Unia: Echo of Harmony

Outside, the night air was rent by a powerful shock wave, a thunderous roar that surged through the village like an angry beast unleashed. It mingled with the screams of the terrified, a cacophony of fear and confusion that echoed off the crumbling walls. As the ground shuddered under the force of the explosion, a thick cloud of dust billowed up, obscuring sight and smothering the cries for help. The crowd that had gathered, seeking solace in numbers, was scattered like leaves in a storm. Men, women, and children were thrown asunder, their forms disappearing into the swirling maelstrom of debris and despair that swept through the narrow streets, leaving nothing but chaos in its wake.

Beneath the cruel debris of what once was a sanctuary of warmth and laughter, Tabitha found herself ensnared by the remnants of catastrophe. The fragment, a cruel vestige of the building's former glory, pressed mercilessly against her frame, pinning her to the cold, unforgiving earth. Each breath was a battle, the weight crushing the air from her lungs, threatening to seal her fate beneath this makeshift tomb.

Yet in the scant light, a slender thread of hope shimmered faintly within reach. Fueled by a surge of desperate strength, Tabitha's face twisted into a grimace of resolve as she stretched her battered limbs toward the elusive promise of release. Her fingers, driven by the raw instinct of survival, strained toward the thread, each small advance a hard-won battle in her personal war against the suffocating despair.

As the mass above her groaned ominously, sinister creaks echoed around her, whispering threats of imminent collapse, and pain surged through Tabitha's frame. Yet, this pain steeled her resolve rather than quenching it. Emitting a guttural roar, more primal and profound than any form of speech, she reached with all her might, her fingertips finally grazing the salvation she so fervently sought.

Tabitha's will infused the soil through the slender thread, and it heeded her call. Softening like the flesh of ripe fruit, the earth beside the druidess relented and began to swallow the debris that had crushed her moments before. Gradually, the oppressive weight rolled off her battered body, sinking into the forgiving soil as if drawn down by unseen hands, and finally, the heavy object was entirely consumed by the ground.

Finally freed from captivity, Tabitha struggled to her knees. Gasping for breath, she swept her eyes across the ruins where Raquel's home and the neighboring houses once stood. What had been a vibrant stretch of the village, alive with the buzz of community and warmth, was now reduced to a scattered array of debris along the lane.

Upon the wreckage, a colossal bird, one of the monstrous combatants from the sky, writhed in agony. Each convulsion of its immense form sent waves of dust and debris cascading through the air, shrouding the vulnerable figures below in a grim veil of ruin.

Survivors, their faces canvases of fear and shock, moved like shadows through the debris. Some knelt in the wreckage, their bodies curved in sorrow beside the broken, as they tenderly caressed the lifeless hands of loved ones, murmuring soft words of farewell into the stillness. Others stood with faces turned skyward, their eyes glistening with a sense of betrayal, their prayers floating futilely into the indifferent sky.

Nearby, lay the lifeless form of Luis, a village man, impaled grotesquely against a shattered post, his stillness a stark contrast to the chaos around him. The one who sought safety in the presence of a prophetess now frozen in an eternal silence.

The piercing cries of a woman sliced through the turmoil, drawing Tabitha's gaze to a figure navigating the labyrinth of destruction. A woman clutched her child's distorted figure, navigating through the twisted remains with cautious steps. Her cries are a haunting melody that intertwined with the groans of the wounded and the silent screams of the dead scattered around.

A knot of dread tightened in Tabitha's stomach, the terror for her son's safety igniting a frantic chill within her. Her eyes scoured the chaotic landscape, searching for any sign of her son. It was then a faint, muffled cry pierced the veil of destruction, pulling at the strings of her heart. With a surge of maternal resolve, Tabitha dragged herself towards the sound, her body protesting each movement with weariness and pain.

As she drew closer to the source of the sound, Tabitha came upon a formidable fragment of the house, now a horizontal wall standing between her and the faint, desperate cries of her son. Gathering every ounce of her remaining strength, Tabitha pressed against the cold, unyielding mass. Despite her efforts, the wooden slab stood firm, an immovable mountain against her weakened frame. Yet with each attempt, her resolve only hardened; her hands, though scraped and bleeding, maintained a firm grip on the wood as she pushed with a desperation fueled by a mother's love.

At last, the seemingly unbearable mass groaned, and her hands, slick with blood, lost their grip, sending Tabitha tumbling to the cold, unforgiving ground. As she looked up, the young man's stoic face came into view. Miguel, his visage marked by the trials of the shockwave—blood tracing lines from the abrasions on his face and hands—appeared beside her. Despite the evident pain, his expression was resolute, his calm rose above the chaos around them.

With a guttural roar fueled by desperation, Miguel joined Tabitha's struggle, heaving his full weight against the debris. This primal roar intertwined with the druidess's anguished cries of pain and hope, echoing above the ominous groan of the wooden slab as it began to shift.

The muffled cries of the children, barely perceptible moments before, swelled with urgency, revealing Daniel and Rigel ensnared in a pit of earth as pliable as porridge—a hollow shaped by the young druid's desperate struggle to survive. Exhausted yet determined, Rigel managed to keep them both above the muck. With one arm she battled to stay afloat, while with the other, she firmly grasped Daniel by the horns, anchoring him amidst his frantic thrashing in the thick, enveloping mud, ensuring he did not sink.

Miguel reached into the viscous earth and hauled the children from the clutches of the ground, setting them firmly back on solid earth. Daniel, smeared with grime, launched himself into his mother's waiting arms, his tears mingling with the dirt on his cheeks. Tabitha, her heart swelling with relief and pride, enveloped her son in an embrace that fused joy and relief with a mother's boundless love. "How did you do it, Daniel? You are amazing!" she praised, pulling Daniel into a tight embrace to savor the warmth of his presence. However, this fleeting comfort was quickly snuffed out by the icy gusts that swept through the air.

The gargantuan bird, previously grounded and writhing in agony, let out a heart-wrenching, pitiful wail and took flight, its vast wings beat heavily against the tumultuous air, casting a fierce gale that whipped through the village. The wind, laden with the sharp, earthy scent of blood, lashed at Tabitha, stinging her face with debris and the coarse chill of the night.

Tabitha, holding Daniel tightly to her in a protective embrace, tracked the wounded creature's ascent with a mix of awe and concern; the bird, majestic even in its pain, limped across the sky, its wings flapping unevenly as it struggled to gain altitude. Hot on its tail, the formidable four-winged predator launched into pursuit, its massive form slicing through the clouds with predatory precision.

As the furious dance of the wind, born from the winged creature's powerful flaps, subsided, Tabitha gently brushed the gritty residue from Daniel's face with the back of her palm. Her words, a gentle murmur lost amidst the remnants of the storm, "Are you hurt? Is everything alright?" Her touch, though gentle, was fraught with a mother's acute vigilance for any concealed wounds.

Daniel, his face streaked with mud, tears, and specks of his mother's blood, gave a small nod. Relief briefly illuminated Tabitha's features—a spark of hope that endured despite the encroaching chaos. Even in the eye of the storm, the fire of a mother's heart blazed with undiminished fervor, so long as her child drew breath.

Nearby, however, the fire within another heart—fragile and faltering—was quenched by the cruel reality. "Mom?" The word emerged first as a whisper, lost on the wind, then surged louder, imbued with desperation and the sharp sting of tears. The plaintive cry sliced through the turmoil, summoning Tabitha's attention with a surge of foreboding.

"Oh no," Tabitha whispered, crawling towards the ruins of what was once Raquel's vibrant home, her hands scraping against the cold, unforgiving ground. A brief interlude of sweet naivety yielded to the harsh embrace of actuality. The surrounding wails of pain and despair, momentarily subdued during the fleeting peace of her reunion with her son, now flooded Tabitha's ears and mind with renewed intensity, echoing the grim reality that shrouded them all. "Oh no, no, no... please!" The plea fell from her lips, a desperate invocation to the indifferent heavens, as she navigated through a landscape strewn with the dead and the grieving.

Miguel, his face etched with the grime of dust, sweat, and blood, clambered up the ruins and tore into the debris with ferocity. His hands, hurling aside shattered tiles and fractured stones, suffered from the relentless grind; wood and stone chafed the skin from his palms, leaving them raw and bleeding. Yet, as he delved deeper, his initial fervor began to ebb. His expression darkened, transforming slowly into a visage marked by profound dread and disgust.

Tabitha's hands trembled, racked by both pain and a deep, gnawing anxiety as she ascended the chaotic heap of debris. The cruel, jagged remnants of shattered stone and splintered wood clawed at her palms, eliciting a sharp wince with each precarious step she took. Yet, any concern for her own throbbing wounds quickly dissolved into a profound guilt when Miguel's firm grasp pulled her up onto the summit of the debris, and her gaze caught the scene hidden beneath the wreckage. Amidst the chaos of broken timbers and crushed stone, a ghostly silhouette emerged, distinctly human in its poignant stillness. "Oh, Heavens, my girl..." Tabitha whispered, her voice reduced to a mere wisp of its former authority, trembling with sorrow.