Ruin
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Neil turned in time to watch the captain of the city guard grab his sister's arm. A cluster of black armored figures stood behind them, shifting knife points and shields. Ava struggled against his grip, but the captain dragged her toward the bridge with apparent ease. One of the guards said something. The captain shouted something back.
Neil lunged for them, but hit the barrier. It lit up where he touched it. Electricity tore through him and he fell back. Rubbing the light out of his eyes, he sat up. Ava was pulling harder now, hard enough to make the captain pause to yank her forward. “Ava!” As if she heard him, Ava threw all her weight into tearing away from the captain. She fell to the grass and jumped to her feet. As she reached for the sword hanging from a guard's belt, the captain grabbed her by the hair. He said something and Ava began to kick at him, twisting and shouting. Neil watched a guard drive a blade through his sister's neck. Her body stood on its knees, the wind catching the corners of her dress. The captain let go of her hair and she slumped onto the grass. Neil didn't realize he was screaming until something shook him by the shoulder. “They couldn't see us. Not through the barrier.” “Ava! She—you—God! Why!” He clapped his hands over his mouth to try to contain it, but the scream tore out of him again. The captain motioned for someone to step forward. This was a woman. Neil thought he knew her, but her name had vanished. She bent over Ava and picked her up like a bride. His sister was carried over the bridge. |
Altar
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“It was your eye, wasn't it? In that awful room.”
Giles hooked a thumb under the cloth running across his face and pulled it up onto his forehead. He smiled briefly, but the motion barely touched the loose, torn lid and the pink flesh beneath it. Scars radiated from the wound. “I don't know what it looks like,” he said, his hand still on the cloth as if he were going to pull it back down any moment. “Since we have no mirrors. The look on your face says it's bad.” “No, it's—he let Sister Cecelia have that cane, maybe he'd let you get a prosthetic.” Giles lowered his hand enough to touch his mostly-missing bottom lid. “I don't think it would stay in.” Now he did pull the cloth back down over his face. The barest trace of one long scar extended too far to be covered. It almost touched the side of his nose. “I'm sorry. You probably didn't want to see that.” |