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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1761007-Drops-of-Mercury-Prologue-Part-Two
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by Kleo Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 13+ · Draft · Fantasy · #1761007
Part two of my epic prologue. And uh... please read part one first, will ya? :)
Steel sparked above me, my head shot up, and before I could so much as blink, Cauldebron’s sword plummeted; my back arched backwards, my eyes widened, and the world around seemed to blacken, to disappear, until all I could see was the flashing edge of the long blade as it speedily approached my face...

A lick of cold metal kissed my nose and forehead. Oh gods, I thought with stark clarity. I’m going to die.

And then, suddenly...

The sword stopped. The battle stopped. The clangs, the cries, the cannon blasts- they all stopped.

Still arched backwards, face touching sword, I gave a huge, ragged gasp. And then- “oof!” I fell onto my back.

There I lay, quivering, sucking in loud, tremulous breaths. My round eyes fixed themselves on Cauldebron, who stood frozen in wild fury. He stared unblinkingly, his lips curling over his teeth in a wicked snarl.

But why in the name of the gods was he frozen like that?

My eyes darted about. Everything was frozen.

The great, turbulent battle on the curving Litian beach was suddenly a forever-long stretch of very animated, very horrifying sculptures. There were soldiers of every size, shape, ethnicity, and in every color of armor, fighting back swarms of fair-haired Litians. Their faces were frozen in ferocity, in fear, in mid strike, mid stab, mid death. Red, Pyrrian dragons floated in the sky, also frozen, one in mid fall, a ragged hole gaping in its wing, one in mid belch of fire, most circling, or diving, or scooping up soldiers in their claws. Flaming comets of catapulted boulders hovered in midair as well. One had frozen just as it made contact with the ground, and sand, blood, and broken bodies sprayed up all around it. Arrows lingered in the air, their Litian archers frozen above. They were stationed atop the black, crescent shaped cliff that jutted up harshly out of the beach, wherein was embedded Cauldebron’s grand, white palace, now aglow with frozen flame.

The air was utterly still, and oddly solid. The silence was crushing.

I was still lying on my back, staring cross-eyed at a frozen raindrop that hovered just above my nose. My mind, it seemed, couldn’t grasp this situation. My thoughts became flighty and unintelligible, and my beloved adrenaline seeped out through my fingers and into the ground. Now I felt numb, heavy, exhausted.

I touched my lip. Blood? Why was I bleeding? I tried to prop myself onto my elbows, yelped in pain, fell back again. My head thumped heavily against the sand, and my eyes snapped shut, brimming with hot tears. I rolled onto my side, cradling my useless arm. Though the pain was terrible, I’d had worse. I could handle pain. What I couldn’t handle my own lack of understanding, my sheer ignorance as to what was happening. I felt blind, exposed... frightened. Such fear was alien to me. And worse, there was nothing I could do.

​My eyes slid open... and what I saw took a moment to process.

​The soldier next to me had frozen as he fell, and his round, mirror-like shield faced me. It was carved with hundreds of intricate Dyonics; they were prayers to Ona, some for protection, others for strength, most for peace. My eyes darted over them briefly. I didn’t remember having ever seen such Dyonics before... and yet I understood them. I understood them as if I’d read them all my life. I felt my eyebrows furrow as my own reflection came into focus from behind the markings...

​I gasped. The person in the reflection...

"​She isn’t me!"

​I blinked and stared, lips parted slightly. But how can this be...? I looked closer, neck craning toward the shield. Then, slowly, my eyes began to narrow...

She looked very much like me, yes... We had the same high cheekbones, long nose, and upward tilting eyes. But her frame, though slight, was much leaner than mine, and had seen more sun. Her hair was black, but solidly so, and her lips were natural and pink, albeit a little thin. But the greatest difference: her eyes. Brown. Definitely not mine.

​A clean, straight cut split my nose and forehead, slowly exuding hot, wormy blood tendrils. I watched them snake lazily across my lips and cheek as an understanding began to form slowly in my mind.

And then, in a sudden burst of comprehension...

​I knew

​So I wasn’t afraid when the world burst back into life. I wasn’t afraid when Cauldebron’s sword plunged toward my face again. I wasn’t afraid.

Everything was going to be fine.

TO BE CONTINUED...
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