Chapter 7 - 6. The Red of Blazing Fire
When Zen walked back to the field of withered grass, there was a fire blazing.
He had spent a good amount of time just sitting on the floor, inside the darkness of a half-collapsed building, all strength left his body.
Zen couldn't remember how he manage to change his dirty and bloody clothes, and made his way to the blacksmith in the deep to retrieve his knives, even guiding some espers he met on his way.
He was in a daze, moved by instinct, and only fully regain his focus at the sight of roaring fire.
It was massive, like a new hill made of dancing flames. Fueled by bodies, lit by magic. It smelled horrible, and made the murky air even more suffocating.
And yet, Zen stood there, as close as he could, staring at the swaying tongue of flame that painted his vision red. The twins were somewhere up there, within the pile of bodies, beneath the blazing fire. Reduces to nothing but a memory.
He hadn't even talked with Hayden. The boy had stayed unconscious until the end. Perhaps that was the best. The boy didn't have to endure the pain for too long.
They didn't have to.
It was for the best. The ashes would be scattered by the wind, up high. Maybe it could reach the sky. Would those gods and goddesses take care of them, he wondered.
But then, if they did care, they should send more towers and temples down, so there would be no red-zone in this world. So the world would be as peaceful as the leaflet said.
It didn't matter.