Author: Azunite PM
Sometimes, death averts the greatest danger...Rated: Fiction T - English - Fantasy/Horror - Chapters: 6 - Words: 22,020 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 3 - Follows: 1 - Published: 10-23-10 - Status: Complete - id: 6420065
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The few blissful moments of respite ended. As the barrier flickered into non-existence, jagged lightning began to fall upon the land. It had struck dangerously close to Scorpio once, which prompted him to get up and run for shelter. Uriziel had once again turned gray, and the jewel in its middle black and dull. It would still make a splendid weapon, thought Scorpio, and he'd sorely need it, now that the only way was out.
The scorched trees on the valley below still smoked. Scorpio could make out human forms splayed on the ground, with scorched flesh that gave out a horrid reek. And there, midst the black figures, he saw a sharp face, with a tall, bald forehead. The man wore the Ore Barons' armour, and gave no sign of noticing him. Raven whirled and marched back into the cave.
He let out a long sigh as he reached the safety of the cave underneath. Watching the lightning bolts crash against the building on the lake, and into the lake itself, Scorpio thought about his actions.
The barrier was gone. Freedom lay ahead. But still a sense of unease squirmed inside Scorpio, making him twist his lips as though he'd tasted something bitter. Would human beings prove better hunters than the monsters? Most likely, thought Scorpio. He sighed.
The crack of lightning dwindled…and the sky above took upon itself a soft crimson cloak.
During his stay inside the cave, no zombie reached out to him, setting arrows and loosing them in the air. A part of Scorpio hoped they'd all died along with their master, but there was no making sure. His safety would be at risk whilst he slept, and bearing that in mind, he started walking.
For the night, the Old Camp would do. He'd return to his bed in the Inner Ring, and sleep there until morning. Perhaps Lester was there, waiting for him. Scorpio had begun missing him, though he still wasn't sure about calling him friend. Lester was no more than he was: a convict, a prisoner, an outlaw. They'd face the same people, and the same judgment. He didn't know what plan of action lay beyond the morn, but he didn't much care.
He realised it was the first time he'd seen a truly clear sky in years. It was beautiful.