The world around me slowed until it seemed that nothing was moving at all. Leaves of grass green, earthen brown, and pumpkin orange no longer fluttered from the trees to the battle-worn ground below. Anguished Healers, their eyes full of heart-wrenching concern, no longer hurried by to assist their Barrons as the battle all around them fell away. In my perception, nothing moved. All was still. Even my breath was so tightly locked inside my lungs that I began to question whether or not I would ever breathe again.
Darius lay on the ground at my feet, his once silver hair slicked back from his face, covered in rich, red blood. His blood. Too much of it. The palm of my hand was still wet with it. And shaking.
August 4, 2020
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