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guys it's 23.52 and i have no time to edit this so please forgive any absurd errors
Whispers.
They were all Y/n could hear: hushed voices speaking hurriedly to each other, muffled only slightly through the wooden wall. She could make out a few of their words.
"—storm?"
"—we can't . . ."
"Wojira . . !"
She forced her eyelids to lift, sitting up on a thin mattress. The air around her was cold, but that was nothing new. She winced at the pain throbbing in her head.
Where am I? Wasn't I just . . .
Y/n scanned the room. Her eyes landed on Lloyd lying on the bed across from hers, unconscious. She stared at him for a moment, completely confused.
Then everything hit her with the force of a freight train.
A sea of frozen samurais.
The flash of her silver sword as it sliced through ice.
Armor falling from the sky like hailstones.
A storm.
Wind tainted peach swirling in a hungry cyclone.
Green light.
Cole hitting the snow, passed out.
Lloyd.
His terrified face that first time by the Monastery, during the battle with the Bringers of Doom.
His motionless body under a mess of crimson wood.
Him lying dead at her feet in a vision that seemed all too real.
Him being thrown through a village building.
The blood that trickled down his forehead as his consciousness winked out.
Y/n's gaze dropped to her hands. The hands that had done that. The ruined houses. The village's last line of defense, untouched by the samurais but toppled like dominoes by a tornado of her creation. The green-eyed boy on the other bed, bandaged and bruised.
Before she knew it, her eyes swam with tears.
How did this happen? How could I let this happen?
She slipped off of her mattress, knees almost buckling from the surprise of standing after an untold number of hours without use. Y/n silently crossed the room to sit on the floor by Lloyd. She reached tentatively out to touch his wrist in hopes of silencing the small, sinister voice in her mind that wondered if he was dead, but she stopped herself.
She pressed her hands together.
She wasn't about to trust them again. She wasn't about to trust herself again.
