27 | When Death Encounters Life

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27 | WHEN DEATH ENCOUNTERS LIFE

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27 | WHEN DEATH ENCOUNTERS LIFE

Her vision is set ablaze, boiling air whipping her hair around her face, having the strands set on fire.

    She's too much in pain to feel blisters forming on her skin and flames bulldozing through her flesh, gnawing at her bones.

     A blow hits her from the back from when she impacts the ground.

    And the weight of the gryphon crushes her senseless.

    Dots line her dying vision, cocooning it in shadow and nothingness.

    Her system soon shuts.

・•*.° ➵ °.*•・

    She doesn't expect to wake to daylight again, but ironically, she does.

    Not only that, an odd, golden flare glimmers and paints itself on the white washed sky, against her retina.

    Then, a cool spring breeze nips her nose and chee-

    Hold it, wasn't it summer in Narnia?

    Unless- has she returned? Returned to where she really belongs?

    Then again, if that is so, why is she out in the open?

    She sits up, a fuzziness warping her sight monetarily as her blood finds difficulty in forcing it's way to her head.

    Everything stands still before her - the chirps of birds and the rustles of leaves are no more.

    A thick curtain of smoke drapes the air.

    The sky is now dark, populated by a hoard of thunderstorm-carrying greys; as if someone had the fluffy cotton balls of cloud washed with murky water.

    Odd.

    She is positive weather doesn't change this abruptly.

    "But I so vividly recall-" she trails off, the last snippets of her memories rolling like an old tape in her head.

    Shouldn't she be disfigured beyond recognition by burns? Shouldn't her blood drain from her vessels by the morning? Shouldn't she be fractured beyond rescue? Shouldn't she be- dead?

    All of this makes utter nonsense.

    A cackle of thunder sounds, and at the same moment, a sizzling below her figure is set off. Smoke smoulders, and weaved between the dark particles is a scent of decay.

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