Two updates in two days? I must have a very dedicated review out there. ;) Thanks again to Infinitepossibilities (who appears to be the only one reading this story considering no one else reviews. haha.)
This chapter is much shorter than the last one (and probably just as poor, but whatever).
I was kinda stressed/pmsing today and had to write something before I imploded.
((Disclaimer- If I were an actual author, I would have worked harder on this story rather than letting it fall to pieces in my head. That is all.))
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Chapter XXI
She stood before the fallen colonnade, tears unknowingly streaming down her cheeks, the tracks matching the rivers of blood running along the cracks in the road. Once proud buildings now leaned towards the ground, charred to their core. Their colorful marble columns lay in pieces, scattered throughout the forum. The creaking and subsequent crash of still crumbling buildings echoed around the corners.
How could it be that so great a city could fall so far?
No natural disaster could cause this ruin; this was human in the making. It all comes back to fear. Fear of the unknown, of death, of the uncontrollable. The Aventines began the fear, the Trucidare silenced it. And this was the result.
She knelt to the ground taking up a handful of dirt, watching as it fell through her fingers, leaving behind streaks of red. No one could have ever imagined that these glorious streets would be saturated by massacre.
The Flame she had dedicated her life to guarding had long been extinguished, doused not by water, but by an inferno that consumed the sacred temple.
She stood up slowly, her limbs not willing to respond to her requests.
The city was quiet for the first time in days; the terror of hopeless citizens smothered by the silence of the Dark God.
She had been a coward, fleeing into the crypts below Aventinium. The bones of her ancestors housed her life as the men scoured the passages for survivors. Aventinians they may have been, but ignorant were many of the hideaways provided beneath the earth. The Trucidare never found her.
When she emerged from her refuge, she wished they had.
Bodies were strewn throughout the streets, their limbs mangled and burned. Women lay naked, their clothing shorn. Children lay in huddles, their last horror forever masking their faces.
"Aventinium cecidit."
Her words fell limp against the stillness. Would anyone know what had occurred in the last days of the Aventines? Would anyone remember? Would anyone listen?
Would the Trucidare find her before she could do anything?
Her shoulders straightened. Her hand reached up to grab her bulla, clutching the protective charm tightly as she turned her back to the past.
"Stultum est timere quod vitare non potes, Trucidare. Aventines gnovissimus, ceu fui. Iam dehebit. Tempus fugit, non autem memoria."
She lifted her gaze to the hills before her. The breeze carried soot from the ruins across the tall grass that covered her path. The priestess took a step forward, making her way towards the unknown she once feared. Perhaps one day memory, flying on the wings of time, would catch up with the Trucidare.
Perhaps.
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The cinders of the fire had long cooled by the time they returned, and the sky above was gray tinged with rose. A new day was beginning.
Morning birds fluttered between the trees, chattering amongst themselves as they awoke.
Silence seemed to be a recurring theme, thought Trix as she stared at the knights. Laurend was pacing back and forth, closing his eyes every once in a while, as if shutting out reality would help him sort through his thoughts.
Audrie however remained motionless, with the exception of her hands, which fiddled ceaselessly with the hem of her tunic.
Trix altered between watching Laurend and Audrie as she sifted through her own thoughts. The Priestess had pulled through for her, somehow. The visions which had tormented her for the past year now plagued others. How would they react? Would they believe her to have used the Gift on them somehow? Or would they accept the reality, at least, what could be made of it.
What would she do if they didn't believe her, even after the vision? She couldn't make her way through the forest alone; perhaps they could drop her off at the nearest town, leaving her to be with her mad self?
What would she do if the Trucidare attacked again? She couldn't defend herself. The gods all but told her they could interfere no longer. She would be alone.
She sighed, watching as the first rays of light began to pass through the upper canopies. The golden light was filtered through the leaves, giving a light green tone to everything below it. The coloring was serene, calming.
Trix wondered if the priestess had walked through these woods, admiring the innate and simple splendor nature could bring. Would she have been able to see the beauty after witnessing all that death? How did she carry on? Did the sky still look the same to her as it did from before the Trucidare attacked?
Did it still look the same as it did before her mother was killed?
Yes…
No.
It was different, changed, fuller perhaps. There was something more to the environment around her than there had been before. Or was it simply herself that had changed? What was it she felt now, appreciation for what she had at that very moment? Yes.
Her heart was heavy with the loss of her mother, but there was time to mourn later. Time flies, but memories remain. She would have time to recount the memories later, for now she had to deal with the perpetrators—the Trucidare.
Or, more to the point, how to deal with them.
Laurend's pacing stopped, causing her to look up from her introspection.
"What was that?"
It was a simple enough question, but there was more that he sought from it.
"Proof." A simple question deserved a simple reply. Trix wasn't certain if she could manage more than that, anyway. She had not slept in two days.
"Proof of what?"
"You know very well what." She snapped. "Now do you believe me, or not?"
His hand rubbed down his face, slowing at his chin to scratch his short whiskers. He glanced down at his squire, who continued to fiddle with the hem, but nodded resolutely. Laurend's shoulders dropped in defeat.
"Yes, we believe you."
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Any thoughts on where you want it to go from here? I have a basic outline planned, but it is up for revision (again) because I'm unhappy with it (again).
Please review!
Latin Translations:
"Aventinium cecidit."- Aventinium has fallen.
"Stultum est timere quod vitare non potes, Trucidare. Aventines gnovissimus, ceu fui. Iam dehebit. Tempus fugit, non autem memoria."- It is foolish to fear that which you cannot avoid, Trucidare. The Aventines have learned, as have I. Now you must. Time flies, but memory does not.
I take credit for the (again, poor) translations of all latin above with the exception of 'Stultum' through 'potes', which belongs to Publius Sirus.
So yeah, I've set a goal to finish this story by Christmas at midnight. This story's been going on for a while now, and I feel like I've forgotten where the story was headed in the beginning, to where it is going now, and I feel bad for letting some characters (Aunt Lavinia) slip away from my imagination. Perhaps one day after I finish this thing I will do a re-write that has more focus, but until then you have my hodgepodge of randomness. :)
Constructive Criticism Is More Than Appreciated, It Is Welcomed With Open Arms. (Open Arms That Hold Cyber Cookies!)