Spilled

The wind tore Ylfa’s hair back as she clutched Eny with trembling arms, her own body secured against Jere’s chest. Blood still trickled down her skin, though the flow had begun to slow. She felt weak - drained - but not in danger of collapsing. Not yet.

Her mind, however, was chaos.

Questions whirled too fast to grasp.
Kaleo, in the human palace? Yejide - who was she, and how had she paralysed her? Why did Eny remember nothing? How had Jere defeated Jaka?
A thousand more pressed in, each one heavier than the last.

For now she could only hold Eny close and stay quiet, letting the world slip by far beneath them. She kept her eyes closed, trying to steady her breathing, letting herself feel the warmth of her sleeping daughter.

Then Jere banked gently, shifting course. Her eyes flew open, voice trembling.

“J-Jere? Where are we going?”

He stared ahead, expression unreadable.

“I don’t know. But there’s no village to go back to.”

She followed his gaze - and her breath shattered.

A massive column of smoke curled up from the forested valley, darkening the morning sky. The village itself wasn’t visible yet, but the smoke alone told her everything.

“No.” Her jaw tightened. “Keep going. I want to see.”

He glanced down at her, worry carved plainly across his features.

“But what about Eny…”

Eny was fast asleep, her tiny snores whisked away by the wind. Jere hesitated. Ylfa’s glare allowed no argument.

He exhaled and nodded.
“Alright. But don’t blame me if we see something… traumatic.”

Ylfa held Eny closer, one hand shielding the girl’s head from the wind.

“I won’t. This is my selfish idea. Thank you.”

He nodded again, wings angling as they descended toward the valley. Slowly, deliberately, he reduced his speed until they were gliding.

Ylfa’s heart went cold.

The village was aflame - completely. No house stood untouched. Even their small home on the outskirts was nothing but a collapsed, smoldering skeleton. Ylfa forced herself not to look at it; her wardrobe meant nothing. The villagers did.

She squinted, straining to see through the dense smoke. Jere didn’t have to strain.

“You don’t want to go down there,” he murmured. “It’s brutal.”

She swallowed. Her bleeding had stopped, but her stomach twisted.

“I want to. Take us down.”

He obeyed, circling slowly as more details emerged.

“Are the culprits still there?” she asked.

“No.”

“Good. How many are still alive?”

A pause.

“... I can’t tell.”

A shiver ran through her. She braced herself, though she knew no amount of preparation could possibly be enough.

Jere’s wings beat softly as they descended, gliding into the village square. He tried to land gently, careful not to wake Eny.

The square was empty.
Only the crackle of fire broke the silence.

Jere lowered Ylfa to the ground. She adjusted Eny on her shoulder, then turned-

-and froze.

Bodies. Everywhere.

Blood congealed in the dirt. Severed limbs lay discarded like butchered scraps. Heads rested meters away from their bodies. Organ pieces, indistinguishable, glistened among the ashes.

But the worst were the disemboweled bodies, torn open, intestines spilled across the earth, the dead lying in their own blood.

Men. Women.
Children.

No one had been spared.

Ylfa forced her gaze away, but there was no direction free of carnage. Each face she recognized hurt more than the last. Tears stung her eyes and quickly overflowed.

She followed Jere through the streets, silently praying they wouldn’t find what they most feared.

Then Jere stopped abruptly.

He turned and grabbed her hand.

“Don’t go that way.”

Ylfa stiffened.

“Why not?”

Jere’s voice dropped to a pained whisper.

“Effie’s round there.”

Ylfa’s eyes widened - then she tore free of Jere’s grasp and hurried around the corner.

She immediately wished she hadn’t.

Effie’s rabbit ears hung limp, her body slumped against the wall of a building. Her head was nearly severed, attached by only a few centimeters of skin, tilted forward so that it dangled against her chest like some grotesque ornament. The blood that had once flowed from her like a fountain had long dried, crusting across her clothes and turning them the colour of old rust. A child lay on her lap, equally still, as if Effie had tried to shield her in her final moments.

Ylfa froze. She stared at the corpse, unable to move, tears slipping silently down her cheek. Jere stepped beside her - just in time to catch a flicker of movement he reacted too late to stop.

Eny gasped.

Ylfa snapped out of her shock but moved too slowly to cover the girl’s eyes.

Her small voice came out in a tremble.

“E… Auntie Effie?”

Ylfa swept her into her arms, pressing the child’s face into her shoulder, holding her head down, whispering with the last threads of strength she had left.

“It’s okay… it’s okay… it’s just a dream…”

But it was far too late. Eny’s wails burst out in raw, shaking sobs - sounds only a child could make. Ylfa wanted to cry with her, but nothing came out. Only tears.

Gently, Jere touched her hand.

“We should keep moving.”

She nodded numbly and let him guide her away. They continued down the ruined street - until a faint groan drifted through the air.

No words passed between them.

They broke into a run.

They weaved between half-collapsed houses until they found the source - Chav, lying in the middle of the street in a darkening pool of his own blood. They reached him quickly. Jere dropped beside him, checked the wound, and very quickly realized there was nothing he could do. He stood up.

Chav’s face twisted with pain. A spear wound gaped in his abdomen. Ylfa looked horrified - but before she could speak, his eyes snapped open.

A single, rasping laugh escaped him.

“Heh. Of course you return after the danger’s passed…”

Ylfa knelt beside him instantly.

“What happened?”

Chav’s grin turned wry.

“The Kingdom found us… and wiped us out.”

He coughed, blood painting the corners of his mouth.

“We knew we were in danger. Shame it had to happen now…”

His voice weakened, each breath shallower than the last.

Ylfa kept speaking, forcing herself through the shock. “Is everyone dead?”

“I’d assume so.”

She clenched her jaw. “What are we supposed to do?”

He gave a faint shrug. “You’re the powerful one here. Do whatever. If there’s anything left in the village, it’s yours.”

But looking at the flames devouring home after home, it was clear nothing would survive.

Ylfa’s expression softened, almost fragile. “Chav… was I ever going to be healed?”

He grinned weakly. “Nah. No one here can… could, heal something like that.”

She swallowed hard. “Then why make me learn sign language?”

Another shrug. “At the time, it kept you from attacking us. And… a prophecy I heard as a kid.”

Frustration cracked through her voice. “What prophecy?”

His eyelids fluttered.

“A great silence… one that will come soon. Only those who stay connected will survive.”

He smiled faintly.

“I thought if I had Effie teach you… you could teach others. But I ignored the real danger, closer than any prophecy from a babbling old man.”

He exhaled, long and weary.

“I do hope there’s an afterlife…”

Then his body went still. His chest stopped rising. His limbs slackened. Eny’s crying swelled into the morning as Ylfa stumbled back and found Jere’s hand again. She squeezed it tightly, grounding herself, then nodded once.

“Okay. I’ve had enough. Let’s go.”

He nodded, gathered her into his arms, and with a powerful beat of his wings shot skyward. The burning village shrank beneath them. They were once again alone - no home to return to, no clear path ahead, no true goal in sight.