Beacon of Light

5

Beacon of light

Don't fear the struggle, we'll find a way.

We'll snatch the darkness from the dawn.

When the fallen band together,

All the lonely days are gone."

Year: 68 a.v.

Era allowed it to happen. She wanted it, just a taste of the pain that her father had succumbed to. The creatures had brought it upon themselves, the Baol. They encircled her, ignorant of what they were inviting. One of them lashed out. A black splintered claw sheared through the outermost layer of her skin. It had been just a hair away from cutting into her flesh and rendering the gash that would have left her helpless to their advances. But the claw fell just short. She had leaned away effortlessly, just enough to survive. The dark line left upon her cheek excreted a fine trail of blood. This is what she needed. Fuel. It brought up old menaces in her mind. A diamond crown falling beyond time. A spirit departing its husk, leaving her life forever.

She smeared the bright blood away onto her robes and the fabric wholly enveloped the fluid with its own hue. She smiled. The other Baol saw this and angered. They slashed at the insolent stranger. They swiped with intent to tear the stringy black material from its head. It deserved to die for wandering in the wilderness after nightfall like a sick beast. But it didn't, it wouldn't fall. They persisted tearing unceasing, their insanity made them strong. Why would it not die like hapless prey? Why was it not afraid?

They had never heard the name Era Raxal.

Era parried and spun betwixt and through their attacks with speed far exceeding the four-legged animals of the wood that the Baol were accustomed to, and she lapped up their confusion giddily, for there were others whom she wished to feel as they did.

Pathetic, she thought. "Would you like me to stand still, or would laying face down in the dirt be preferable?"

An oily green fist answered, thrusting hard toward her face. Era shifted her head a fraction to the left. She had already prepared a counter before the creature began its movement. The arm stayed extended above her shoulder for merely a second, but in that ample time, she managed to lock her inescapable grip around the broad wrist, burying filed red nails into the creature’s skin. The reek of decay and excrement furthered her killing instinct.

"I hate to touch you," she said, looking into the creature’s eyes. "This is vile. You are vile."

Its eyes were red with white lightning that flashed inside. Confusion marked the creature's gleaming brow and rippled nose.

"You do not understand me," she said. "But I'm sure you'll understand this."

She wrenched the arm back sharply, tearing clean it from the socket so that it hung loose at the creature’s side, held only by skin. The pull brought it forward and Era used this moment advantageously by jabbing into the creature's solar plexus. The Baol cried out in a shill plea and settled on the ground shuddering. Era ignored it; if it attacked her again, she would kill it in the most excruciating manner she could think up.