But it wasn’t over.
One second, I had closed my eyes, accepting the water into my lungs; the next, I was gasping in mouthfuls of air and smoke. I wasn’t sure how long I was unconscious, but the sun resting high in the sky burned with the strength of midday.
Everything was fuzzy, as if I was still underwater. Pain tore through my body as I managed to prop myself on my knee’s. Memories from the night before rushed to my head in fragments, diving into the fogginess clouding my brain. All I could think about for several minutes was how dry my throat was.
Swallowing what little spit my body produced, I pushed myself onto my feet, wobbling across the sandy lake shore. I didn’t realize I was searching for Gajeel in the sand until the horror of my situation clawed at my chest. He was gone-probably digesting in a dragon’s gullet at that very moment. I forced myself not to think about it then and there, I wouldn’t survive the terrible heartache it brought.
The village was reduced to crumbling piles of charred wood and ash that billowed white smoke in spirals. That too was eventually gone as I moved further into the disaster. My thoughts drifted to yesterday morning, it had started so normally and now, all the people I had seen every day were gone. Leon. Madam Gurdurt. Madam McEnery and the littles-who fled to the woods! They must have survived.
At least I prayed they did.
Frantically, I pushed my trembling legs as fast as they could carry me. The rest of the village was in shambles, not a single building was spared from the inferno. Dragon attacks were rare. You were more likely to be killed by a hoard of Goblins than a dragon, especially in the south. Even more rare than one dragon was two. It just didn’t seem possible.
No. It was possible if they were provoked, but not feasible. Who, or what had drawn them to Wilkreth?
I refused to look at anything but the path ahead of me as I climbed through the rubble. Just from passing through the once homely streets I knew that almost no one had survived. Bodies were strewn throughout the destruction, crushed and charred to a crisp. My heart shattered at the thought. The villagers had never been kind to me, most of them anyway, but it still stung.
No, I told myself. I won’t mourn for them. I must find my family.
If they were gone-If the dragons had killed them too-It would have been my fault. I should have stayed with them-died with them.
Maybe they’re alright, I tried to calm myself as I passed the bakery and turned into the graveyard. That part of the village was the same. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and death, the graveyard was overwhelmingly . . . alive.
The voices chittered with excitement, as if the freshly departed souls were reuniting with their ancestors. I could have sworn I heard several voices that were chillingly similar to voices I’d heard flittingly before. in the market, or around the square. I could feel the increased number of souls withing the air, but shrugged it off as just knowing the death toll was high.
I rushed past the tombstones and up the hill, nearly crying in relief. There stood the orphanage, completely untouched. Some people were gathered around the building, huddled together under blankets, their faces blank and dazed. I recognized one person perched on the steps, holding a cup of steaming liquid.
Madam Gurdurt was curled in on herself, staring blankly at a patch of weeds in front of her. Her body was rigid, like she was about to start lecturing people for not jumping to rebuild the village. Her face told me everything I needed to know, even she had no idea how this had happened. And it bothered her.
When she saw me cresting the hill, she was surprised to say the least. Her eyes flicked over my trembling form a few times, she even rubbed them to make sure i was really there. As I came to stand in front of her, she pulled her cloak off and strew it across my shoulders.
“Madam Gurdurt?” I heaved.
“Shh,” Her voice was softer in that moment than I had ever heard before. She tucked the heavy cloak around me and I melted into its warmth.
“The Littles, Madam McEnery-they’re out in the woods. We have to look for them,” I met her gaze, trying with all my might not to look at the bulging warts on her face.
A forlorn shadow fell across her eyes and my heart began to splutter. “They’re not-”
“They are inside,” She gestured for me to go inside.
Without hesitation, I blew past her. Up the stairs, and threw myself against the door with so much force my feet tangled in the cloak and my face met the floor.
“Tarry!” Tiny voices shrieked with delight. I could hear the padding of tiny feet as they darted across the reed carpet.
No sooner had I managed to rise on my knees was I encumbered with several pairs of tiny arms. I released a shuddering gasp as the Littles tackled me onto my back.
Carlisle, Freda, Wren, and Hans piled on top of me, their round faces beaming with happiness. As happy as I was to see them safe and sound, I still noticed one face was missing.
“Where’s Mercy?” I beamed.
Silence.
“Where’s Mercy?” This time my voice was much harsher.
Freda whimpered and stumbled back, grabbing for Carlisle’s arm. Wren and Hans seemed equally perturbed at my outburst, because they too hid behind Carlisle. He clearly wasn’t too keen on being used as a human shield but none-the-less, put on a brave face and pointed towards the common room.
With tightened fists, I jumped to my feet and charged into the common room. Mercy’s tiny body, pale and blue in the face, wrapped in a plethora of blankets punched me in the gut. A scream ripped from my throat, so horrifying and shrill it could of shattered glass, just as it shattered my own heart.
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