Her tent was warm and cozy, but it felt empty. She could hear the distant screams of war, even though she was a mile away. She didn’t care; it was as if she were physically grounded, trapped inside her tent. So she stayed there, warm yet terrified. She regretted what she had said to her brother, Redemption. He was probably furious with her now. Her visions were not always the truth; they could only show her what might happen. She couldn’t be blamed for trying to warn them. The battle was waning, and their legion was buckling, threatening to crumble. So she remained curled up, hidden from the chaos in her cozy tent.
Hours later, when the soldiers returned, she set out to find her brother and apologize. Maybe he would forgive her. She looked through the mass of soldiers, asking around and scanning the crowd. Anxiety and fear filled her throat. “Maybe he is with the injured,” she mumbled to herself. He wasn’t there, so she headed to his group of commanders and his cadre. Some didn’t know where he was, but when she asked the others, they offered no response. Panic surged through her as she flew as fast as her wings would take her to the field of bodies, both white and black. She scanned the gruesome scene from above, swooping down as low as she could. She searched for hours until she found what she wished she hadn’t.
Surrounded by a pile of icewings lay Redemption, his eyes lifeless as he stared up at the sky, no longer able to fly. His throat was ripped out, his wings shredded, and deep gashes marred his sides. She screamed and dove toward him, crashing about thirty feet away before running to him and stopping just five feet away. Overwhelmed with grief, she sobbed uncontrollably. “I’m sorry,” she cried. “I-I’m s-s-o sor-ry, b-brother.” She sat there for an hour and then curled up beside her deceased brother, staying there for as long as she could manage.
Eventually, Damond found her—she didn’t know how and didn’t care. He gently dragged her back but treated her with care. She felt paralyzed; she couldn’t and wouldn’t do anything. She felt nothing. She heard nothing. She was nothing. He bathed her, washing his blood from her scales, then brought her to the tent. He made sure she ate, although she couldn’t, and ensured she slept, but she couldn’t. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his unforgiving face looking at her with disgust.
Hurray, I finally finished and found motivation to do it!! I haven't found motivation to do much else anyway ¯_(⊙_ʖ⊙)_/¯
Hope to see you soon <]
We’ll miss you, friend 🥹🫶