My head is a mess.
I can't breathe, can't see properly. Everything around me is spinning. I can hear different voices and sounds but they all blur into a huge amalgamated, indistinct noise. Dirt and soot make me splutter, choking as ashes fill my lungs. My vision's getting worse. Dizzying patterns and spots float and twirl in front of my eyes. I'm panting. Struggling to gasp for those precious gulps of oxygen. My head is pounding and my heart working overtime. I can feel myself slowly drifting into the subconscious.
No! I can't die yet. I have to make sure they're alright. The thin layer of white dust slides off me like a shroud as I slowly force my legs to stand. The cramped muscles and joints try to refuse to support my weight once more. It hurts everywhere. Sharp needle-like pain stabs at me while a dull, throbbing pain persists in the background. How long has it been? A day, a month? It's hard to tell when I can barely stay awake, let alone think straight. My last vague recollection is that burning, acrid smell in the air followed by a deafening bang. From there on wards, my minds draws a blank.
I chuckled darkly at the hilarity of my current predicament. Me, an eighteen year old girl that's supposed to be barely out of high school is getting bombed by the government forces? Upon hearing that, the past me would have laughed until their sides hurt. I shook my head, wincing at the pain it caused. Well, my inappropriate sense of humour isn't going to help me any. Time to get moving. I took a tentative step forward and tried to summon my wings. But all I got in response was a white-hot flare of agony at my shoulders and ribs. Perhaps it wasn't a good idea to turn just yet. Sighing, I realised that I would only be able to walk. Time to move those legs...
It wasn't long before I reached the place that I once called home. Grief washed over me in waves when I had to acknowledge the fact that this ruinous wreck was all that was left of its former glory. Nothing was salvageable. Seeing this was devastating, but I cannot linger no longer. My friends were still in danger. I had to shift. Deep breath in... and out.
I was no longer a clumsy, blundering human, but a feather-light bird which could perform complex aerobatic skills in fluid motions. Not that I would be anytime soon, I noted dryly. I hovered for a little while, hoping to allow my wing muscles to get fully accustomed to flying, but in vain. At the moment, I had as much elegance as a newly fledged juvenile. My only saving grace were my neatly preened, obsidian feathers. Seemingly unaffected by my messy visage as a human. All in all, not as much improvement as I would have liked. Alas, I had run out of options and this was the best it could get. I took off. My gaze sharpened, focusing my eyes to scour the ground for any sight of a vague humanoid figure. Some time, and even more wing-beats, later, there was still no sign of anyone in the vicinity. Where are they? I thought, frustrated. They couldn't all have somehow disappeared!
"Hemlock?"
That voice was so familiar. Who was it though? Damn it, my memory must be getting worse.
"Hemlock?"
There it was again! Follow the sound, Hemlock... it will lead you to them, I told myself. I swooped in low as the wind ruffled my feathers. A blonde girl with blue eyes. I wracked my brain for answers. Must be Julie, right?
Julie is an old friend of mine. She was the one that kept me half-way sane through times where I nearly lost myself. She was a Celestial. A Celestial was a being that... evolved from the human race. In many ways, they were very much like the sorcerers and wizards of the old. Both possessed magic and could refine their art into whatever benefited them the most. But unlike the selfish necromancers and warlords, Celestials as a race, was generally an extremely kind and gentle society. They were peacemakers and healers, priests and philanthropists. This, I suppose, was part of the reason why Julie was such a sweet and caring girl. She may have lacked in the "power" department, but her ability to calm and soothe her patients (She was a healer) definitely made up for it.
I swiftly closed in as my suspicions were confirmed.
"Julie!" I called out. Or at least, I tried to. Still in raven form, my elated yell was transformed into a strangled caw. I found her, I found her!
A/N: Thanks for checking out my story! This book is dedicated to FantasticallyBookish. Thanks for helping me out all this time. This is also available on Archive of our own. If you like this story so far, please leave a vote or comment if you find any mistakes or simply want to say hi or have any ideas.
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Hemlock
FantasyWhat is my true name? Even my sister would not be able to answer that question. But is you simply asked what my name was... The answer is obvious. Clear as day: My name is Hemlock. Who am I? I hear you ask. I am a girl at the mere age of eighteen. ...