Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ Piece of Her Wings ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

There was complete chaos when the whole of heaven and earth shuddered with that titanic lurch that shook the very foundations of Paradise. What were majestic trees and crystalline lakes a few moments ago were now turning into a graveyard of ashes and dust as the overwhelming power of the Elder was unleashed. She had nowhere safe to go; everything around her was dissolving in front of her eyes. The mythical place that people have always dreamt of was being destroyed by the terrifying wrath of the Elder, the Ancient Angel whom had guarded its gates since the dawn of time.

She didn't remember where she was when it had started. The thundering noise that tore Paradise asunder still echoed in her head. Her wings trembled with every feather. She pressed her hands tightly against her ears, trying very hard to erase the echoes she could still hear so clearly.

The sound of Paradise being destroyed.

Yet still, she heard another sound. It was a voice—of her name being called with a note of urgency. Even though she was almost paralyzed with fear, the voice was enough to make her come out from her shielded hiding place. She tried to stand up, but her knees failed her, buckling underneath her weight. Slowly, she fumbled her way through the turmoil to find him. Now she looked more so like the hated snake in the Garden of Eden as she crawled on the shaking earth, rather than a flying angel that she was supposed to be.

But she wanted to find him. She wanted to be with him. And as she wounded herself crawling through the ruins of this once lush and otherworldly oasis, she realized that there is only one thing that she wants now, the one thing that she needed. And it surprised her, for it wasn't the answer she was seeking for. It wasn't life or salvation; neither a second chance nor a place in paradise anymore. It was him that she wanted. She realized that it was his voice that gave her the strength; it was his voice that kept her going on until now. She knew that she had to be with him, so she would survive this somehow. She knew that if she'd be beside him, everything would turn out fine.

If she was with him, then everything will be alright.

Even if heaven and earth falls apart, it will be alright.

Even if Paradise turns into dust, it will be alright.

As long as they're together when the world comes to an end, then it will be alright!

She groped her way out of the befallen trees, haphazardly traversing the widening fissures while the sounds of wreckage still howled from above her. Chunks from the towering mountains rained mercilessly, destroying everything in their path. The fields reeked with the stench of death as the animals that once roamed free lay lifeless on the ground. And all she could see everywhere was red—ugly red. The fiery sun burned the angry sky; the flames and blood licked and engulfed the earth whole. The crimson sky and the crimson earth became one, and she could no longer discern where one ends and where another begins. But even though everything around had seemed so hopeless, she was determined to find her angel, and be with him one last time.

At last, she found him. Her glorious and valiant angel stood defiantly at the very edge of Paradise. Even in this current chaos, she couldn't help but to be in awe at his perfection. Dishevelled and blood-soaked as he was, she could still see the strength in his eyes, the rhythm of his muscles. He was an artfully created breathtaking masterpiece.

Tears of relief clouded her eyes, rolling unhindered down her ash-smudged cheeks. Her sight was failing her; she stretched out her hands imploringly, longingly, and started slowly towards him. It was only then she became fully aware of all the stinging wounds and aching bruises all over her body. She realized that she was very, very tired, and she crumpled to the ground. She had exhausted every single ounce of energy within her in her desperate search to be with the man she loved, to be with her beloved angel.

The bloodied angel turned and met her with a steady gaze. And then to her, he spoke. A simple and sad instruction: "Do not come near me."

There was a certain kind of hopelessness in his voice, a certain kind of regret that seemed to almost reach out and caress her face, envelop her being. With those few words, the cloud in her sight slowly dissipated, revealing the reality of the wreckage and carnage in which she was in, and the more carnal, basal reality that she had kept on pushing away. She was scared. She felt her fear encroaching upon her once again, becoming so palpable she could almost cut it with a sword. As she stood speechless and staring at her angel's rebellious face, she could now clearly see the pain that was hidden in his eyes.

Hopelessness. Regret. Pain.

Somehow, she knew that the battle he was fighting would not, could not, be won.

And somehow, she also understood that her angel also knew.

Then they were not alone anymore. The Ancient Angel, immortal and unassailable, strode out with blazing eyes and raging strength, clutching a majestic sword in his hands. Paradise shuddered as his mighty footsteps rumbled the earth. He was walking closer and closer towards the last standing angel. Looking on, terror filled her eyes. Her body was shaking uncontrollably, getting stronger with each step the Elder made. In the end, there was only one thing she could command her beaten body to do, and only one coherent sound came unbidden from her lips. "No!" she howled, but it was already too late.

She tried to stand and to run to him, to save him from his fate. She would rather die than live in eternity without him. But she could not. However strong her mind was, her body was not, and it was slowly crushing her will to fight, to fight for herself and for her angel.

He also knew that he was helpless. Nothing could have stopped the Elder in his wake. Knowing that his struggle was futile, he crisply told her another instruction. In a ringing, almost desperate voice he said, "Fly! Fly away from here! Fly as far as you can away from here!"

But she did not hear anything; her ears were flooded with the sound of her blood pounding through her veins. Her own inadequacy angered her, and all she could hear were her own frailties—the fluttering of her heart, the hissing of her breaths. She did not see him desperately trying to run towards her, to save her; she was too blinded by the flash of the Elder's sword slicing through her angel's bloodstained wings. She did not hear her own voice crying out, for his howls of pain and anguish drowned her own. His voice echoed throughout the ruins of Paradise, echoed above the clouds, calling out her name with an unspeakable loss.

And then the Ancient Angel threw her beloved out of Paradise, just as a master would cast scraps for the beggars.

She let go of the tears. They fell down like a storm from the heavens—angry, bitter, savage. And it was so easy, to cry her heart out, but even her wails of despair seemed too shallow for the overwhelming grief that tore at her heart.

And then the Elder turned towards her. He walked purposefully, clutching his broadsword, dripping crimson blood from the angel she had just lost. Numbly, she stayed unmoving. Would it have mattered if the Elder ended her life now? He had already ended it when he killed her beloved angel. Like a prey awaiting a snake to strike, she stayed frozen. She lifted her tear-stained face and accepted—welcomed, even—the wrath of the Ancient. When the sword plummeted down, she did not feel anything. With the second strike, she felt nothing still. It was as if her body and soul had become suddenly numb from the cold it felt as its only source of warmth was cast out from Paradise. With unseeing eyes, she looked around her, mesmerized by the swirling feathers in a blurry of madness, like a billowing snowstorm on a winter's night.

It was the last, clear memory she could remember that day. Her mind became hazy, slowly dimming as the Paradise around her spun faster and faster. Disconnected images of spilt blood and torn wings flooded her enfeebled mind. Snatches of indiscernible voices of anguish and reproach reverberated in her head. A curse of which she could not remember was cast upon her, and then, the memory of her life, the memories she had with her angel, and the memories they created in Paradise slowly faded and vanished from her, like a thief fleeting into night; like a child slowly trickling sand between its fingers.

And then, she seemed to fall. She felt as light as the feathers from her torn wings swirling around her as she effortlessly let out her arms to take her final flight. A number of lifetimes seemed to pass as she plunged towards her inevitable death. The Paradise that had become her new home had also been taken away from her, banished like her beloved, and she opened her eyes to see it again just for one last time.

She saw it for a brief, final moment before everything was erased from her memory. And as it slowly trickled away along with the other memories, she realized that what she was seeing wasn't the Paradise that she had so longed to behold before: indeed, the Paradise she was seeing now was nothing more than an ugly piece of land with no life, and no love.

Speeding down towards the ground below, her mind finally snapped shut as her very existence faded from her, and she could only remember the cold, comforting darkness. And as her frail and badly bruised body fell broken on the grassy earth below, a gentle smile formed on her lips.

She was nearly free.