Prologue

"He's dead, he died saving me."

She had to hold back her tears.

He had been dead for so long.

Then why was he the only thing she thought about? She was honestly dreaming about someone who died heroically, who sparred millions of lives, who is now, in heaven, near, about nowhere.

She was daydreaming about her past.

She had remembered seeing him for the first time, the way he had stared at her, the way he would try to sneak a smile when he thought she wasn't looking. He was the only person she ever liked, the only one whom she will ever like.

She had remembered the first time he ever said she was beautiful, when she had crying in the cramped corner of Greenhaven. He was there for her, when she left everything behind.

She had remembered how he sang to her, songs, handwritten by him, sung by his own voice, to the tune of his harp. All the way until midnight, where the moon would shine in the sky, and his voice would echo, a beautiful sound, as continuous words flew out of his mouth. He was the song stuck in her head, for as long as forever lasted.

She had remembered how he had kissed her, for the first time. It was like all the pain from her history rushed out of her, leaving only memories of him, his face, his words and his voice. He was the edge of her perfection, the good half of her.

And then all the good pictures of him turned into a heartthrob mess, all tangled up, as hard as she tried to forget, she knew it would never happen. All the times he said something sweet, all the times he embraced her, it was all gone. And she now wished he had never loved her.

Lishay never thought knowledge was good, ever since she met Tarik. Ever since that, she knew, somehow, that he would be taken away, by his own promises. And what she knew was right, although she was unwilling to accept it.

-In her dreams-

"Tarik, are you there?" asked little Lishay, running up the grassy hills, in the fields of Greenhaven. "It's not funny anymore! I said we're done with hide and seek!"

Suddenly, a sleek black shadow grabbed Lishay's little waist and yanked her to the sky.

She was soaring, up high, in the air.

"What do you want?" asked the shadow, generously. "I can give you anything."

"I want Tarik back. I want him down from heaven, I want him here."

The shadow snickered. "You mean you want to change history? Okay. As long as you want to."

Then, she was inside a prison, a sword held against her throat. "Wha- what?" She took a glance around her. She was present Lishay, twenty-year old Lishay. She realized the shadow was the one trying to kill her.

"You said you wanted Tarik alive. Now, Rollan is dead, you don't know who is the real Devourer, and the Conquerors have won. Still want Tarik? I don't think so. But, oh well, I have to answer every wish, no exceptions."

Lishay was shaking with regret. "I- YOU DEVIL! YOU TRICKED ME INTO THIS, I WILL CURSE YOU!"

"Oh, right, one more thing, there's no turning back."

Lishay awoke the sound of her own breath. The way she had been thinking about Tarik, trailed, even in her sleep.

That was the thing people didn't understand about him. He died a heroic death, but he's still dead! No matter how someone died, they're still dead. Dead, not with her, not with anyone, but dead.

And, just somehow, that someone had to be Tarik. Tarik, who was a feeling, a word, a song, and even part of her.

Tarik, whom she had to get revenge on, for the pain he caused her.

Yes! Aftershock III soaring up high!
I wasn't going to make an Aftershock III, but, whateves.
~Alicio