The platform atop was narrow, unlike the front-entrance which allotted the knights to stand in post. Throwing himself over, on the other-side, he found himself. The outside sanctity of the Unprotected Wilderness was ahead. The sickly grass and dead trees never seeming more inviting to him. Decaying nature never so filled with life.
But, then, the sound of screeching in an unrelenting tone, like a final bird's dying cry lasting forever. His eyes took a final look at the Italina he left behind; his curiosity had turned into obsession at the anomaly bestowed upon them.
Brutus laid, in fear, his body, like everything else, distinguishable as a darker shade. A shade like the buildings.
Brutus crawled away backward, like The Woman did from him earlier.
Poetic justice, to some. Secrat felt a small inkling of guilt that evaporated like water beneath the sun. Guilt would inevitably die by the hands of fear.
Copé looked down. Down below him. Off the wall. The large carriage stayed, stopped in-front of the wall with bowman perched and shooting. Though, their arrows were never high enough. And when they did, Copé found himself easily able to evade their slow attempts.
Secrat stared deeply into the blank space forward. Where it all started, it'd seem, the brightest flare. The spark.
Until, at last, he saw the depiction of a dark figure.
A figure ripped out from the aura, its own full-color. Leaving the background just as. The figure's stature looked that of a strong warrior, that being from a time when warriors still existed. Not a Messenger Boy Knight or a One Who Pried on the Weak, but a Beast in silver armor. A muscular frame and a height more exaggerated than attainable. Even taller than The Giant from The Pub, and by more than a few feet.
His gauntlets and greaves, emerald, and his silver helm with a likewise comb. Those aspects blended with the scenery behind and around him. It seemed like he was a part of it, in some way. Somehow.
His eyes had a fiery orange like a roaring flame and his body seemed to visibly shake. Not himself, not the way Copé's hands shook, but as if he was an unsettled creature, uncontrolled and without abidance to what must be. A dizzy appearance that made it look like there was more than one of him. The Knight, or The Creature, whichever fit better, withdrew its blade from out of its scabbard. It too, looked to be on fire.
The Creature made its first step. And vanished.
But not vanished. It hadn't vanished.
Copé realized as his eyes adjusted. The atmosphere clogging his perception. The Creature simply moved THAT fast. It appeared and disappeared. Appeared and disappeared. Each time, moving closer and closer toward Brutus, who acted afraid. Not acted. WAS afraid. With reason to be,
Brutus climbed to his feet, limping away weakly, but there would be no escape. The Creature met him; its sword laid on his shoulder while he stood. A plaintive cry came next. The searing and blistering pain of the flaming blade. Brutus dropped back down again, slowly. Everything remained its elongated pace. Everything except The Creature. Its speed unhinged.
The Creature's helm pointed down at Brutus and Copé saw the Guards nearing to him. Brutus would offer no fight against them. And, in the next moment, Copé watched as The Creature's eyes jerked up, beaming at The Thief.
Frightened, but not petrified, Secrat tried his hand at descending down the outside wall. His vision obscured, with little flickers of color. It didn't ease The Thief, however. The Creature's residual afterimage etched into the inside of his eyelids.
He stopped for a moment, rubbing his eyes with one hand, but the burn was intensified. His exposure to it only worsened the agony. The burn became immense, and his eyes watered terribly, but as they leaked down his face, they bled a bright green.
His scared flinch cost him his balance, and he found himself descending helplessly down. The fall didn't scare him. His mind was elsewhere.
Traumatized elsewhere. But he knew the landing would kill him.
His hand reached for a ledge and found one. He felt the momentum spiral with his body, and while he no longer fell toward the ground, the momentum shifted and had him kneeing the wall.
At once, he lost his grip and slammed his back against the ground of the Unprotected Wilderness.
The fall wasn't too far, but it all happened too fast to fully know how much pain he was in.
His mind bled the damned color. The Knight, or Creature with the flaming sword. That's where his mind belonged.
The Knight with the Flaming Sword.
The Red Flux & the Wunderkind THief
Chapter One (1 - 2 - 3)