Young Writers Society

Someone called her name. A burst of wind hit her cheek. She blinked, she heard her name again.

A blurry figure knelt in front of her. ”Zillah, wake up.”

The person blew on her face again.

She quickly raised her left hand. Her eyes snapped open as her brain registered the pain.

“Owwwwwwwww.”

She gently set her arm down, then paused as a fuzzy, chiselled face came into focus. ”Soren were you, blowing on my face?”

Soren shrugged. “touching you looked like it would have hurt. You don't look so good what happened? What had to go find someone else to beat you up?”

Zillah grunted, and rubbed her face, with her right hand. “Soren you have really bad timing, speaking of which, where were you.” she glanced at his watch, “three hours ago.”

“I was busy.” He ran a pale hand through his black hair.

“You're never busy when I am in the city.”

She reached for her staff. Soren grabbed it for her and held it out, she snatched it.

Zillah planted it in the ground and shakily got up. The world spun again, she clutched the staff, tightly, leaning on it. Trying to find some sort of stability. Her trashed wings upset her balance and she toppled forward. Falling on her face.

She groaned, “maybe I'll just live here now, on this nice patch of ground.” she patted the ground

“Can I have your base then?”

She turned her head,” what base?” staring at his brown slightly rumbled laced-up boots.

Soren cocked an eyebrow, “the one in the cliff above us.”

She considered. She could pretend she had no idea what he was talking about. Or she could tell him. She decided on the floor. She didn't have the energy to lie right now.

“How long have you known?”

“Uhh, you fly thereafter every battle.”

“Danget.”

Soren shrugged, “it looks cool, I'll give you that. Need a hand getting up there?”

Zillah rolled over and sat up. Once again using her staff to stand up, this time accounting for her wing's weight.

She looked at the blank white cliff, studded with small growth or dirt, thousands of feet in height. Then attempted to move her wings again. The effort only produced a series of metallic squeaks.

She peered at Soren. “Fine, just drop me off at the top.”

She flinched as Soren gently picked her bridal style.

“You good?” Soren straigted.

“Yup.” she lied. Of course, she wasn't good. Her entire body felt like it's just been thrown down a cliff. Her head was spinning. And there was some guy who wanted her dead. She was also in the arms of her sworn enemy and could easily cart her off to jail. Completely fine.

“Ok.”

Soren flew up, the cliff face blurring into a mix of greys, broken only by an occasional green, then steel from the fence further in, as he sprung over the top.

He hovered over the clifftop slowly lowering her to the middle.

“No, no”’ zillah waved her hand,” over there,” she pointed further in.

Soren wrinkled his brows but floated over there anyway. As soon as his feet were touching the solid rock, Zillah wiggled out of his arms.

“Ok, bye.” she planted her staff in a crack and leaned on it.

“Uhh” Soren scanned the bare flat rock surface,” how do you get in?”

Zillah tilted her head, “I keep walking and boom, I fall through a hole, into my base.”

Soren frowned,” very funny. fine I'll go”

He floated off the ground then sored off to the l slightly less skyscraper city.

Zillah watched him until he was a dot in the sky. Holding a hand out, shading her eyes from the sun. Then she looked down at the rock dotted with weeds.

“Well this is gonna hurt.” when she'd found the space and converted it she hadn't even thought she'd need to enter without her wings.

She yanked her staff out, and gingerly packed it into the ground a few feet forward, continuing until it went right through.

She found the edge and sat down, dangling her leg through what seemed like solid rock, then shoved herself off.

Zillah landed hard, ankle bones clashing. She stumbled a few feet forward before jamming her staff onto the floor and steadying herself. The leaned against a pillar and turned the staff into a small eye holding it tightly

She relaxed and let the magical wings fall off. They clattered to the floor. a crumpled mess. They turned the eye into the staff again.

Frowning now that she had a look at the damage, she'd have to try and fix them later, but for now. She desperately needed sleep.

The afternoon sun shone brightly through the windows as she walked over the shadows made by the pillars, shuffled through the doorway. Dropping her staff as she slumped onto her bed. The staff rolled off her bed and clattered onto the cement floor. Zillah ignored it and curled up. Smashing her aching head in the pillows, away from the bright sun streaming through the window, in the hope it would curb her headache.

Zillah dozed on and off, startling awake when she either lay on her arm or the sun peeked through her eyelids. Thought her many bruises riddle on her skin prevented her from getting very comfortable

After what seemed like an hour later she fully woke. Thought naps tend to be extremely disorienting. The room was cast in bright orange. She panicked for a moment, believing the city was now on fire, but she rolled over to the window and saw the setting sun.

She sat up. And stretched. Her headache had subsided to a manageable throb.

Though her body was still sore, the bruises showed. Dotting every which way on what was visible of her skin.

Zillah shuffled to the bay windows in the connecting room and slid down against a pillar. Head spinning with the day's problems. if only they’d go away with the setting sun.

How was she going to get rid of this guy, he wanted her gone. So the only option was to get rid of him before he got rid of her. But how? Her powers did nothing to him. She rubbed her hand over her face, maybe a shower would clear her mind.

The floor got increasingly colder as she wandered over to the bathroom in the far corner of the base. The sunbeams only reached back there in the evening. Leaving the floor further bath void of any warmth.

She stripped off her suit, discarding the layers on the floor. Her corset took a few minutes to unbuckle with one arm. Her boot slid off easily and her suit was painful to peel off. Clinging to every cut.

Carefully cradling her injured arm Shivering she reached in and turned on the shower then tested the water. The warm water cascaded over her hand, she watched it, memorized. A sharp shiver brought her back, and she hurridly stepped into the shower, huddling under the comforting stream.

Zillah absentmindedly rubbed soap over her sore body, wincing at undiscovered cuts, and bruises. She was lost in her head, eyes brows wrinkled as she mulled over her problems.

This guy had some sort of, force he used. An undenied power, that he could use at will, with his hands. Or was it his mind and he added his hands for flair or out of habit? The question was how to stop him from using said power. Tire him out paraphs? No, she couldn't even hit him. Much less tire him. Did he have an object that contained his force power?

Force, seems like a fitting name. He's a very forceful man.

But how to stop Force?