When I was little, I used to have this tiny music box.
My mother always played it when she wanted me to sleep… I remember many of such evenings. She would smile at me, lay the book away that she had been reading for me, and turn on the music box. The melody that came out was a little melancholic, yet in the meantime strangely soothing. It always seemed to drain the tense out of me, even in later years.
I remember a dark rainy night when I must have been fourteen years old or something; my boyfriend had broken up with me or something equally upsetting for a girl during puberty. I was crying my eyes out, and turned on the little music box I got from my mother. My mother was long dead at that point, a casualty of war, but the music box I had always kept since it held my strongest memories of her. While I had listened to the sad melody, I had cried my eyes out, but afterwards I felt much better. That had been the last time.
It's been years ago, but strangely enough I can't get that melody out of my head right now. It seems inappropriate, yet … I cannot really define it. I feel like crying again, and all that's stopping me from breaking down is the ghost of that damn melody playing inside my skull.
I'm stepping over the dead bodies, searching my way through the blood-soaked battlefield. They've got to be here somewhere, I have been searching for hours… and I'm so tired. I have to keep going, though.
Heavens, how I want this war to end. I look up at the stormy sky. It's about to rain. Rain would be good… it would wash the blood away and cleanse the earth, remove the horrible memory of another battle in this endless war. The rocky bottom seems soaked with blood. The ground is raked, battered, scarred, and littered with bodies. Frantically I'm looking around, ignoring my own gaping wound in my side. Bleeding is irrelevant. I have to find them.
The song is still playing as I suddenly locate Cynthia. It must be hours later, because it's raining. I never noticed that it started. Cynthia is looking at the sky, her violet eyes are open and filling with rain. I look up at the sky, too, and let my tears mingle with the raindrops. She had fought so hard, she and Tam and I, and we lost. I had lost my squad during battle. I was responsible for my squadmembers, we were a team. And now… it's all gone.
"I am so sorry Cynthia, I feel like I failed you..." I whisper, stroking her dark hair out of her face.
I turn around and locate Tam. He has never left her side. "Tam, I am so sorry..." I tell him. There is no hope for him either. That gaping hole in his chest is too large for any healer to fix. Cynthia could have done it, if she had the time during that final battle. But such a healing would have taken hours, and she probably did not even have seconds. Tam never had any chance.
I take the jewel out of Cynthia's hand. It's violet, just as her now-glazing eyes. It had multiplied her powers three times. She had called lightning and fire, ice and water, and had casted it upon the enemy. Her heartstone was supposed to give her better access to the Nexus, she said. At least she had seemed more powerful… We thought it would bring us victory.
The enemy had always been a little stronger than we had been, even after Mana Redlock had given her life to crush the Cyran society. Or rather, what was left of their society. I don't think there is such a thing as society anymore on this planet.
The war is still raging of course. Skirmishes everywhere, cities and alliances rise and fall. Both races are diminishing every day, but still we cannot stop fighting. There are children who do not even recall a time of peace. I do. And I'll never forgive them for taking it from us. From my people.
Oh Gods, Cynthia and Tam!!
I bury my face in my hands and let the grieve rage. They're gone. My friends, my army, my family… they are gone. And will I die? I just might. I am bleeding terribly, and my head feels strangely light. I do not feel much pain actually, and I've been told that is a bad omen. I need to think, to react, to get myself into safety. I have to go to a healer or something, see that my side is taken care of.
Yet, inside my head, all I hear is this little music box playing the song my mother used to lull me to sleep with. I sit down heavily and take Cynthia's hand in mine. Somehow, it seems strangely fitting.
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**inspired by the melody/song 'Jibrille' from the Angel Sanctuary soundtrack.
A/N: I had originally intended this story arc to be a trilogy, but I keep having flashes of this strange world and it's ever-raging war. So you might just be able to expect installments of this series in the future: a bleak and black image of a world that is slowly destroying itself… viewed through the eyes of it's people.
I've been asked if this is fanfiction, and no, it's an original. Most of the pieces I've written are based on songs, and I think music is the greatest inspiration for continuing this story. Music can paint such strong images.
Tnx for sticking with me,
Lanfir Leah.
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