Resurrection {NaNoWriMo}

Chapter 24

This is the last chapter of Resurrection, and with it marks the end of this book, the end of this month. I would just like to thank everyone who supported me through this journey, and I hope that you all find the same joy in this book that I have.

They were warriors preparing for war.

They were all decorated with armor across their chests and backs. Their clothes beneath the shining metal were fashioned out of black long leather. Both women and men, any one with long hair, had it pulled back or firmly braided. Even Elder Raygen, whose hair never seemed to remain in place, always rebellious in nature, was untypically pristine. On the elders' armor was ornate markings; the markings of the gods and the powerful and mighty. They were fierce protectors, overseeing the final battle of their people.

Each one passed from person to person, group to group, checking every individual in Community. They helped adjust armor and infused magyk to metal, gifting people with lethal weapons. They made sure no soul went unnoticed or unprotected in their midst, and when they helped all that they could, they called a private meeting where they would discuss battle strategies with the designated chiefs of battle groups. Alias was invited to attend, but he lied back, wanting to bask in his few moments he had left to be home, for the peace that came with your kind not desiring to kill you where you stood.

He would not be in any battle group or be led by any man. It had been decided with his newfound abilities that he would be an independent force, seeking out the final solution, one that he was not entirely sure of himself. He had gotten wisps of ideas from the presence of the god, from Acacia's essence, but the little pieces he was placing together was not enough for him to understand the large task that had been placed on his shoulders, one he felt pound within the cavity of his chest.

He looked out at the people in the room. They had moved from meeting hall to the grand house of the elders'; the one he had been prisoner in for so long. It was a place where he had nearly gone mad, but it had become a safe haven for his people. It was equipped with all their necessary weapons and had enough rooms to hold everyone for the time being. There was enough food to serve all of Community and then some, and people ate what they could, trying to gather what strength they could before it was called upon them to use every ounce of it they held within their bodies.

The children would remain within the indestructible house; what few there were. He could count on both hands the number of children inside of Community, the oldest being barely eleven, and the youngest being four. They were all too little, too weak and untrained to fight in the battle. No matter how much the adolescent one claimed otherwise. One of them was the little boy with black curly hair who Acacia had healed.

He could recall how on that day it had sickened him to watch her perform something so wonderful and miraculous. Now he yearned for nothing more than to see her beauty and wondrous creation. It was that desire that led him down the hall and to the room where the children played, and would remain with one adult until the war ceased, in whatever way it ended.

The halls were as dark as he remembered, still just as smothering, but in his heart a bright light flared and would never extinguish, and with renewed strength and energy, he navigated the hallways and corridors he had come to memorize in his time in the elders' home.

He stopped outside the room. He listened to the children's voices rise from outside of the room, stretching to reach his ears. Their voices danced, their laughs bright as they penetrated something deep within him. Surprisingly, they did not revolt them as they once had, but they made him feel content, gave him a temporary respite from the mounting trouble surrounding him.