Lei stood in front of the large plate-glass windows on the top floor of the high rise apartment building and stared out at the burning city below, surveying the damage quietly. She imagined the battle going on in the streets must have been loud and bloody. Violence and desperation must have been prevalent as humans fought it out with angry Nagruvians. The cries of the dying and the stench of the dead must have been virtually unbearable as they reached a fever pitch. Yes, the scene outside must have been quite dreadful. But inside this beautiful penthouse, it was perfectly silent. None of those terrible indications of danger penetrated the walls of this apartment except the sirens. But the sirens could be heard anywhere in the city, so they didn�t count. If not for those sirens, the only thing out of the ordinary would have been the flames dancing downtown and the smoke obscuring the rising sun. Anyone half asleep could have easily mistook the red glow that illuminated the living room ominously as the red from the morning sun and have simply taken the sirens as an inappropriately timed test and headed back to bed. Which is exactly why the owners of the penthouse lay dead on the floor, the wife�s neck twisted at an odd angle, the husband�s heart discard on the floor next to him as blood from his chest stained the formerly immaculate white carpet.

A shame, really. That such a beautiful house had to be defiled like this and a perfectly nice couple prematurely killed. Lei had tried to get them to leave. The Nagruvians had not yet reached this building, but that didn�t mean they weren�t coming. There was danger and they had to escape! But they�d been so unreasonable. Simply because she shattered their glass table when she�d stepped from the portal leading into Enchantment, they�d refused to listen and had attacked her. She�d had no choice. They never even noticed the fire downtown.

She shook her head sadly and turned from the window. At least she�d been able to borrow some clothes to help her better fit in to the crowd. She couldn�t very well carry out any of Blythe�s instructions if she kept turning heads everywhere she went. She crossed the room to the front door, pausing to look at herself in the mirror by the entrance. In place of the black patent leather dress she�d been wearing, she now wore a pair of cuffed khaki mid-thigh length shorts and a simple black graphic t-shirt. She�d traded her boots for flats. Satisfied, she pulled open the door and strolled down the hall towards the stairs.



Lain glanced around intrigued. Wesla was barking orders like a veteran military superior and they�d just come to an abrupt standstill. As interesting as Wesla�s sudden burst of self-confidence was (she�d file the memory away for later interrogation), Lain just couldn�t leave the latter event alone. She turned, smirking slightly as she headed towards the open portion of the truck.

�Lain, no!� Sylvia yelled, trying to grab her friend, but Lain moved out of her reach just in time. �Stay in the vehicle!� she called after the black-haired girl. �We�ll be moving in a minute.�

Lain just grinned. �Then make sure you guys don�t leave without me,� she replied and hopped from the vehicle jogging around the side to catch a good look at the situation. At least that more boy who�d been clinging to the truck screaming for dear life could get in now. From the hurried movement in the truck, and the grunts as two pairs of feet hit the ground, Lain guessed Sylvia had followed with Austin at her heels. Probably to drag her back into the vehicle.

�Lain, get back in he�� Lain had been right, of course, but the two stopped in their tracks as soon as they saw the sight that Lain was looking at. The bridge on their side was gone. Nothing but jagged concrete with some metal wires poking out remained. Absentmindedly, Sylvia cursed. Upon realizing that 'those three crazy people,� as they'd been affectionately dubbed, hadn�t been killed by the rogue intruders, several more people piled out of the truck to see what had struck the threesome with silence and all that rose from the crowd was a collective gasp.

�What the hell caused this?� a young man asked, his mouth and eyes wide in shock as people from their sister vehicle began climbing out to scope out the situation as well. Their reaction was similar as the two groups began to mingle.

An old, bald man in footie pajamas seemed eager to answer. �It was those damn machines. I tell ya, the army isn�t doing a damn thing even with all the funding they get. If they let those robots get over here and blow up a bridge, why the hell are they even out here, pretending that they're doing something?� He paused for a breath and seemed all too ready to continue, but Lain interrupted him.

�The robots didn�t this,� she said, stepping forward cautiously to the edge and peering over the edge. �They don�t have that kind of power.� The man looked insulted and prepared to jump on the ignorant, delinquent child talking back to him but was interrupted again, by another girl.

�Wait!� a voice called. �Don�t leave me! Stop!� The group turned to see a college-aged girl sprinting towards them. As she approached, she slowed to a stop and looked at them confused. �Why aren�t we leaving?�

�You don�t have to worry about that,� Sylvia piped up, indicating the missing bridge. �We won�t be going anywhere for a while.�

Lei frowned. �Serious? There�s gotta be another way out of the city.�

Lain nodded gravely. �The soldiers are trying to figure it out, but the nearest bridge is about fifteen miles north and would require us to head right back into the heart of the city to access it. Unless, of course, they cut through the grass.� Several people paused as if the thought of driving on the grass had either not occurred them or was positively out of the question. How dare that ungrateful youth suggest flattening their beautiful, lush, green grass beneath the disgusting, muddy wheels of an army vehicle! Then they looked at each other in horror, realizing at the same time that the soldiers in charge of the vehicle were other young upstarts such as her, who also had no appreciation for the grass! Lain noticed this and shook her head. Leave it to at least one person to be more worried about the grass than the fact that he�s stuck in a city with rampaging murderers running around. For their benefit, she added. �But they probably won�t do that. The thought won�t even occur to them, I�m sure.� They seemed to relax and she turned back to face the wreckage.

�Hell,� she thought. �Screw the grass, if I was driving, we�d be hauling bum bum to the bridge, taking whatever route will get us there faster. Grass or not.� Someone from the back of the group voiced a similar thought and immediately an argument broke out among the group�s members.

�Nevermind the impending doom headed our way, just as long as we get another argument in before we die,� Sylvia whispered, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms crossly. She remained like this a minute or two before her aggravation outstripped her patience and she loudly told everyone to shut up because �as of right now, neither truck is moving across the pavement much less rolling over the grass.�

�Amen to that,� Lain whispered.

Lei glanced around the group, however, and mentally shook her head. These people had no idea what kind of trouble was headed their way. On her way here she�d seen plenty of Nagruvians making their way slowly but surely in this direction. And plenty had seen her. Of course, they�d refrained from attacking once they�d recognized her, but still. She almost felt sorry for them, especially the old man in footie pajamas. As cranky as he was, she couldn�t help but think his pajamas made him quite adorable. It�d be a shame to see his clothes stained with red.

Hearing bits and pieces of the conversation outside, Wesla grew nervous as the soldiers continued staring at him. His confidence caved completely in when one of them got up in his face and asked professionally, "Sir, why don't you sit down and let us do our job?" Gripping his bat tightly, which was now covered in the dried blood of Nagruvians, he could do nothing but back down.

He decided it might be best to venture a peek outside, and his head was barely through the door of the vehicle when his eyes wandered over the small group of people looking out over the wrecked bridge. There was nothing amiss at first, he thought, but one figure in the crowd seemed to tug at his attention more than the others. It was definitely a woman, but he couldn't figure out what was so different about her. Silly Wesla, there were more pressing matters to deal with than some Enchantment dweller--at the thought, his body froze cold in its place.

A name came out beneath his breath, too quiet for anyone around him to hear, "Lei." She wasn't an Enchantment dweller, not in the slightest. They'd never spoken of course. He knew her in the way a student would hear about his peers, and then would worry about them no more. Unfortunately, in this instance she was cause enough for pause, as he was sure she'd recognize him even without his leader attire.

"Is she here to kill me? Did Blythe already find out I killed those Nagruvians?" His mind went frantic again, the faces of the hybrid soldiers in question only serving to intensify his fears. It didn't look like she was searching for him, after all she was wearing civilian clothes as well. Rubbing the sweat from his brow, the adrenaline began to subside as he assured himself with facts, "Nah, that's just crazy. There's no way they could know I killed those Nagruvians already. Keep your cool, her being here could be a good thing--I hope."

Wesla was now pulling himself the rest of the way through the door, grunting a little with the short drop to the ground. A twinge of pain shot through his leg, but it was different from before. With a quick glance to the appendage in question, he saw that he was right to trust the doctor to patch him up. It would heal nicely, so long as he didn't do anything stupid to injure it again. There was a dull pounding in his skull that stayed as a reminder of the forceful encounter with the light post, but it too was no reason for concern.

Shifting the metal bat cautiously behind the back of his leg to hide the letters that told of his origins, Wesla limped up towards the small group of civilians plus one Lei. As the full destruction came into view, he failed to stifle the urge to whistle with surprise, jumping when a few civilians turned on him with reproachful glares, "Heh, sorry--I'm just surprised anything could do this." It was true that his attitude was one of genuine shock, relatively sure the Nagruvians were incapable of damage on this great a level. At any rate, it stopped the ridiculous argument they'd been having only moments ago.

He decided against moving up alongside Lain as he finally spotted her, now faced with the trouble of putting on a show for both the citizens and Lei. The danger of the situation also drove him to offer his opinion, "I don't know about you all, but I'd rather be in the vehicle when those beasts come shooting, exploding, swinging, or whatever else they want to do." While he could never hope to read Lei's mind, he was also aware that the Nagruvians would soon be on their way. He'd seen how they fought on Nagru, and it wasn't pretty. Hell, he'd been watching how they fought here, and that wasn't any less frightening.

�Oh you�re here, and you brought a guest.� Blythe warmly regarded the man who had just knocked on his door; taking a moment to size up his company in several lengthy suggestive glances. The first visitor was an attractive man, with near flawless olive skin, dark eyes and chocolate brown crew cut hair. Blythe had always insisted that he be more adventurous in the way he styled his hair but he wasn�t going to push the subject. All and all the scribe was the type to turn heads whether catching the glance of attentive bystanders or entrancing them in his bottomless stare, once he had someone�s eye it was up to him to release them. No doubt those eyes had been what had brought his other caller, a young man of comparatively plain appearance, along for the ride. Where the scribe responded to Blythe�s playful greeting with a withering look, the other one stared blankly forward, breathing so lightly as to hardly be noticed at all. It wasn�t going to work though; he was too vital of a participant in tonight�s meeting to get by unnoticed.

�If you�re done drooling, will you let us inside?�

�Of course, where are my manners?� Blythe smiled as he retreated back into his apartment leaving the door open in invitation. He returned from the kitchen with a pitcher of lemon water and two glasses. �Work was thankfully canceled today, something about dangerous travel conditions. Perhaps it was obvious, but I convinced my boss to call up the heads of each department and let them know not to come just in case. You�d be surprised how few people at the top of even a decent inkling of common sense.�

�I doubt that. Either way you didn�t call me here to talk about work.� The scribe said as he ordered his tools in front of him inventorying them as laid them out. Blythe had always known him to do this when they met in these capacities. He assumed the ritual held some kind of religious or mystical significance to the man, but didn�t really care enough to ask about the specifics.

�Did you really carry that here?� the object in question was a runed staff about six feet long made of an uncountable chaos of entwined vines.

�Of course. You want a miracle; what am I supposed to do without the staff?�

�The combination of this boy and you, in your parachute pants or whatever call that ridiculous outfit, walking though the well lit Enchantment streets completely oblivious to the multitudes of prying stares�I can�t see it. You�ve always struck me as too discreet a person to be so act so carelessly.� Blythe smiled over the rim of his glass.

�I�m not careless, merely practical, the streets are empty this far into the city. There�s no one living to see or comment on my trip here.� The scribe took a sip of water and then returned Blythe�s smile. �You�ve seen to that with this whole �war of the worlds� scenario you�ve created.� The scribe turned away from the conversation for a moment staring out into the hint of shadows tinting the skyline which proceeded night fall. The gesture was not supernatural in anyway, Blythe simply knew that the scribe�s attention reached somewhere beyond Enchantment�s sunset. �One evacuation shuttle remains and the last of the fleeing civilians are quickly filling the available seats. It�ll probably be leaving in the next five minutes�

�Then we�d best get started.� Blythe set the glass of water aside and began to run the links of his necklace between his fingers catalyzing the transformation with a small amount of focus.

�Why are you targeting a single bus out of a city of millions? With this attack you�ve already killed more than enough to clear our main objective. What difference does this make?� the scribe inquired of Blythe as he motioned the silent third party to stand between them. Without hesitation, the boy did as he was told, even removing his shirt and standing spread eagle at Blythe�s command.

�It�s because I want to see one of these miracles of yours in action. More than anything, I�m curious to see if it plays well with others.�

�So you want to set it on an unsuspecting group of people and then watch? That�s almost comically villainous�and what about using it to alter the spiritual alignment of this city to better accommodate out benefactor?�

�That�s a secondary plus.�

�Where are your priorities?� Blythe�s oddly dressed companion tsked. As the scribe finished, Blythe�s gaze suddenly hardened and an invisible wave of energy surged through the air as the golden links of the chain materialized around the arms legs and neck of the boy. The five sections of chain reached outwards inexplicably disappearing into the floor and ceiling of Blythe�s apartment. At Blythe�s unspoken command they drew taut, lifting their victim a short distance off the floor. The boy didn�t even whimper; under the combined strength of the scribe�s hypnosis and the invasive will of the chain, his will was their own. Satisfied with his handiwork he nodded to his guest to continue.

The scribe stood, approaching the body with the lengthy needle in one hand, and was must have been a palette. Both were tarnished and bronzed from past uses though it looked like they�d not seen the light of day for several years. �It�s of little use going through all this unless we guide this man�s life energies to the appropriate place. The runes I�m about to draw are like a map, guiding him through limbo directly to his arms.� As if to punctuate this he struck the point of he needle against the basin instantly causing a dark liquid to well up in the bottom of the plate.

�Right, guiding people to the afterlife, I bet you just like painting on people against their will. I supposed it helps that you�re about to kill him.� The scribe sighed and got to work, moving first from the hands, across the arms, to the torso. He �painted� in swift pricks drawing up complex tattoos and intricate markings instead of blood. The ink flowed together, the designs linking to form a labyrinth of ink.

�Pervert,� Blythe commented as the scribe started on the neck and began to move down to link it with the rest of the tattoos.

�Voyeur,� the scribe countered. When the drawing was finished, the scribe returned to his collection of things, this time choosing a blank sheet of reed paper from the stack. Blythe made out what looked to be a complex network of vines through the page. �I knew you�d choose some massive reptilian monstrosity to loose on the city if I let you chose so I made the choice for you. Prepare the sword while I ready things on my end.�

Blythe raised his wristwatch to the light, focusing it much as he had the chain. There was a notable strain as he tried to activate a second artifact while maintaining the first, but it was nothing he hadn�t done before. �Giant reptilian monstrosities, what else have you got in there?� Blythe said as the silver of the watch tarnished and stretched into a thin blade which Blythe plucked from the air.

�The sword breaks connections; the chain re-forges them.� The scribe thrust the sheet of reed paper towards the victim. It spun through the air towards him adhering to the skin though some unseen force. �Blythe, I�ve always been taught that the link between the human body and spirit rests behind the central chakra point just below the sternum. Destroy it with the sword, then tighten your hold on the chain and fill the void with the spell in that talisman.� The scribe spoke slowly to emphasize the importance of the steps. Blythe understood the fragility of this point in the ritual and understood why the man articulated the instructions so slowly, but read patronization into those words as well. Raising the sword, he approached the piece of meat suspended in the center of his room, running it through at the point specified with a thrust as slow and deliberate as the scribe�s instructions. Only as he did this, then did their prisoner flinch, whispering a short gasp as the blade through him to the void.

Reversing his grip on the sword, Blythe drew it from wound to find its dull metallic sheen bloodless, and the flesh of the victim � once again still � intact. He then diverted all his focus to the chain, making connections, rewriting and rewiring what was left to accept the new vessel of meaning contained within the talisman�And when he was finished, he opened his eyes � only just realizing that he had closed them � to find a conspicuous pile of ash before him. �Thank god, I thought I was going to have to figure out some method of disposing of dead bodies, now all I have to worry about is getting dust out of carpet. You wouldn�t happen to have an urn or something we could sweep these into would you? Typically I�d just throw something like this away but he was so cooperative�� Blythe asked as he returned to the chain and sword to their original shapes before turned to face his partner in crime. The scribe knelt with both hands resting upon the staff. He was silent, completely immersed in what Blythe could only assume was prayer.

�Take a handful of his ashes and toss them out the window, the so that the spell can take root.� Blythe waited a second or two for the man to elaborate, before scooping up a fistful of dust, carrying it to an open window and flinging carelessly outside, not even bothering to watch the grey cloud diffuse into the open air. When he looked back the scribe�s eyes were again open.

�Are we done?� Blythe asked and the man nodded. �Good, then get a dustpan or something I can sweep this into before I vacuum.�

((More's coming, will proof read tomorrow.))

With a groan, Curtis sat up from the wall of the vehicle. He was coming around, feeling slightly revived from his state of constant ache, but his body was still very uncooperative. Frightened people sat at all sides and a gloomy mood was prevalent in the vehicle. Since he couldn’t move well, he decided to listen. Most of the conversations around him were blasted back and forth speedily and hushed. The current murky state of his head made understanding what was being said difficult, but he picked up bits here and there. Nothing he heard put him at ease. The bridge ahead was out, the soldiers were trying to figure out what to do, and no one had any answers. Still, one young woman in particular was quite energetic. Curtis eyes darted back onto the now moving form of the girl from the club entrance. She appeared to be heading to check things out. He felt a sudden youthful vitality in his body after watching her move. It remained with him once she zipped out the vehicle and out of sight.

Curtis was still confused by the general discord around him—most of what he bothered to listen to was hushed whispers from a group of frightened people. The soldiers weren’t saying a word. He was half sure that was to follow some emergency protocol. The other half of him worried that they were just as unwitting as their cargo. He shook his head tiredly and once again looked across at the still unconscious man he had rescued. His son was strangely absent. Eyes cutting across the room he found the boy whimpering a few feet off to his right. He seemed to be waiting for some response before approaching Curtis. A weak smile cracked from Curtis’ lips calmed him. He took a deep breath, walked right up to the man, then pulled his small frame up onto the bench. Curtis looked down at the boy’s head, a mess of light brown locks easily mistaken for “dirty” blonde hair. Actual dirt and ash from the events within the city marked his face, hiding the small freckles on his cheeks. There was a large band-aid Curtis couldn’t quite recall being there on the boy’s forehead. The skin underneath was slightly swollen. The boy’s two dark green eyes met with Curtis’, and the bouncer could see that they were slightly wet. He smiled.

The boy mumbled something then brought both legs up to his chest, resting his head on his knees. Occasionally he would look over at his father and sob quietly, but his eyes rolled around the vehicle with a high level of suspicion. The man was still shifting restlessly, but beyond that showed no signs of consciousness. His son was, while quite shaken by the events preceding his sudden rescue, doing his best to remain calm. Still, he was just a child. A strong front couldn’t mask the frequent low sobs or the eyes red and still wet from tears. There was silence between them, beside the occasional sniffle from the boy, but eventually the child grew sick of the silence and spoke.

“Are we safe?” He choked out. Curtis sighed, began entangling his fingers around one another, and then turned to face the boy. The boy was staring back at him and fighting another fit of tears. He studied Curtis’ face for an answer.

“I think so.” Curtis lied, trying his best to relieve the boy’s worries. He couldn’t tell one way or another if they were.

“Is my…” he stopped, wiped his nose against the striped long sleeve shirt he wore and then continued. “Is my dad okay?” His words were almost a whisper. Curtis hid a frown by grinning and looking at the boy sideways. He was tired and trying his best not to display the worried, tremulous sensation in his heart. The location and current state of his family was unknown. He was safe but didn’t know for how long. Enchantment was reeling from vicious attacks and those showed no signs of stopping. What assurance could he offer this boy of his father’s health?

The man took a serious blow to the head. Although he was stirring, he was unresponsive. If anything he could be in shock, but Curtis didn’t know. He wasn’t a doctor. With another sigh, he stopped weaving his fingers and put an arm around the boys shoulder.

“I don’t know.” Curtis answered honestly. His hand patted the child on the shoulder gently like some doting family member. The boy tucked tighter into a ball, eyes sinking, and rocked slightly.

“But what I do know,” Curtis continued and the boy looked back up at him, “is that I’m not goin’ anywhere. Okay? I’ll be here with you.” He needed some reassurance. Curtis couldn’t tell him that everything was suddenly going to be okay, but he could be there even if it wasn’t. The boy let out a low whine, tucked his head back onto his knees and cried as silently as possible.

OOC:


Cold.

Frigid, it shattered, like the last semblances of the world—a mind broken before her, scalpel deftly curling inwards, ashes and soot of flames that crested sky and buildings alike—crowned irrevocably, denial refuted, ends in sight—

Perished.

The word, soft as the heavens were brazen in their cries, vocalizations tempered by flares and bastilles—impregnated with deception, reverence forlorn, discarded as the skulls of the very beasts they had become! Thrashing upon the earth, great statues of man’s might, tempered by wind and crafted of intelligence, ruined now by appeasement, their conformity! Shameless! Did they have no tears to shed?!

Not she, pale—the marring of life upon this temperamental grave, sands of time did shudder to see! Defiance, born up, withering to take the place of the trembles others might bear? See here, the star upon earth, plagues did not attest to her longevity—defiant yet she stood.

Whirls of the smoke oozed around the ruinous sagging of buildings swayed by forces far more bitter than they—these testaments to ingenuity, purpose, thriving existence!—these now bowed in heavy, clouded acceptance of their fate, the mystery that still fell beyond the countless beings of this and worlds beyond. Ignorant, yet understandably so. Seeking efficiency, rather than strength beyond that of glistening steels and systematic defenses. Fools, but as all before them, fools only. Dusk did fall, eyes gleamed with startling coldness, white impenetrable, gold lost in the depths of premature night. Whispers broke not away from formless graces, tethered they remained, sewn deftly into the backs of those scattered, as mesh and fledgling torn apart by cat at play—appetite coerced by cruelty, hunger fatal to carrier and the inflicted.

Winds brushed naught, city had fallen in a matter of hours—bile working its way through the onlookers, death, ne’er afore noted in their fair city, so deftly felled? Cruel, the gaze that drifted not—locked outwardly, needing no sweep to ascertain the tolls, the sights plaintively begging for retribution before her, frozen in place, their stance, as she—unmoving, among them still? Or lost up to realms again, wherefore naught could penetrate or follow? Subtle rushes of wayward debris, ash and hastily discarded newspaper, taken up listless flight, sweeping low, ne’er far from sutured earth, intact—yet distraught, drowned in hatred, gruesome attestations of hazed minds, unclear devotion, disgraced—they to be regurgitated the moment harsh veils were lifted, slaughtered by their own commandants.

Even now, trills of their aggressions, sulking, miserable, unfettered upon innocents, twisted about and through the fallen figures of symbolism to these—their intent fell, purposed, e’en in the loss of compatriot, fall not—stand high, stand ready—death awaits thee.

When at last they did pour forth, filling the littered, discarded street, beyond use now—figure was not seen, and to shadows and purpose she moved. Haste marred not her features, motions slow and intoning the very death creeping around her—no intent of savior had she—they would perish, for such, they were meant. Without their blood, the time for such miseries and profound alters as were soon to be established would wither up as very children were, tossed aside into the flames. Let them burn—Eyes merciless, overwhelmed with cold, unseeing they appeared, unfeeling they assumed. Such endless eyes, despised gaze.—no concern emanated from such a figure, such a walk she assumed, as though apparition merely, no connection had she to this world, their suffering, angel she could not be—Fingers stepped on, the dead ignored as well as the aching, suffering, unable to pronounce words for the gruesome wounds inflicted upon them, fear and anguish bursting in their many colored eyes, begging, their faces, ‘Help me! PLEASE! I BEG OF YOU! SAVE ME! SAVE ME!’

Discarded, let fall—petals of death, whispers lacking regret—angel, angel! Betrayal! Angel of death?! Betrayal! BETRAYAL! Their eyes screamed it, shrieked what their lips could not—ANGEL!

Fingers suddenly pressed against eyebrows, two fingers, a hand, casting no shadow, but hovering just above face, pale—unreal in the light of death—red, orange; the light of flames. Smile, on lips—eyes, unseeing, fair face, a mask of death—Apparition.—smile. Softly eyes grew heavy, beneath her touch, eyes grew docile—unseeing, what was…? Unseeing… eyes fell, fingers tenderly coaxed them shut, gentle sweep, emphasizing how heavy… heavy they were… yet how—how light, they felt… light… light.

Rest.

Numbness was granted them, release at last—what means… what means that voice in… in head…? That voice that… that… spoke of… of….

Shuddered earth—voices heard, approaching. But to heavens she took, left below the souls felled, not through pain and hatred—through life, felled, taken elegantly by hand, and slipped gently past doorway, from sidelines, onto the dance floor, into… brilliant light! Dancing—all ages and types—with one, one by one, with one—woman she seemed, name they knew not, could not make out her face, her color, her—the warmth which emanated from her fingertips, gently leading them, upon the floor, into the open, out from the dusky shadows, the repressive shade—to join with her, join with this light! Freed, from impediments, from weights and barbaric thought, released, at last, from life!

I give you no pain. I give you life. Take it of me.

Come. Dance with me.

Lei did not look at Wesla right away, in fact, she hadn’t even noticed him, instead preferring to survey the group of people she’d just decided to surround herself with. While some appeared to have some semblance of calm and self-control about them, others had already dissolved into panic and seemed seconds away from being consumed by their fear and losing control of their bladders. The thought made Lei turn her head from them out of deference for the dignity they were about to forfeit. And her gaze landed on the blond, whose eyes she got for a second before he turned away. Wesla. Was it just her or did he seem a little nervous and distracted? Had he already messed up or was he just anxious about being found out? Perhaps he’d forgotten his instructions and didn’t want to be embarrassed in front of her? Regardless of the reason, she could care less. She wasn’t here to turn him in for whatever he’d done. Merely to accomplish her own orders. Without so much of a hint of acknowledgement, she turned away from him and returned her attention to the rest of the group.

Lain regarded Wesla curiously. She supposed he had a point about being in the vehicle, but considering there was nowhere for them to go, getting back inside the truck seemed pointless. At least this way, if the Nagruvians attacked, they could scatter. She seemed to be the only one who thought that, though, because everyone else turned and started heading back towards the truck. Lain sighed and slumped her shoulders. Of course, she thought, exasperatedly. She began to shuffle around to the back of the vehicle, like everyone else, but stopped as the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Suddenly, a cold, clammy feeling was sliming along the walls of her stomach. She had a bad feeling.

“Everyone, get away from the truck,” she yelled.

Sylvia turned from where she hung off the back, preparing to step up into the truck. She looked a little irritated. “Lain, it’s fine. If you want to stay out here, we promise we won’t leave you.”

Lain ignored her and repeated, louder this time, and more insistent. “Get away from the truck, now! Get everyone inside out!” Her skin felt cold as she broke out into a sweat. Her heart was beginning to pound in her chest. Her throat was dry and she found it incredibly hard to swallow. Something terrible was about to happen. She could feel it. Sylvia looked at Lain a moment, and upon seeing her friend was serious, slowly climbed back down to the ground and rolled her eyes, carefully backing away from the vehicle. “Happy now?”

“No. Everyone. EVERYONE GET AWAY FROM THE TRUCK NOW!” she screamed and raced toward the crowd, shoving people backwards before clamoring up into the truck to cart people out. She hurried, prodding people to their feet and dragging them across the floor, pushing them out into the arms of waiting soldiers who stared at her bewildered. What was wrong with this insane girl? “Quick! Get the people out of the other truck as well. Someone help me get the informed out of here!” Several jumped to attention, jumping into the truck to carry people out as well.

“Lain, what’s going on?” Sylvia demanded, her arms folded across her chest. She seemed annoyed.

“Something’s going to happen. I just know it,” Lain replied as she helped a dark-skinned man who lay against the wall to his feet. She recognized him as the security guard from Vendetta. “Can you walk?” she asked him. “If not, lean on me.” She moved forward slowly, supporting his weight as much as she could. She turned her attention back to Sylvia. “I mean, don’t you think it’s strange that this bridge collapses just as we get here? And it wasn’t because of a bomb or Nagruvians? No explosion took place and the Nagruvians aren’t powerful enough to this.” She grunted slightly as she encouraged the man to sit down and slide from the truck. Received by the soldiers, they helped him back with the ground as she straightened and moved back to the boy he’d been speaking with. “Furthermore, there’s not a robot in sight. Something else did that, and I’m betting it’s still around.” She extended a hand toward the frightened boy. “Can you stand?”

Though she spoke to him in a soft, easy voice, the boy could do nothing but shake his head in fright. Clearly, her talk of monsters had scared him. “Listen,” she said, as patiently as she could. “I know you’re scared, but your father’s out there. He needs you by his side so he can get better. Your strength will flow into him and help make him strong again. You must get up and go to him. Come with me.” The boy remained where he was, trembling still, but unwilling to move his body just yet. She could see he was thinking it over however. After another minute, he carefully extended his hand to take hers and she pulled him to his feet.

Lei, who had been watching from the edge of the group, turned as something caught her eye. It was green, and coiling over the edge of the jagged rock that remained of the bridge. Slowly, with purpose, almost like venom. And then all at once, it shot up and straight for the truck, followed by more green coils, exploding from beneath the bridge ruins, arching into the sky and heading for the vehicle. “WATCH OUT!” she cried, involuntarily. She hadn’t meant to say anything, but the words had slipped out before she could stop them. Lain looked up alarmed. Well the words were out, Lei reasoned. She might as well finish the thought. “GET DOWN!” Instantly, Lain dropped to the floor, taking the boy with her. A green spear stabbed through one side of the truck and out the other, passing through where Lain’s chest had been moments earlier.

Panting, Lain stared up at the weapon in shock. The “spear,” decorated with leaves, was such a vibrant shade of green, it reminded Lain of the park on a cloudless, spring day, when the sun reflected off the tree leaves and the grass and everything appeared emerald green. The boy whimpered, patently scared, but Lain ignored him. Now was not the time to try and talk him through anything, much as she might have wanted to, if only to calm him. She jumped to her feet, yanking him up with her, and quickly pulling him into her body and arching to avoid another attack. What she’d thought was a spear was actually a vine and it seemed intent on skewering the pair of them. Curling to the side to dodge another tendril, she vaulted over the previous attempt, skipping to the side as another vine whizzed past.

“Hell,” she gasped. The vines were chasing her farther away from the door. She had to get—she was knocked to her feet as the truck rose violently into the air. From the way the vines aimed, Lain felt she could safely conclude that her assailant was alive and aware in at least some capacity. It seemed to know where she was and what she wanted to do, which meant logically, something might try to attack her as she jumped out. If she jumped out that was. A loud crunch brought her attention back to the situation at hand. She looked up and noticed a dent that rung the entire truck about ten feet from where she stood, her back pressed against the wall. The monster was going to crush them if they didn’t get out. She cursed.

“Okay,” she said, grabbing the boy again. She met his gaze and said seriously, in a low voice, “This is going to be really scary, but just trust me. I promise, I won’t let you get hurt.” He stared back a moment and then nodded shakily. “Good. Now hold on tight.” Tightening her grip on his hand, she shot forward, jumping as a vine burst through the metal of the army vehicle where they’d just been crouching. Ducking under the vines already skewering the truck, Lain fell backwards, narrowly missing another vine as she pulled the boy on top of her and rolled across the cold floor. Though the green ropes attempted to crush the truck before Lain and her charge could escape, they burst from the open side of the truck spectacularly, both filled with terror when they noticed just how high up they were. And just as she suspected, she could see a green spike shooting up at her, the tip perfectly sharpened.

Touching her free hand to her bracelet around the boy’s neck, the extremely faint outlines of the shield faded into her sight just as she unfolded her wings to slow their descent. The vine collided with her shield and reared back, hovering a moment before deciding to join its comrades in destroying the truck all twisted up in its grasp. From where she floated, she could hear the screams of agony of the soldier stuck inside the front part of the truck as the vines twisted around his body. She could see him struggling against the invaders, battling for his life. And all at once, the creature ended the fight once and for all with a final twist of his head, effectively snapping his neck. Unsatisfied, it twisted the rest of the man’s limbs until he looked like some sort of grotesque pretzel and then folded the truck around him, crushing it and twisting it up like a towel with ease before dropping it carelessly on the ground. Lain descended quickly as well, not wanting to be stuck in the air if the monster decided she and the boy would become its targets again. Everyone remained silent as they stared at the distorted hulk of the truck they’d been eager to climb into only seconds before. The vines seemed to settle for a moment as well, taking in their handiwork with an air of satisfaction about them (if plants could indeed feel such an emotion). No one said anything blood began to drip steadily from an opening where the window used to be. And then all at once, the vines turned their attention to the crowd of spectators staring on in stunned silence, heading for the group with gusto.

Everything exploded into chaos.

I don't think I need to bother with disguises anymore.

As Author was currently in the massive crowd of people, he was not exactly worried about being discovered. And even if he was, who'd be able to tell his real identity in his faceless form? With this in mind he shed his disguise, face melting away. He yanked the white robe and cloak from seemingly nowhere and pulled them on as he ascended upwards to get a better view of the creature as it proceeded to wreck the truck.

When the vines lunged for the crowd, he went to work. Silver portals opened and closed at his command, catching and diverting the vines when they got too close to a human. It wasn't a perfect defense though. Some still got through the constant portal weaving and snatched up a victim to break and bend.

But the plant wasn't dumb. It quickly determined just where the portals were coming from and began to send a fresh barrage of sharp vines at Author. Unfortunately, he was a little distracted keeping the vines away from what seemed to be a family. His body was pierced through rather easily with a loud grunt of pain from him. The portals stopped appearing as his concentration was broken. The vines tightened and began trying to pull him towards the plant, with Author trying to fly backwards the entire way, with not much success.

I don't care if I can just regenerate the holes eventually, it hurts like hell! Wait...hellooo, what do we have here? Powerful auras here and there. Author renewed his efforts at escaping, slowing his descent towards the main plant to the pace of a fisherman reeling in a big catch. Play it out, reel it in, play it out, reel it in, and continue until you land that fish. But he had better things to do than be catch of the day.

He locked onto the strongest auras and opened a portal beside each of them and one in front of his mouth. "Testing, one, two, three. I'll make this quick. I'm the white fish being reeled in up in the sky and I could use some help. Your auras distinguish you from the rest of the crowd. Anyways, if you can cut a couple vines holding me before they get decide to start seeing which way my limbs bend that'd be great thanks."

Plenty of the civilians broke into a panic as a result of the attack of the strange vines. As they ran about to find cover, screaming at the top of their lungs, the soldiers were right nearby considering a plan of action. With their rescue vehicles destroyed and the vines able to dart this way and that so quickly, fleeing wasn't much of an option.

Wesla could do little but watch as Lain tried to elude the vines and some man got himself captured by one of them. He hadn't seen anything like this before on Nagru, and as far as he knew it wasn't part of the plan to attack Enchantment. With the condition that his leg was in, he figured he wouldn't be much of a challenge if he became its new target.

A few men and women bumped into him as they moved about, their faces full of mindless terror. Even though most of them had somehow been saved by the appearance of portals, their fight-or-flight response kicked in. The citizens of Enchantment weren't having a good day at all.

As he stood still amongst the crowd, watching the vines move around like some vicious predator, a portal appeared next to his ear as a voice emerged from it, "Testing, one, two, three. I'll make this quick. I'm the white fish being reeled in up in the sky and I could use some help. Your auras distinguish you from the rest of the crowd. Anyways, if you can cut a couple vines holding me before they get decide to start seeing which way my limbs bend that'd be great thanks."

Running a hand through his hair, Wesla let out a laborious sigh that was easily drowned out by the shouting all around him. These vines were helping him to accomplish what he had come for in the first place, not only that but he didn't much fancy being kneaded like a pile of human dough by them. If he just stood by and let them go to work, the citizens would be wiped out in no time. All he had to worry about was when it became his turn to run from the vines.

It was only when his eyes focused on the child that Lain had saved did Wesla begin to have second thoughts. To watch a kid like that get torn to pieces would be the guilty straw to break the camel's back. There'd be no excuse to give to himself then. He'd be a monster. "I'm an idiot if I try to save this guy. I know it," He mumbled underneath his breath as he lowered his chin shamefully. The baseball bat in his hand would do nothing more but make the creature mad, and it was all he could possibly use. Even if he could take the thing down a notch with the bat, he'd have Lei to answer to.

Down the street, a squad of Nagruvians was marching steadily towards the group, picking up the pace as they caught sight of Enchantment civilians. They were of all sorts and sizes, ready to wreak some more havoc and finish this job. Wesla's heart sank when the squad, comprised of about twenty Nagruvians, was run through by vines. It was obvious they had seen the tendrils rushing towards them, but they were likely so confused that the impending danger had failed to register quick enough in their minds.

With all confidence shattered, his arms shaking, Wesla tested his leg to see if it would impede his movement. It wouldn't. All that was left was to move, to run forward and try to free the man caught by the vines--but he just couldn't. His mind kept shouting, "Don't go! Stay! Pain's no fun, you know that. What good would you do anyway? Just stay!" As tempting as it was, Wesla knew he couldn't sit still. If the Nagruvians were destroyed by the plant, the soldiers from Nagru that were supposed to be arriving in the next wave wouldn't do much better.

Throwing caution to the wind, Wesla pushed on through the civilians and climbed to the top of the wrecked rescue vehicle. While he could still move on his recently stitched leg, he knew he wouldn't get too much height if he tried to jump. Still, while on the vehicle he prepared himself, ducking down low to the metal. When he sprung forward, leaping from the edge of the vehicle, he was satisfied when his arms caught onto one of the smaller vines that was holding onto the man.

"This is so stupid. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Foolish, dumb, stupid!" Wesla hollered continuously in his pessimism, climbing the vine as carefully and quickly as he could. The yelling was the only thing keeping him from just letting go and falling back down to the ground. Before too long, he had reached the man in the plant's clutches. While looking frantically around to bat away any vines that came towards them, he spoke nervously, "Just hang on--I'll try and get these things off you."

Whenever he had a free moment, Wesla had to lower his bat and go to trying to pull the vines loose from where they had pierced through the man, but he wasn't making much progress. Every time vines tried to make a pass at Wesla, he had to stop what he was doing and take a swing at them with his bat. They were increasing in number each time, and it wouldn't be long before they got the best of him.

He had reverted back to his earlier shouts, and at first he had only called it each time he hit a vine with his bat. Now it was just a constant stream of "stupid" being mumbled.