star. He gritted his teeth and dodged again when for the third time, owner of the sword slid while swinging, he opened his palms and brought his wrists together after extending them forward, a black shadow immediately surrounded the young man but suddenly collapsed as the sword's blade cracked the barrier. He didn't have time to cast another spell when the young man jumped up and was about to stab him, but his eyes widened as a dagger thrown from another direction deflected the blade, creating a loud sound of two pieces of metal colliding.

"Aaron, retreat."

A voice he knew so well, he turned his head; lips parted slightly and eyebrows knitted together to find a brown-haired man walking towards them. The leader of the revolution in the midst of chaos of their government. Those blue eyes were shiny, reflecting the light of fire that scorched the entire garden, a cold expression.

"He is a member of Moon's royal family."

His head cocked slightly. "I know," the man said, his voice still the same as the last time he heard him. "Retreat. Step one has been completed."

His eyes watched the young man nod obediently and take a few steps back from them, then his eyes rolled again, their gaze met and his voice still caught in his throat. There was nothing meaningful behind the revolutionary's gaze, only hatred, which then faded into calmness. He reached into his pocket, took out something, a sprig of tuberose. William held out the flower to him, he felt his breath hitched.

The last Bumantara is with William.

"How does it feel to lose what should be important to your kind?"

He couldn't answer the question.

The flower fell to the ground, he couldn't move his body as the soles of William's shoes stepped on each petal until it came off the stem, then spat out. His lips trembled, his eyebrows were knitted together deeply, no sound came out. The twinkle of hatred in those blue eyes returned.

"Feel it, Vincent, the wrath of the stars. This war will not end until the last moon's blood drips from their necks."