Leviathan’s Daughter: Chapters 16 and 17 Author: GoldenEagle Chapter Sixteen Persephone was on her way out of the city when the attack hit the Zaibach forces. To her left, about a mile away, a dazzling flash of white light burst through the pressing darkness. It arched in the air and made its way across the sky. Her eyes followed it, awed by the beauty of it. She was reminded of fireworks on the Fourth of July... The streak of light hit a hillside in the direction she was heading. She froze in a silent horror as she saw an enormous explosion and, in that light, burning Zaibach guymelefs. She went stiff almost immediately, her eyes going wide. 'Persephone!' The scream in her mind echoed with pain and childish terror. She clenched her teeth. Dilandau. Oh, God, she couldn't handle this. Immediately Persephone was on her feet, running in the opposite direction, heading towards where she had seen the missile launched... ********* "Lord Folken! We've been attacked!" One of the younger youths yelled out as his fellow warriors struggled to reach any survivors in the burning and melting guymelefs. "Lord Dilandau is down, sir. He's alive, but unconscious." "Get out of there!" Folken yelled in exasperation as he heard another explosion in the background. "But, sir... You told us to wait for Lord Persephone." Folken's blood went cold. "She's not there yet?" He asked, a slight bit of amazement and despair in his voice. "Why, no sir." The boy replied. "We haven't even heard from her yet." Folken stood from his seated place in front of data charts and radio equipment. His hands trembled as he gripped the side of the console in front of him, his sharp talons piercing the metal. He reached and changed frequencies quickly before he yelled out her name. "Persephone!" There was a slight pause in the transmission before she answered. "I'm so sorry, Folken. I didn't mean for it to end this way. I didn't mean to lie to you." Her voice was hushed, solemn, and confident. Folken gripped his hands tightly, his face going slack as he realized what she was saying. "Persephone!" He cried her name once again, desperately, but the transmission had already been terminated. He stumbled back into his chair, his hand covering his face, the only thing visible were his wide eyes. He sat there for a few seconds before he called for one of his servants. "Turen, prepare my guymelef for flight." He said, his face still paler than usual, his body still shaking. "Oh, gods," he whispered after the boy had gone to do his bidding. "Not now. Not yet." ******** Persephone tore the ear piece from her ear, tears running down her face, her sides aching from the mile sprint. She approached the machines that were launching the attacks steadily, her feet pounding on the ground and her breath in a strange pattern. A few of the soldiers noticed her coming. She heard them yell something undefinable among her panic, but she still ran at them. She remembered the exercises on the main Zaibach fortress. 'Calm your mind. Yes, now. Filter the emotion. Spread it through you. Use it as your strength.' She pushed her fear for Dilandau, his voiceless cry still in her mind, through her body as she stopped a few feet from the men in front of her. They were pulling swords out and approaching her, along with a few archers readying their bows from buildings above. She ignored the men's cries of battle as they came towards her. She kept her eyes closed, her breathing shallow. 'Call on the strength, master it. This is who you are. You are invincible.' She held her arms out to her side, spread, calmly, when the power devoured her. The pain erupted through Persephone's back and the men stopped in horror as they saw the creature before them. She felt her back burn slightly under the heat, but she had learned to master them so that it was usually not much worst than a sunburn. But still she felt that flame against her, and she willed herself up above the heads of the gawking onlookers. Grown men trembled in horror as they saw her, crimson hair tangling violently around her head, and behind her, like an artist's backdrop, wings of fire, their span forty feet from tip to tip. Feathers of flame and magma floated down, burning some of the onlookers eyes. Persephone's eyes snapped open and that fire rested there, too, flickering and burning. She twisted her wrists, using all her power to concentrate. A flame erupted beneath one of the soldier's feet and he screamed as it consumed him. The fire spread like a creature of flesh, too quickly to be natural. It was then that the archers remembered their bows as their comrades screamed and died below. Many of the arrows sent at her hit her fleshless wings, the fire there devouring them and leaving nothing but glowing ash. Yet, one arrow found its target and embedded itself in Persephone's side. An inhuman cry split her lips and, for a hopeful second, the surviving onlookers saw her faulter and begin to drop, her wings fading and flickering. But then she caught herself, her wings beating in the air frantically. She felt panic before the explosion, knowing she was losing control. And finally, the power snapped from her grasps and took control like a plague. She cried out as the flames engulfed her and everything below. ********** From the hills above, the forces of Zaibach were frozen in place by awe and horror. The flame had begun in the center of the city, and they could see the outline of what could only be described as wings aflame. They saw them flicker and fade a moment before a violent explosion rocked through the city. Screams could be heard as the ground cracked open beneath the people and a river of lava pushed its way through, making everything that was of the city as if it had never existed. The screams didn't last long, and the beautiful city melted before their eyes, the smell of burning flesh thick on the breeze. Chapter Seventeen "So, he's stable?" Folken asked distractively as he passed shaken soldiers by in the cover of the forest around Corinth's borders. He had just arrived, the flight only about an hour and half trip, and he could get little rational conversation out of most of the men. "Yes, Lord Folken. Lord Dilandau has few injuries. Mainly just a bump to the head. Not that it could do much more damage than what is already done..." Folken threw the young boy a disapproving look and the boy continued on nervously. "Most of our causalities came with the two air attacks." The man said quietly, noticing his leader's unstable mood. "And survivors?" He turned, his voice more rushed now, the slightest bit of emotion twitching across the pale face of Folken. "Have you sent anyone to the city to look for survivors?" The soldier he was talking to looked shocked as he stopped dead in his tracks. He gaped a few times before he answered. "Survivors? Sir, have you *seen* the city yet?" He asked, bewildered. Folken looked at him oddly. He could smell smoke and something much like sulfur, but surely... Surely it was just one of the local volcanoes acting up a bit. Folken felt a strange damp coldness enter his chest. He strode quickly forward, the young soldier having to jog to keep up with his long and hurried strides. "I swear, sir, we would have saved her if we knew! We lost her in battle. She'll be honored throughout the empire for the victory here, Zaibach's first battle." The boy's voice was panicked as Folken reached the top of the hill Persephone had stood just the night before. As he took in the town, he swayed backwards as if someone's fist had connected to his own flesh. He stumbled and almost fell, ending up having to kneel down to catch his mind and give his head time to stop spinning. The boy looked at him, not really sure of what he should do. Lord Folken was kneeled over, one foot behind him, the other set firmly on the ground. He put his head to his knee as he shook uncontrollably for a few seconds. Finally, the Zaibach commander stood, shakily, but strength still pushed from his body. There was a moment of awkward silence before the soldier finally found his voice, though it was barely heard above the burnt breeze. "We'd send out a search party to collect bodies, but..." These didn't seem to be the right words to be said to the ever increasingly intimidating Folken. "We would send out the guymelefs to look for her, but the magma hasn't cooled yet. Nothing would be accomplished besides piling up repair bills for melted guymelef legs." Folken rubbed his temples quietly, trying to regain his thoughts, despite the fact that they still seemed to elude him. He felt light headed and jet cold throughout, and he slightly wondered if the feeling would stay with him permanently. After a few moments of continued silence, Folken looked up at the nervous, black haired boy. "What's your name?" The question seemed to take the boy back a bit. "Uh- Sir, it's- Lord Folken, sir- I mean..." After a sigh was taken to control his trembling, the boy spoke. "Langer, sir." "Langer, is it?" Folken asked, mechanically speaking to the boy. "Couldn't you have sent the guymelefs out in flight mode to look for remains?" He mentally flinched as he referred to them as "remains". "No, sir." Langer had calmed considerably and was now standing tall, his shoulders stiff and his arms straight at his side. "We wouldn't have been able to bring them close enough to catch sight of anything. Our heat sensors also wouldn't work, for obvious reasons. Plus, we assumed that there wouldn't be any remains, Lord, sir." "Very well." Folken said, trying to hold back the shaking that was resurfacing over him again. He licked his dry lips before he gave out the next order. "Bring the men out, Langer. I'm holding you fully responsible for getting our troops headed in the direction of the fortress." The young man nodded, a little bit of an eager look in his eyes, and a bit of excitement crackling about his form, as he ran off to do his master's bidding. Folken gave one more, overly rushed glance over his shoulder. He turned his head back towards his men, trying to muster the strange pain that dove through him as best he could. He stepped back from his heart and watched as if an observer as it struggled under the weight of her blood. Finally, he shook himself free of his daze before letting his eyes swing back towards the still burning city. 'Goodbye, Persephone.' *********** The Mystic Moon hung straight above, its white companion and diamond subjects frozen and giving an eternal, silent applause in awe of it. The crackling growl of fire had faded somewhat, but there was still the sound of shifting and defeat as the flames and liquid fire continued to devour its surroundings. The heat was like an oven as it spiraled upwards. This was all taken in slowly and dimly by Persephone, her burnt hair spread out around her, her body twisted beneath her. She didn't have the strength to fight the pain that poured from her. She couldn't move and she contemplated if she would die from her burns or her seeping arrow wound first. She tried to decide numbly which she would prefer, but in the end, she couldn't decide. Both felt about the same to her. Her back arched painfully and uncontrollably, and she clenched her fists and teeth weakly as she tried to will away the battering pain. A taste much like lead filled her mouth and she coughed out as her body fell, exhausted from the convulsions riveting through her. A warm liquid streamed down the side of her face from her mouth and she realized, in a delirious amusement, that it was her own blood. The slight amusement was lost almost immediately, though, as another wave came, her back pressing upwards, and she spit up more blood. So, it would be the arrow, afterall. She felt as if this were her determined end, here among the ashes of the people she had slaughtered. She smiled a bitter, monstrous smile. Dilandau would be proud of her. It would all be okay, she told herself. She would fade here, laying on the one piece of land untouched by the stream of fire. But that was before she had felt him, not far away, but not close, either. She tried to move, tried to sit up, but couldn't quite do it. Suddenly she was terrified of her laying her, alone, dying... She calmed herself. No, he would come for her. He would always come for her... And yet, after a painful passing of suspenseful minutes, she felt a defeat in his mind. His thoughts whispered into her mind. 'Goodbye, Persephone.' She was too hot, too dehydrated to cry, but her face distorted into a sob. Her mind cried out in response to his. 'No! No! Don't leave me! Don't make me die, alone, with no one here! I'm sorry I broke the promise, just come back and I'll try to make it up. Please, don't leave me! Folken!' The cry emanated from her very being in a wave of guilt and despair. She breathed in deeply, only to choke on her own breath. She rolled over and coughed and gagged, a pool of her blood resting below her. Again, she spit up an immense amount of blood. She scowled through crimson lips and reached over with the last bit of strength she had, pulling out the arrow from her side. The pain hit her hard and wrenched her body into another convulsion, rendering her unconscious, her head resting in her own blood.