A Heart in Flames #2 (Howl's Moving Castle fanfiction)

Chapter 38: Flameheart

From every corner of Kingsbury, people stared in awe at the pair falling from the height of the only tower left standing. It seemed so peaceful at first, like free falling, a final attempt to escape this life. Black and blonde hair swirled together, gravity pulling them harshly and without remorse straight to the ground. From every corner, people watched.

The rain slowed as they plummeted to the stone courtyard, and the sky erupted in one final roar before it stopped altogether.

Magicians transported to the scene, many not daring to take a step closer to the victims. The humans appeared from the shadows, though there was no need for more bloodshed. The war had been fought and finally won. Among the dozens upon dozens of deceased magicians, the living focused on their former leader and the witch girl who hardly had a title as prestigious as Royal Sorceress.

"That's Martha." Lona whispered. She fell to the ground, her knees tightening from witnessing the quick drop. She hardly knew the girl, only that she had saved them before the battle began. She could have just been a random fatality, but part of Lona knew this girl. Part of her wished she had the time to know more.

Maybe she wouldn't have felt torn between feeling grateful for her final act of bravery or saddened by her sacrifice.

Beth, Mari, and Aria stood frozen, glued to the immobile Royal Sorceress. A breathless, lifeless mortal who couldn't escape death, her invincible facade shattered and rendered her as vulnerable as those she tormented. It was hard to believe what they saw, something that had seemed so unattainable. Yet it was a certainty - Madame Suliman had finally fallen.

Markl and Heen pushed through the crowd in a hurry. It didn't matter whether they rushed by good magicians or Suliman's army. The worry that flooded his mind clouded any other thought, any other concern around him. Markl had tears in his eyes the moment he recognized the two women crashing to the ground at full speed. He didn't want what he knew to be true to actually be true.

"Move!" Markl's voice was high-pitched, something he had started to grow out of recently. He pushed himself to the end of the circle that surrounded the victims, everyone keeping a few yards' distance away. Markl broke through the barrier to see it with his own eyes.

Heen whimpered softly. He recognized their scents.

On the other side, Markl saw Gwenda and they both rushed forward.

"Martha!" Gwenda fell to her knees and Calcifer stood behind her, keeping guard. Martha's eyes fluttered, but she resisted opening them. A red line trickled from her mouth down her cheek, dripping on the pavement like a broken pipe. Every bone in her body felt like shards of glass, scattered and fragmented. Every breath pierced her lungs, knowing she could not fill them fully.

She could not ease the pain; Suliman's fate was a blessing compared to this.

"Aunt Martha?" She forced her eyes open at the sweet sound. Aunt. Had he ever called her that before? It was a lullaby, a soothing cry to her soul. She wanted to extend what little time they had left, but even magic couldn't save her now.

She tilted her head up, suffering through the torturous movement, so she could look into his bright eyes. Martha managed the faintest of smiles. "Hey kid."

Gwenda removed her jacket and ripped the sleeves apart, trying to form tourniquets around her injuries. "It's fine. We're going to get help. We're going to fix you."

Martha coughed red, a disturbing and pitiful sprinkle of blood dotting the air and staining the stone beneath her. Every breath, every cough, every movement - Martha lay on the ground, comforted by the lifeless body next to her. For some reason, she found an odd sense of contentment listening to Suliman's desperate cries for help. Maybe she cried knowing that she was finally alone, finally vulnerable - finally overcome.