Page 10 of Scarlet Wars
And then...
I tried to move, but my limbs screamed in protest. Even breathing hurt. My eyes landed on the front door, still ajar.
My mind flickered back to the most excruciating moment of my life: the sight of the two people I loved most in the world, torn away from their lives. From me. My heart splintered, the agony so raw and consuming it defied words. It hurt so much, I wanted to tear my own heart from my chest, anything to stop the relentless, unbearable spiral of pain.
Don’t let it in. Not yet.
I had to push the devastation down, numb myself until I had a plan.
Forcing myself to sit up, I turned my head, looking around at the wreckage, barely recognizing the dining room, once filled with laughter and warmth. The back wall in front of me, usually decorated with family photos, now stood bare, save for the white marks left behind by years of hanging frames. The furniture lay shattered, reduced to splinters, and the room was littered with pieces of people, bits of flesh, eyeballs, blood.So much blood.
All because of my “eruption.” What else could I call that kind of translation?
The kind of total destruction.
The kind, triggered by horror.
They had been shot in front of my eyes. Killed right in front of me. With a fuckinghumangun.
My stomach twisted violently, my pulse thundered in my ears, and then my entire body went numb, paralyzed by an overwhelming surge of fear. No, not fear,panic.
Panic the pain would swallow me whole. I wouldn’t survive this. It would destroy me. I didn’t want to feel it.
I had watched as my parents were murdered by humans, and before I had even processed it, my power had erupted—raw and uncontrollable—exploding in every direction. I hadn’t realized what was happening until it was too late. It was like a bomb going off inside of me, inside the house, the force tearing through everything, ripping apart walls, furniture, and people.
Everyone and everything in the house—human military included—was blown apart. Pieces of them splattered across the room, indistinguishable from the wreckage of my once-familiar home. Flesh and bone were reduced to fragments, and blood soaked everything.
And my parents… Their bodies, the people who had stood in front of me, protecting me… They were gone. Not a trace left. Not a single piece of them to hold onto. The blast had obliterated them, their remains lost in the chaos I had unleashed.
What was even the last thing I’d said to them?
They were gone, and I was still here. I should’ve died with them. How the hell did I survive translating inside a bubble?
I could feel my mind wanting to shut down, to surrender to the void, to let me slip into oblivion. It would be so easy to let the numbness take over, to disappear into the darkness inside my head. But I couldn’t afford it. Not yet. I needed to move, to function, just for a little while longer.
One step at a time.
The US was bubbled in. Translating again would be a sure death sentence.
I’d have to get out the country.
The closest Collective outside the bubble was Kanata C, Canada. It was my best shot at refuge. But they were already on the lookout for fleeing magi. And a dozen dead soldiers? Thatwould catch up to me fast. They’d hunt me down like a fox on a chicken farm.
Whatever I wanted to do next, I didn’t have much time to do it.
Pain.
It slammed into me like a tidal wave, knocking the air out of my lungs. My chest heaved, but there was no oxygen. My heart thudded painfully, and the agony was so overwhelming I wanted it to stop.
I wanted todie.
Maybe I could. I could just translate one more time, right here, right now. The bubble was still there; I wouldn’t survive it a second time. I could be with them.
All I’d have to do was focus on my energy.
Just one more time. It would hurt less. My chest tightened, my throat closing as if there was no air left in the world.
No.
