Lightning struck throughout the dark, night sky. Thunder bellowed across the earth. A cold and howling wind whispered through the mountain side.
Tears began to spill from Smyrna’s eyes and fall to the collar attached to the cloak that engulfed her small frail body. She felt soft quakes that plagued the cold rock floor beneath her feet. The pulse made her draw her wings closer to her body. As she looked out from the watchtower, a rock formed in the pit of her stomach. She gripped the clod brick wall as she felt her knees fail her.
The storm rotated like a hurricane, except this type of storm was supernatural, everlasting, frightful.
“Lucian has started,” she muttered to the young man standing next to her. Dim light from the fire only showed mere shadows of his presence.
“Should we go alert the others?” his voice cracked in fear as a lightning bolt crashed into the side of a mountain. Sending rock and ash flying.
Smyrna broke her stare to face him. His brown eyes showed fear, so much worry hid behind them.
The wind increased speed and Smyrna had to pull her wings even tighter to her body, in fear she would be carried away.
“Run, go alert the troops!” she shouted to him, though he was already running down the steps of the watchtower. She choked back tears as she listened to his footfalls fade into the thunder. A pang of sadness struck her heart.
She looked back out into the vast world before her. Oh how things had changed in the course of eight months. She wished Lucian never existed, that her brother Pergamum never left her and rebelled against the Coterie. She said a silent prayer to Yeshu, that he would keep her brother safe. It had only been three weeks since his betrayal, though it felt like a lifetime.
The wind began to ease up and Smyrna pulled the hood from her face. Her long black hair slowly moved with the calming wind. She relaxed her wings and felt the gusts of wind flow through her feathers. Her heart ached for her brother, for all of Erihill. If she ever needed Yeshu’s guidance, it was now. She had endured the persecutions, sought after every member of the Coterie, and formed the group of seven. At the young age of seventeen, she had lived a long, strenuous and painful life.
“Yeshu, be with us all,” she whispered. She leaped from the watchtower’s ledge. Her mind reeled and her muscles tensed as she fell towards the earth. Just before her body and the ground made impact, she fluttered her wings and began to fly towards the military keep.
“This is going to be a long, bloody war,” she grumbled in a slight irritable tone.
