Knights of Cydonia
A fanfiction by Velkyn Karma
Summary: It started as a simple mission...just a message to deliver, supplies to gather, and some mountaineering. But after an unexpected attack leaves Sain wounded and days from help, Kent is forced to race against all odds to save the life of his friend before everything is gone.
Note that this is not a pairing story, just a simple story about friendship against impossible odds...were I in such a situation, I'd do anything and everything in my power to save my friend, too.
Disclaimer: I do not own, or pretend to own, the Fire Emblem game series or any of its subsequent characters, plots or other ideas. That right belongs solely to Nintendo and Intelligent Systems. The only thing here that's mine is the idea for the story.
"Honey, I forgot to duck."
-Regan, assassination attempt on March 30, 1981
Kent sighed and mentally calculated—for the fifteenth time that hour—the remaining days before he and Sain reached the Lady Lyndis and her party once again, trying desperately to ignore his parter-in-arms' prattle.
The two were traveling through the mountain passes on the edges of Bern, returning after a rendezvous with some non-combative members of their party left just at the border for precautionary purposes, as well as the few fighters left to guard them. While the Lady Lyndis, the Lords Eliwood and Hector, and some of their warriors had gone on into Bern to collect information on the Black Fang, the remaining members of their growing army—as well as their supply train, with Merlinus—had been left on the edges of Bern's border until the all-clear was pronounced by the intruding party. The two groups were now split by a string of mountains, and each group had been left with at least one flying messenger—Heath had traveled with the Lords and Lady, knowing Bern well, while the pegasus knights remained behind with the supply train to guard it—to cross the mountains and deliver information back and forth.
But Heath had been occupied in the fore-party recently, scouting ahead now that they drew closer to the swarms of wyvern knights that clouded the mountain peaks. And with Fiora and Florina decidedly far away, with mountains between them and their partners on the other side, there was little contact between the two parties for days. Supplies had been beginning to run low, and finally Eliwood had been forced to send ground soldiers back through the mountain passes for weaponry, food, and other necessary items.
When looking for suitable candidates, Lyn had suggested her own knights, Kent and Sain. Both were reliable, experienced, could look after themselves, and would be able to carry supplies back on their horses. Eliwood had agreed, Lyn asked the two men to complete the mission, and Kent, noble knight that he was, would never have refused his Lady a request, especially one so important.
Now he glanced back at Sain irritably, a few paces behind him. He should have known by now, after knowing the emerald knight since childhood, that the man could ramble for hours about the 'lovely lasses' he'd met recently at the tavern, or along the journey, or even the ones in their own camp, but somehow that knowledge had slipped his mind when Kent agreed to go on this mission with his friend. He wished keenly that he'd been able to refuse the request, for Sain had taken it upon himself to fill the silent void of the otherwise quiet journey over the mountains to their supply train with his chattering, stories, boasts and song—all five days of it.
Three days into the journey back, Sain was still cheerfully fulfilling his duty to utterly slaughter the serenity of the mountain passes, and Kent was sure that if his fellow cavalier continued much longer, he might suddenly 'slip' off the next steep mountain slope they happened to pass.
"And my darling Rose," the emerald knight was now chattering (loudly of course, Kent thought irritably; he didn't know how to keep his damn voice down!), "why Kent, she was so utterly perfect, a vision from the heavens. Not even her namesake could outmatch her sheer beauty! But so shy, such a--"
"Sain!" Kent finally snapped, cutting his friend off in mid-sentence. "Do you plan to bring an entire Wing of Wyvern knights down on our heads? We're in enemy territory and you're all but calling to them, the way you speak so loudly!"
"Just passing time," Sain answered with a laugh. "And with all this overgrowth, there's no way the wyvern could even see us down here. Don't worry so much, Kent, or you'll be gray before your time!" He laughed again and kicked his horse forward a few paces to draw level with his best friend, flashing a grin as he did so.
Kent did have to admit he had a point; their current path through the mountains led them through the trees on the side of the mountains, and any wyvern passing overhead would not be able to see them, or attack well through the branches. This was by no means a reason to throw caution to the winds, however, and Kent was determined to be careful.
"Nevertheless," he said sharply, giving Sain a serious look, "they'll still be able to hear you, and if they know our position, they can simply wait until a more favorable moment to attack. We need to return to Lady Lyndis alive, remember."
"Of course, of course," Sain sighed, shaking his head in amused exasperation at his friend's seriousness, but he lowered his voice obligingly. If Kent had hoped his comment would shut the scoundrel knight up completely, however, he was sorely disappointed.
They were close to the peak of the slopes by midday, and Kent planned their decent down the mountainside accordingly. They would have to be careful for the next few days, for the rocky passes on the other side of the mountain were treacherous with a misplaced foot or hoof, and their paths would have to be picked carefully. However, with careful riding and planning, they would reach the bottom of the mountain within two and a half days, and from there the Lady Lyndis' camp was only a few hours' ride away. They were almost there, and within a few days Kent would be able to free himself from the never-ending babble of his friend—for a little while, anyway.
They paused for a quick meal in a small, shady clearing just inside the trees they had been traveling through all morning, then mounted their horses and continued from the grove, skirting the peak to begin the descent. Kent kept his eye on the paths, picked their way carefully among the rocks, and did his best to ignore his friend.
Sain continued on, seemingly ignorant of his friend's own ignorance, sighing wistfully at the memory of the latest woman on his mind as he gazed up at the sky. He had given his horse free rein to pick its way among the rocks after Kent's own steed, but wasn't terribly worried—like the two men, the horses had known each other since their first moments in the stables of Caelin, and through battle after battle had trained together enough to know their business as well as their masters.
That training and free rein was all that saved them, for Sain's horse paused suddenly in its movements, ears swiveling as it tossed its head anxiously. Sain was broken from his reverie and rambling instantly at the horse's lack of movement; despite his often roguish behavior among his friends, he was a skilled cavalier and understood the signs of danger when he saw them.
Unstrapping his lance from the saddle at his side, he hissed warningly, "Kent!"
The redhead was aware of the abrupt break in his friend's chatter, as well as the sudden, far more serious call, and he drew his sword from its saddle sheath quickly. His own horse was skittering anxiously now, and he began to back the creature away from the steep, dangerously rocky slopes to better fighting ground.
Too late. He had barely started moving before dark shapes swooped from behind the large rocky outcroppings, launching into the air with blood-curdling cries. Kent glanced up quickly, swallowing a curse, for eight wyvern knights wheeled above them, their lances and armor glinting in the afternoon sun as they twirled and dived over their prey like hungry vultures.
Two dove immediately for Kent, still caught in unfavorable ground. His horse, experienced in battle and now calmed by its master's commands, leaped aside to avoid the strikes, and Kent lashed at one of the attacking lances to knock it aside harmlessly. Sain, with a battle cry, kicked his horse forward to aid his friend, hefting his lance and lunging it at the soft membranes of the wyvern's wings. Its rider spun it aside to avoid the blow and swooped into the air again, unable to injure the blood-and-gold armored knight.
Kent nodded briskly to Sain in thanks, but needed no other action, and neither expected it. Both were experienced in fighting as a pair, and both knew the other would cover for him in a moment of weakness, should it come. But both also knew it was best to avoid weakness entirely, and so, as Sain spun his lance with a poetic challenge to the wyvern flying above them, drawing their attention, Kent glanced around the rocky outcroppings for a fast escape. If they stayed in the open ground, the wyvern knights would have the advantage of flight, and without decent footing both he and Sain would be lost.
Another three wyvern dived towards them, mouths open and screeching, fangs bared, and both knights rose to the challenge. Sain lunged his lance forward once again at one of the approaching flying lizards, cutting a light gouge down the creature's armored neck as his horse leaped nimbly aside. It did little damage—wyvern were especially tough creatures, and only a score to the fragile wing membranes or the soft underbelly would truly damage them—but it roared in distraction and twisted away from the irritant, soaring back up into the sky. A second screamed towards him, and this one was not so easy to avoid—his horse skittered wildly, kicked frantically at the gaping, horned head, and Sain only barely managed to bring his lance around to puncture the creature's exposed wing membrane.
It screeched, but its momentum was too great, and as it moved forward the lance blade sliced a tear clear through to the edge of the wyvern's fragile wing, Sain wrenching sideways to avoid the nasty claws that tipped even the extra appendages. It gave an almighty scream and writhed in the air, nearly bucking its rider despite the complex straps that bound him to the dragon-saddle, before crashing to the rocky ground, sending boulders spilling below down the dangerous slopes.
The wyvern continued roaring, thrashing, and Sain and his mount bolted before they were smashed by the battering wings or lashing spiked tail; the creature's crash had damaged them both enough as it was, and both horse and rider were bruised and cut by the first thrashings and scattered rocks. The emerald knight glanced around quickly in the confusion, searching for his friend as he whipped his lance to bear once more, prepared for the six wyvern still soaring above.
Kent was just disengaging from the third of the wyvern that had attacked them, wiping blood from his eyes with his free hand as he steered his horse with his knees. The battle had begun too quickly, and he'd had no time to switch to his lance for the fight—a much more favorable weapon for the distances it could reach, and far more useful against flying foe than his sword.
As such he'd been forced into close combat with the wyvern, and the creature was as nasty as its master, battering and slashing at its prey while its rider lunged again and again with his steel-tipped lance. Kent's horse had skittered and dipped to the best of its ability, bringing its own trusted rider closer to the beast he fought, and while Kent had been able to plunge his sword deep into the wyvern's ribcage as a result, neither steed nor cavalier had escaped that encounter without being knocked around a bit. Still, he had taken worse, and while the wyvern rider recovered from the sudden loss of his mount Kent whirled, kicking his own steed towards the path he had spotted as the fight began.
"Sain! This way!" he called, waving his sword wildly, the blade flashing in the sunlight. Sain called in response, pounding after his friend, lance at the ready, and Kent led the way, knowing without a doubt that his friend followed.
The red-haired knight wished feverishly he'd had a chance to explore their new chosen path before rushing headlong down it as though part of the hell hunt, but there was little choice. It was reckless, foolish, asking for death, but if they stayed in place and avoided the paths, they would most certainly be dead. Six wyverns and two now-grounded knights against the two cavaliers were still terrible odds, and in open air they would die in minutes. So he lead the way, his horse screaming in protest but aware in its own way of the danger, and Sain followed behind, utterly trusting both his friend and his horse to get them to safety, watching over his shoulder with his lance ready.
They plunged down the slope rapidly, wyvern screeching after them, pebbles skittering before them, hoping against hope that the one wrong badly placed hoof it would take to kill them would never come. Kent kept his eyes ahead, grimacing slightly, wondering for a moment why he had never bothered to learn to use a bow—foolishness!--but disregarding it as he searched for a haven, some sort of cover, anything. He heard the screeching behind him, but did not bother to look back, trusting Sain to keep the reptiles off their backs long enough, just long enough...
There! Just a little to the east along the slope, the rocky outcropping grew denser, closer together, and provided some cover from the air. If they could reach it, their smaller, nimbler mounts would weave into the stone passages and be gone before the wyvern could find them. And Kent knew from memory that those dense stone outcroppings turned to forest further down, more shelter from the air. If they could only reach it...
"Ahead!" he roared over his shoulder, sparing as few words as possible, trying to keep his breath in the flight. "Follow me!" Sain yelled back his recognition of Kent's call, batting a well-flung javelin aside with his own lance, and Kent turned back to the task at hand, guiding his horse carefully towards the outcropping.
He wasn't sure that they would make it. The paths became more treacherous as he moved, and he was sure his horse would twist and stumble, that Sain's would crash into his, that they would fly down the rocks to be broken and ripped to shreds to the jeers of the sky riders and the screams of the wyvern. But it was as if the hands of St. Elimine guided the horse's hooves, and they all but flew down the slope, blasting into the safe haven of rocky walls and ceilings so quickly they left nothing but massive clouds of dust in their wake. The screams of frustrated riders and hungry wyvern filled their ears for but a moment, but then they, too, were left behind as the knights continued their headlong rush to freedom.
Horses and riders kept on, fueled by adrenaline alone, until nearly half an hour later the steeds slowed to an exhausted halt in the shade of one of the denser rock formations. The cavaliers swung from their mounts, panting and sweating just as heavily as the creatures, and all four fell into an exhausted slump for some much-needed rest.
"We made it," Kent rasped, finally, after regaining his breath some five minutes later. "Barely, but we did."
The danger over, Sain's good humor began to return, and he gave a laugh that seemed half a cough. "What an adventure!" he half whispered, unable to talk in his normal, loud voice after the combination of screaming and panting. "A most impressive tale to share with the ladies once we return to our fine and noble camp."
Kent coughed slightly, then spoke. "Idiot!" he growled, his normally controlled temper flaring after their close encounter. "Must you flirt with everything...including death? I told you, your loud rambling would bring the wyvern riders of Bern down on us, but did you listen to me?"
"But it wasn't a full Wing," the charismatic knight responded, surprisingly good cheer in his hoarse voice. "You were wrong about that." He pressed a hand to his stomach, just underneath the breastplate of his armor. "And we're not dead either. You got that wrong too."
Kent sighed, but had to admit the situation could have been a lot worse. They could have died, but instead they had escaped with their lives, and, from a quick glance at himself, his friend, and the horses, relatively unscathed—mostly small cuts and bruises, and those would heal quickly--
He frowned suddenly, glancing at the hand on Sain's abdomen. He hadn't noticed before, since the emerald knight wore a black shirt beneath his armor, but now the contrast of welling blood over his fingers was unmistakable. With rare exceptions, superficial cuts did not bleed like that. "Sain? Are you injured badly?"
"Only a scratch!" the optimistic knight answered immediately, but now that the adrenaline rush was beginning to wear off, that 'scratch' had one hell of a throb to it.
Kent fixed him with a flat, penetrating look, and Sain was unable to hide a grimace as a shot of pain stabbed through his stomach. "Very well then," he admitted, "a bit more of a scratch. A badge of valor then, a testimony to my brave and noble deeds as a Knight of Caelin! Ah, how the lasses back at camp will enjoy the tales of my heroic actions, and the proof of my determination and loyalty!" He sighed dramatically, and at the same time his fingers dug a little harder into the wound.
Kent, ever observant, was also no fool, and spotted the movement. "That needs to be treated, immediately," he stated, composed now as his breathing began to return to normal. "How did you get it?"
Sain paused and considered. Truth to tell, the fight had happened so fast he really couldn't remember. After a moment he spoke, his voice more serious and thoughtful than it was previously, but still hoarse from yelling, and now tinged slightly with nearly-concealed pain. "The wyvern," he murmured, after a moment. "It must have been the wyvern I downed. When it landed its tail was lashing about wildly. It must have caught me, but in the rush I didn't notice. Oh!" he called, and his voice grew more dramatic again, "woe is me, attacked by the very wyvern themselves...but such an amazing knight I am, to take such a devastating blow and never notice the pain!" his voice hitched slightly and he grimaced as he exhaled, jarring the wound in his belly.
"Wyvern wounds are serious," Kent reprimanded, standing wearily to retrieve some supplies from his pack. "It needs to be treated now, or it will spread disease faster than normal wounds received from steel." His hands emerged from the pack with a small roll of bandages and the healing salve that he always carried with him, just in case. While the camp had healers, it never hurt to be prepared, and sometimes Serra or Priscilla were so busy with the more dangerous wounds that it would be a while before they could treat the less severely injured.
"You're too serious," Sain complained in exasperation, but he wasn't about to argue against treating the wound—with each passing second it throbbed more and more painfully. He began to unstrap his green and gold-trimmed breastplate, drawing up his black shirt to expose the wound in question.
Kent grimaced upon examining it, and even Sain, able to feel the pain, was surprised at the extent of the wound's damage. It wasn't dangerously deep, thank Elimine, or it would have pierced vital organs, and no matter the speed at which they rode Sain would have been lost then, two days from the care of the clerics. But it was still deep, slicing through muscle and skin, tantalizingly close to his vitals, and it bled rapidly. And when Kent wiped away the excess blood, using some of the bandages and a few drops of carefully conserved water from his water skin, he found the edges of the gash already beginning to grow red and inflamed from infection.
"How is it?" Sain hissed slightly, flinching a little as his fellow knight brushed carefully at the wound. No matter how gently the redhead cleared the blood away, the wound was still highly sensitive and growing more painful by the minute.
Kent sighed. "You're lucky you're not dead," he stated flatly, as he continued to clean the injury. "A demon's luck, you have—this missed your vitals by only a few hairs." Sain grinned slightly around his grimace, beginning to make another dramatic remark, but his friend cut him off. "But it's already growing infected," he muttered. "Damn wyvern spines. We need to get you to Serra or Priscilla as quickly as possible. Even to one of the other magic users—anyone who knows something of healing."
"Surely it can't be that bad," Sain countered, with a hoarse chuckle. "Look how tiny it is! And I barely feel a thing," he added, through clenched teeth, completely destroying his bald-faced lie within seconds. Kent shook his head in exasperation and applied his salve carefully, then began binding the wound.
A few minutes later he stood, repacking the salve and bandages into his saddlebags once more before beginning to remove saddle and other burdens from his horse. Sain tucked his shirt neatly back into place (he was ever conscious about his looks, and stressed the importance of a neat and dashing noble knight, completely contradicting with his messy unkempt hair) and made as if to rise, but Kent gestured for him to sit again.
"Rest," he said sharply, as he placed the saddle quietly on the ground and removed the last of the supplies he'd been carrying. "Perhaps you don't feel a thing right now," he added, giving Sain a wry look, "but you will in a while, and you'll need to save your strength for then." Sain looked as if to protest, but at Kent's no-nonsense glare he gave another dramatic sigh and nodded.
"Alas! I can do nothing against your reasoning in my condition." He grinned again, the look dulled slightly by a twitch of pain, but at least, Kent noted somewhat dryly, he was still in as good a humor as ever.
"Of course," the blood-and-gold armored knight answered, sounding perfectly serious, as he turned to attend to Sain's horse.
They rested in the dense rock outcropping for an hour, Kent rubbing down the horses and murmuring reassuringly to them before sitting down across from Sain on one of the many large rocks, leaning back against a boulder to rest his back. Both of the cavaliers kept an eye on the skies as best as they could through the dense stone ceilings, and occasionally they could hear the scream of a wyvern over their position, but they were effectively concealed in their present location and tried not to worry too much. The horses, sensing wariness but not anxiety from their masters, remained much the same—watchful, but not panicked.
After an hour, in which all of them gained their breath and cooled their parched throats with what little water they had, Kent stood stiffly and began re-saddling the horses. The steeds were uncomplaining and submitted to the re-saddling quietly, though doubtless they wished to rest longer. But they understood the danger, and the quicker they were free of the mountains and back to camp, the safer they would be, and so they only tossed their heads slightly and kept their ears swerving for signs of the wyvern.
Sain slowly and painstakingly strapped his armor back on, carefully avoiding jarring his new wound too much, though Kent could see easily that too much movement about his waist and torso pained him. Still, he managed to return the emerald and gold breastplate to its rightful place without too much difficulty, and he only grimaced for a moment when he stood. Swinging into his saddle was a more difficult affair, and he could not manage it completely without a hiss, nearly inaudible as it was.
Still, Kent was observant, and he had been watching for such signs. Best to let Sain take it easy, he decided, as he swung up on his own mount and took the lead, guiding them through the dense rock paths.
The sun was long past its zenith by now, and mid afternoon was considering its slow transformation into evening. Kent kept his eye on the sun as best as he could through the cracks and spaces of the rock formations about them, trying to gage their location. The wild flight down the slopes had taken him away from the more familiar paths that he had traveled before, but he was confident he could find their way down the mountain and back to camp. Indeed, had it not been for Sain's injury, he would not have been concerned with rushing at all—they were not in want of food, for both could hunt, and it would have been best to move slowly and under cover to avoid the wyvern riders that were doubtless still out there.
Sain returned to his friendly chattering, hoping to break the eerie echoing silence and echoing of the horse's hooves as they clopped on the stone. But he was quieter now, his voice more subdued and hoarse, and broken occasionally with small grimaces as a particular jolt of his horse's movements shot too sharply into his gut. Still, despite his obvious discomfort, he spoke cheerfully of his valiant actions and the tales of his favorite hero—himself--that he would share with the lovely lasses once they had returned to Lyndis' Legion.
Kent, normally prone to ignoring Sain's rants—or possibly wishing to knock him about the head with his lance for them—now kept an ear on the rambling. It was certainly not for the content, for he'd had enough of Sain's stories of his own valiant deeds, and women, to last him the next six months. But he could gage Sain's condition by the number of breaks in his stories, or the hoarseness in his voice, and he needed to make sure his best friend did not overexert himself for the time being.
Eventually, as the sun's rays squeezing through the spaces of stone slid gracefully from bright sunshine to molten reds, oranges and pinks, Kent's eyes began to scour their path for some sort of shelter for the night. He found it shortly, ahead and to his left—a particular cropping of rocks and boulders, carved into a rocky slope face, created a natural cave with an equally natural ceiling that would protect them from the elements and provide a safe place to rest for man and beast alike.
He guided his mount over to the cave, and Sain's horse followed obediently—Kent was not entirely sure that Sain was guiding the creature anymore. The redhead swung down from his steed with practiced grace and examined the cavern carefully, making sure they were safe from unwanted animal visitors, but the rocky shelter had been abandoned for weeks from the look of it. The knight proclaimed it safe and turned just in time to see his fellow cavalier stumble down from his horse, a deep grimace on his face as he pressed his hands to his stomach.
Frowning, the red-clad knight stepped over to his friend, supporting him carefully and guiding him into the cave. He set him down against one cavern wall, ignoring Sain's feeble protests, and gave him a flat look as he spoke. "Stay here," he said simply. "Just rest. I'm going to gather enough supplies for us to light a proper fire to see by in here, and then I want to take a look at that injury again."
Sain looked like he was going to argue—dramatically, as always—but was halted abruptly with a grimace as his injury throbbed again. He sighed and leaned back gratefully against the stone at his back and nodded. "Alright, then. I'll wait here." Even in his pained state, he seemed intent on making the action sound like his decision. Kent gave a slight sigh of exasperation, but let Sain have his moment while he looked into more important things.
Finding sufficient kindling for a night's fire was difficult, but Kent managed before it grew too dark to see by outside, and an hour after they had stopped a flame was blazing merrily within the cavern, close to one edge of the cave. Kent unsaddled the horses once more, bringing their supplies inside to the back of their night's shelter, and then removed the bandages, salve and water as he once more examined Sain's injury.
He was appalled by what he saw. It had only been six or so hours, he estimated, since Sain had received the wound, but already it was festering badly, and the edges that had once shown only a mild indication of infection were now surrounded by angry, red, inflamed skin. The wound had not closed either, constantly jarred as it was by Sain's riding, and while the bandages had lessened the blood flow they were now damp and red. Kent frowned as he cleaned the wound of excess blood once more, applied the salve, and re-bandaged the injury. Sain had seen the progression of the gash, but appeared too tired to ask about it.
"You rest, tonight," Kent ordered firmly, once he had finished with the nasty business of the cleaning. "I'll take care of camp, and take watch."
"But you can't!" the emerald knight argued, shaking his head slightly. "You need to rest too, after the attack...and you wouldn't let a dashing knight such as myself be separated from his noble duties, now would you?" He flashed a grin and tried to sound cheerful, but the grin twisted with a grimace and died, and his voice was hoarse and tense with pain that now could not be concealed.
"I can, and I will," Kent said firmly. "Rest. You need all the strength you can gather. I'll keep watch." Sain gave a tired sigh, but did not argue further, only slumped back even more into the stone wall behind him.
Kent did as promised, preparing a meal for the two and making sure both horses were well tended for. But Sain could eat little now—a factor that sent warning bells ringing in Kent's mind, for Sain had quite a healthy appetite—and only requested water quietly. The redheaded knight offered his own water skin to his friend, having filled it earlier after finding a small stream while searching for firewood, and did some hasty calculations in his mind.
It would take them two more days to reach Lyndis and the others, if both of them had been in excellent condition. But Sain was injured now, doubtless would be unable to move as fast, and Kent himself would no doubt suffer from exhaustion as well after pulling all-nighters to keep watch. This would be difficult, and he wondered...would they make it?
Sain gave a soft groan as he shifted, and Kent broke from his thoughts as he watched his friend move into a slightly more comfortable sitting position. Laying down, apparently, was going to be too painful and stressful on his wound, so it seemed he would be sleeping sitting up for the night. The redhead watched quietly as the emerald knight leaned his head back against the stone, murmuring slightly to himself before slowly drifting off, his face spasming with twitches of pain every once and a while. His breathing was still hoarse, while Kent's had recovered some time ago.
The blood-red knight sighed and shifted his own position as well. He absently poked the fire and adding a little more kindling, staring out into the darkness and wondering if this was a race he could truly win.
Parts two and three are written and, upon editing, will be posted as well. Until then, enjoy, and thank you for reading! If you leave a review, kindly give it some substance—tell me what you liked, what you didn't, what parts you thought worked well, what you might improve, etc. A good critical review works wonders in my literary improvement!
And if you are wondering at the title, it stems from a song of the same name by Muse, which was listened to heavily in the writing of this fiction.