WARNING: This story contains Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal Actions, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Alcohol Abuse, PTSD, Depression, Arson, Starvation, and lots of feels and tears from the author. None of this is intended to be glamorized. This story is not meant to glorify any of it. This story is about the most human side of painful things, from an inside perspective. This story will hurt to read, perhaps almost as much as it hurt to write so much of it. Some things will be written in extreme detail, and these things may be triggering, and for this I apologize in advance. No one deserves to go through the torture that I put this character through but some of you do experience it. I wish that it didn't happen at all but it does. And I hope that for those of you who see themselves reflected in this story, I hope that you might find light and love. You fight a war every day. You deserve better.
Please don't be afraid to comment on anything with this story. Tell me things you like, you dislike, things you find inaccurate, accurate, sickening, helpful, and please please please tell me why. It's the only way I can improve as an author.
All my love to each and every one of you.
Sincerely,
The Author
(PS. Beginning Warning of each chapter will be updated as additional warning tags pop up so you will have a heads up at the beginning of each chapter of what is to come)
Shit, shit, shit, fuck!
The flames were spreading fast, too fast, and not everyone was accounted for.
"Come on, come on!" Linwe shouted as another came into view and ushered them through the doorframe where the spell caught and whisked them away from existence.
Dozens of fire runes had been spread out across the library, each one situated just far enough apart that they would go off with enough heat but their destruction wouldn't block escapes.
Everyone on the job should be able to escape.
He could hear the Master Archivist shouting for aid, and the white light of frost magic being cast closer to the entrance and two of the three doorways the Thalmor could access the hall of archives from.
Another shot of frost magic came down from the second floor's balcony and he swore.
He was still waiting on one more.
Undil was supposed to do rounds and make sure the area was clear before the runes were set to go off and he hadn't seen that damned boy yet!
A shadow in the fires and he let out a startled breath, leaving his post by the door to get to him.
Damn boy was ashed and hair frayed with the heat, too close to a rune when it went off, and he was dragging a civilian worse off than him.
Shit!
No one was supposed to get hurt, Undil was supposed to steer people away from the zone.
No one was supposed to get hurt, and as he moved to help, he saw the bloodied and burnt wounds across his face and shoulders. Young too. About the same age as Undil. He had to be a student of the Academy.
He wasn't breathing either.
"Shit. He's already gone."
Undil didn't let go of the body, his fingers digging into the ruined fabric. "You have to let him go, there's nothing we can do!" Linwe urged, shaking him.
Both of their heads snapped up as they heard the shouts.
They were out of time.
Thalmor were closing in on them.
Breaking away from the damn boy, Linwe put his shoulder and all his body weight into one of the burning book shelves, tipping it and letting it sway before his next shove managed to topple it over and cascade it into the next.
If they were lucky, the chaos would delay them just long enough.
"Come on," he yelped at Undil, almost dragging him away from the body and shoving him through the doorframe, watching his shape briefly shift before the magic took over properly and the image dissolved.
He counted to five before he felt along the frame for the fasteners of the magic, wiping them away with the whispered incantation, fire roaring with an explosion, a bookshelf completely decimated by a spell to clear a path with the shards of burning wood scattering around him.
Linwe barely looked back as he stepped into the last lingering moments of the spell to see the civilian who didn't make it, fire catching on his clothes from the sparking splinters as another bookshelf became easy kindling.
"Sorry," he murmured.
Between was a place he hated, where one end of the transportation spell latched to another, and his knees buckled after the split second that felt like eternity that there was no light, no warmth, no air to breathe and he was right where they needed to be, the passage map anchored just twelve miles out of the city.
Except he almost fell over Undil.
Damn boy should have gotten out of the way as soon as he popped out the other side but he was just collapsed in on himself under the sunlight, entire body shaking.
Soot drifted into the sky as hair that should have been a dusty red ruffled like harvest wheat when the wind picked up and with stunned horror, his eyes met the others who looked between each other, already realizing the truth.
This wasn't Undil.
Shit.