The child didn’t stand a chance.
You are sure a cry leaves you in place of his as he is swept away, pushed by the might of the bone-made beast. You tear yourself from the crowd, crashing through the marshland as it pulls at your limbs, the sickly smell of decay thick as you breathe against the fear rising in your chest. Fear for the child, for what you will find, of the unfolding battle that you leave behind, the devastation to come. Fear that he will be too far gone to save, as Aviya (a distant ghost to your mind now, coupled with her father's face twisted in grief, the way he shattered when he learned that even magic could not save her) had been the last time gods had come to destroy, to purge that which did not bend to their wishes.
‘Ma!’
His voice cuts through the brush, ringing still as it pushes you faster, desperation blooming infinitely between the tracings of hope and relief as the seconds pass and you search among the marsh, the decay and rust. A flash of movement, of red and white catches your attention, and only then do you finally breathe.
“Shh, baby, shh. I’m here.” You coo gently, falling to your knees as unhurriedly as you can manage beside his mangled frame, your eyes flitting over him as your magic sparks inside of you, trying your best to smile, to quell your own panic so that it does not pass to him in all his pain. A thousand questions spring to your mind, a thousand and one motherly reprimands on your tongue, but none of it becomes anything more than concerned sentiment, your lips moving to press a ghostly-light touch to the curve of his little neck. “Lay still for me now, sweetling. You’ll be alright.” And you begin to hum, trying to drown the terror of the fight, to soothe him as your magic works to mend his tiny, broken body.
but I’ve pushed myself down so far
I couldn’t come back if I tried
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[O] SWP :: The beginning of something new entirely
