Stars & Night

[War]

It'd been a week since the ball. The days had moved torturously slow, while the pressure of time hung over my head, like an incessant gnat. I only had five weeks before I graduated and completed the program. And then my every waking moment would be spent at the warfront, where I stood no chance at ever escaping this place.

Ophela stood next to me in Bending class, her shadows whipping at the wooden dummy in front of us. We shared a stifled laugh as the recruit in front of us missed their dummy, and hit the professor square in his behind.

I was glad to be partnered with Ophela, her shadows contained and precise. While others' shadows ran rampant throughout the room, appearing to have a mind all on their own. I still wondered why they had me come to this class. There was no one there that knew light bending, that knew the intricacies of how to wield it. Except for me.

"Your turn." Ophela grinned at me hesitantly, slightly out of breath.

I sent out my starlight, and it hovered around the wooden figure, teetering it back and forth in soft swaying motions, as if it were dancing. Ophela giggled next to me.

"No! No! No!" I heard the protests of the professor boom over the chatter of the rest of the class. "You cannot expect to fight a battle by simply swaying your opponent to death!"

I clenched my fist, my starlight retreating back into me. The teacher's face was bright red with the energy from screeching, his short legs propelling his plump body towards me at surprising speed.

I stood my ground.

"The power of light does not destroy."

"What then, when a wildling charges you in battle? It is kill or be killed out there. You need to be prepared!"

"Starlight does not destroy." I repeated.

"Stubborn girl! I– "

An alarm started blaring over the camp. Everyone froze, and the room became eerily silent, aside from the incessant high pitched tolls.

I looked to Ophela, and when I saw the fear in her eyes, I knew what the alarm meant.

We were being called to the warfront.

...

I had mentally prepared myself for the chaos of the warfront. The people screaming. The injured being carted to healing tents. The piles of bodies.

But I had not prepared myself for the smell. The scent of death, rot and decay hung over the camp in an oppressive haze. It crawled up my nose and twisted the fear deeper inside of me, evoking an almost primal dread.

As we followed the General in hurried steps, men and women shoved swords and protective gear into our arms as we walked. We stopped when we reached the crest of a hill that looked down over the battle that waged below.

A slight sense of comfort washed over me when I saw Xiaden's face, as he spoke at the helm of the group with the General. He was dressed in thick armor, his wings on full display. His armor and sword were crusted with blood, his face covered in blotches of grime.

He looked like a God of death.

His eyes caught mine, and his face twisted. I looked away, embarrassed that I'd caused such a reaction from him. I hadn't talked to him since the night of the ball. But I'd hoped he didn't hold any of it against me. I shook my head, expelling the thoughts. I had bigger things to worry about right now.

The General yelled orders over the group, splitting us into sections to attack. I reached out my hand to grasp onto Ophela, but she was ushered away to the middle group while I stuck to the left.

My heart pounded in my chest, as I looked down to the expanse of the battle.

I blinked my eyes rapidly. None of it felt real. Like my mind couldn't register what I saw before me. Bodies clashing, blood spurting, shadows meeting walls of magik.

Before I knew it, I was marching forwards, sword in hand. The man next to me trembled, his armor clattering with the movement.

For a moment, it was only the sound of our footsteps and my heartbeat. And the next, it was the sound of metal hitting metal, screams crying out from either side. I looked to the man next to me, and he was no longer trembling. He had been shot with an arrow straight to his heart. Blood trickled from his mouth, his eyes wide, unblinking.

I dove behind the rubble of what must have once been a building, shielding myself from the onslaught of magik that the rest of the shadow benders fended off with thick walls of black.

The sound of the sword slicing through air rang in my ears and I moved my head just in time as my attacker's sword hit the rock where my neck had been seconds before.

Their figure twirled to face me, while the sharp sound of the metal against the stone rang through my head. The wildling came at me with fierce fervor, their sword coming down on me in repeated hard blows. I deflected each one, pain shooting up my arm at the effort. I could only see the glow of their eyes behind their purple hooded cloak, intense hate shining in them as they came at me again and again.

Without warning, my sword flew from my hand. I took a single panicked breath, before their sword plunged deep into my chest.

I glanced down, my eyes wide in shock, grasping at the torn fabric at where their blade pierced in to my flesh.

Pain I'd never felt burned through me, forcing me to my knees.

As the warrior withdrew their sword from me, I noticed the flesh colored paint smudging at their wrist, revealing the shadow markings beneath.

My mind twisted. Were they a wildling shadow bender? A traitor of their own Kingdom?

Searing pain blurred my vision. None of it would matter anymore. 

The attacker lifted their sword to deliver their final blow, their metal glistening in the light. Even then, the light still sang to me. It's song sad and somber, as if it didn't want to be part of the killing of its kin.

"Aila, move!" Xiaden's cry lifted above the sound of the raging battle.

In an instant the sword was gone, the warrior ripped to shreds by Xaiden's thick claws. 

I shrunk back,  my breaths shallow. I collapsed fully in to the dirt, my hands trembling at the open wound in my chest. I tried to apply pressure, to stop the blood, but my arms felt weak. The blood was warm against my cold hands, the feeling was almost comforting as it dripped down my front like a blanket, and the pain started to subside. 

My eyes became heavy. I was so tired. 

Then I saw him. Xiaden. His honey eyes locked on to mine, his face contorted with worry.

"Hold on, Aila." I could hear his voice, but it felt far away, muffled. 

As he scooped me into his arms, I felt nothing. No pain. No sensation as he cradled me in his grip. 

He shot us up into the sky, his wings beating faster and faster.

"Please, Aila. Stay awake."

I looked back up to him one last time, the way the sun shone against his face.

Beautiful, I thought, before I let my eyes close shut.

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