The 100 Imagines💯

Illian--- I'm Not Fire-Proof!💙

You gave in to the persuasiveness of the key. Of what it possesed. You'd killed your only parent, your dear father when he refused the chip. Your sister, though, got away somewhere but vowed never to come back. Ever.
You'd ruined everything all because of your selfishness. You're now left without a family. No one except your neighbor who is in the same predicament.

Killed his brother, his mother... His only family.
You couldn't sleep for the first week after the key had been destroyed, after the City of Light had been destroyed.
You wish you could go back. Even if you'd never see your sister again, at least there you didn't feel any pain. Any guilt.

The first day from coming back, you'd decided to bury your father along near the back stream and the tulips he'd grown and had now wilted without his care.
As you shoveled dirt onto his bagged body, tears ran down your cheeks, sweat poured from your forehead, and your neighbor screamed in the distance. He sat with his dead mother in his arms and just let it all out. All his frustrations, guilt, and above all: Anger.

You'd wished you could have done the same, but screaming can't take away what you'd done. Nothing can.

Every day after that you'd sit by his stone and retell stories he'd told you as a child, or just talk about your day. As boring as they are nowadays.
You'd even prepare his favorite dish of lamb and whiskey, and pour some of the drink on the ground for him to enjoy. Call it a waste if you will.

On the third day, Illian had begun his own burial, you watched from your yard as he cried and carefully dug two graves.

Now, you sit alone with your fathers old journal in your lap, reading through every page three times, making sure to understand every detail carefully.

You smile down to the pages and take a sip of your tea when you hear the rustling of metal and wheels.

You tuck the book away gently and step over to the door and step outside into the windy chilled air, curiously peeking over to Illian whom is tugging a wagon of gasses and oils along his dirt road driveway, nearing the forest.

"Illian." You call, catching his eyes. He drops the wagon and walks up to greet you with a frown and red puffy eyes.

"What're you doing with those?" You wonder. Gazing behind him to the small wagon. That's a lot of gas, it almost appears as if he wants to destroy something.

"Heading to Arkadia. To avenge my mother, my brother." He says, his jaw ticking angrily.

"You're going to kill them?" You whisper.

"No. Destroy their tech. It made me destroy what I love. It won't be able to do that to anyone else." He reassures.

"Don't you think that's going a little far? I mean, I get it and all.... But," you stop yourself from rambling.

"Are you saying you don't want to avenge your father?" He furrows his eyes.

"Of course not, Illian." You snap.

"Then help me get that wagon through the forest." He states and heads back down toward the forest's edge, and waits for you.

You head back inside, kiss your fathers journal, grab your dagger and head out to meet him.

"Let's get this over with." You sigh and lift the wagon with him.

Its gets warmer as you both leave Azgeda and enter the warmth of Trikru forest.
The sun peaks through the branches of the trees.

"I haven't been out here since-" you start

"I know." He cuts you off glumly.

The last time you were out here was when you were sent to go buy bread at the market in town, when you took the key, but before that you were hunting with your dad and sister. Smiling and laughing if one were to scare the kill.