Downtown Druid

There were no witnesses dreaming this time, just an empty street, two figures, a pile of ashes, and the sound of wailing. A man wearing a dark blue cloak dug his hands into the pile of ashes in front of him, raising them high and letting them gently slip through his fingers, a gentle wind carrying them through the narrow alleyways and darkened streets, he was frowning for the first time in a long time. Next to him, a green woman with blood red tears dripping down her face. She too dug her hands into the pile of dust, but rather than letting it slip through her fingers onto the ground, she inhaled, and blew, causing it to scatter from her hands into the air, where it slowly fell down like snow, each fleck and particle of it landing on a piece of green in the city, and infusing it. Both the woman in Green and the man in Blue walked together toward the wailing, finding it hidden in an alley.

The rat knew that everything died. Death was a fact of his life from the moment he was born onward. It had become distant for him recently, but it was still always there, the primary driver of his existence, only masked by other concerns as that distance had grown. He’d never cried over death. He’d never cried at all. He did at that moment though, as he felt his own death. A piece of his own soul extinguished.

The man in blue and the green woman both reached toward the rat and placed their hand on his back, comforting him as best they could.

A man armored in red stood behind them, at the edge of the alley. He took a step toward them, but suddenly a gust picked up and those ashes that had just been scattered started to push against him. He pressed forward another step, and another, but the dust kept picking up, blowing stronger and stronger until it blew with the power of a typhoon.

The armored man was pushed back.

…

Gavain stepped back from the spear, breathing heavily. He felt true satisfaction in that moment as he watched the ashes of Dantes’s corpse blow away and scatter. He could feel the damage that the fight had done to him. Hundreds of cuts and bruises, his entire body scorched and shattered by explosions. In spite of all of that, he felt that he could recover. If he could reach the temple quickly enough, or an alchemist, he’d make it. With his increased speed and strength, he was sure he would make it in time.

He looked around, wary of any of Dantes’s allies that may still be nearby, but he didn’t see anyone. He would find and take care of them once he had recovered. He reached forward and pulled his spear from the concrete, looking around. He didn’t know where he was. He walked down an alley and onto a main street, hoping to recognize where he was, but he didn’t recognize the street either. He also didn’t see anyone on it, nor did he hear anyone. No guards rushing to see what the explosion was, no people talking or yelling or running. Maybe he was in a less populated area, that would make sense as a place to set a trap for him.

He bent his legs and launched himself into the air, landing on the roof of a nearby house. He jumped again to reach the top of a much higher abandoned apartment building. He could see… nothing from where he was. Nothing he recognized anyway. Just buildings, streets, and alleys as far as he could see. He bent his legs and launched himself again, landing on a street and running. If he ran in the same direction long enough, he’d eventually hit the wall or the water, and he could figure things out from there, he still had plenty of time.