The Makers of Destiny: Monarchy

Chapter Seventeen: Unfair

Blinding light filled Lillian's vision and heat seared her bare arms and legs. A great forced rushed from the burning house and threw her backward - the ground, oh no, where was the ground? There were air and heat beneath her feet, but no solid floor. Up, down, which way was which, who even knows anymore? Ouch. Oh crap. There was the ground, the concrete of the sidewalk scraping her skin. Ow. That was going to leave a mark.

Lillian tried to scramble to her feet but listed to her right instead, feet giving out beneath her. Green and yellow lights danced in front of her eyes as she tried to blink the afterimage of the explosion away. Her arms and legs stung but when she looked down, there were no horrific burns as she had feared, just some light scrapes from her fall. That was good.

Something grabbed her shoulder and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Oh my god!" she yelped, then coughed. The freaking dust.

"It's just me," Cheyenne's ragged voice answered.

Her blonde hair was tangled and her dress was ripped, but she didn't seem injured either. Her necklace was glowing though, a dizzy blend of colors, and Lillian felt the scrapes on her arms and legs begin to heal. One day Lillian's going to have to ask Cheyenne why her enchantments sometimes make her want to throw up and sometimes do surprisingly nice stuff like healing her cuts.

"Oh wow, thanks," she said. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Cheyenne said breathlessly. "Where's Christopher?"

"I'm okay too." He emerged from the side. There was dirt on his shirt, but he was clearly otherwise unhurt.

"Yeah, no one is worried about me. Of course." Ameria skipped into the scene. Her glasses were clutched tightly in one hand, seemingly shielded during the explosion as to protect it. Her pale silver-blue eyes met Lillian's for all of a second before she shoved the glasses back on.

Lillian glanced around. Ashes fluttered around them. People were coming out of their doors or peeking through their window blinds to see what had happened.

"We're really lucky no one got hurt," she said.

Cheyenne winced. "I don't think we can say the same for the people inside the house."

"Oh my god, I nearly forgot, Marci!" Lillian yelled, swiveling to turn the house. Oh no, oh no, no, no, no, no.

The house was still standing. Partly. The top half of the house was a charred black with gaping holes visible. A crowd of people was around the house. Some stood by cautiously as if whatever bad luck had landed upon the Romano family was contagious and they would catch it if they got too close. Some were already darting toward the house, trying to see if anyone could be rescued, while others yelled at them to not be stupid.

In the distance, sirens were ringing.

"Are you kids alright?"

An old woman with curly gray hair and a shawl wrapped tightly around her finger approached. No wonder, with their disheveled looks.

"We're all okay, Mrs. Lopez," Ameria answered. Cheyenne and Christopher awkwardly shifted backward as if they had never seen another human being before. Lillian was too busy looking at Marci's house.

"C'mon, let's go closer," she insisted.

The police had arrived and a man had stumbled out of the house. Lillian recognized him as Marci's dad. But when she tried to rush forward, a hand ensnared her wrist.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

Lillian looked down to see a hand adorned with a ring bearing a fat ruby on the ring finger grasping her arm.