paradise is nowhere

there is a layer of sweat and dirt clung to her that she can’t get rid of, dried blood in between her nails and taste of burnt ashes and iron on her tongue. bitter and sour.

she is exhausted. her movements are sluggish as she stumbles through the rumbles and ruins that were once her home. her breathing is uneven, grows even more ragged with each step she takes forward as the blade wound in her stomach burns. she grits her teeth and clenches her hand but doesn’t stop. doesn’t stop even when’s the itch in her throat that’s driving her crazy, the buildup of the taste of iron until the pressure is too much and she vomits blood. she pushes her self forward and forces her muscles to move.

because she can’t feel him anymore, he is gone.

.

.

.

she was in the heart of battlefield, drunk on the warm feeling spread across her arms twins of dragon tattoos glowing golden, her magic spilling from the tips of her fingers, a galaxy of stars burning around her when suddenly— the warmth disappeared. she froze. faltered in her spell; a moment of distraction, an opening that her the opponent took advantage of plunging a blade into the side of her stomach. but she didn’t recognise the pain, only focused on the fading dragon tattoos. he was dying.

it was a split decision. she called on her magic, feeling the tide of magic that raises, heavy and vast as the ocean, and like a hurricane breaking through fragile barriers she cut through space and teleported to the last area she felt their connection break—

only to howl in pain, her knee buckling under the force as a sharp stabbing pain suddenly lanced through her. Immediately, she pushed her hand on a wound, applying pressure to at least stop the blood. she didn’t have enough magic left to heal herself unless she wanted to burn out and faint.

so with a shaky breath, she pushed herself up and stood. and what she saw left her wide-eyed and horror-stricken. it was gone, her home. for miles all, she could see was ruins and rumbles of stones and buildings of what once was apart of a mighty kingdom and in the air, she could hear, smell traces of a strong spell. it must have been the oracle, only they were bold enough to barge into their territory like this and tear it apart with their large supplies of magic.

she pushed her rage that bubbled at this knowledge focusing on the task at hand, she had to find evan. glancing at the arms, her heart ached in agony, the glowing dragon tattoos on her arms were reduced to faint grey lines she could barely see. hot on his tail—desaparate— she ran as fast as she could, with one of her hands pressed on her blade wound, before the tattoo could fade out.

in the back of her mind, she recognized what she was doing was treason, abandoning her post on the battlefield but she could care less.

because always, above everything, he mattered the most.

.

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