Day Twenty-Four. Thank heavens for neighbors and their homemade chicken noodle soup! Today was a long day of school and work! Warning. This next one is a little sad.
Mirana's Wrath
Inside the heart of Shadow Mountain, Mirana’s pleas echoed off the smooth walls, blending with the beating and chanting of the Shadow People. The two holding her tightened their grip as she struggled to break free. Mirana knew the volcano was about to erupt, this was her last chance to escape. But she still didn’t know where her baby was and she was too weak from childbirth to use magic. The shrieks and drums escalated and Mirana knew the climax was soon. Her tears dried almost as quickly as she shem.
The Chieftain walked forward, carrying something in his arms, covered by a blanket, and stopping at the edge of the lake of lava below. The light from the molten rock bathed his skin in blood red hues. The ash and smoke stung Mirana’s eyes and throat. He raised his arms and the blanket fell away to reveal a crying infant. “No!” Mirana’s final scream rose above all the other noise. Her child heard Mirana’s cry and stilled. The guards holding her released her and she ran forward until she fell, her unblemished white wings sizzling on the hot ground.
The chanting and drum beats stopped. Mirana looked up, breathed in, and felt her heart stop as the chieftain dropped her child into the lava.
The volcano stopped rumbling. “The prophecy has been fulfilled!” The Chieftain faced his subjects. “The infant of an angel has been sacrificed. We will all live.” Their frenzied chanting drowned out the rest of his words.
“You will all burn!” The volcano trembled and resumed its explosive course. The Shadow People looked at the fallen angel and ran, but not fast enough. Mirana flew out of the volcano, feeding it power until it exploded, belching black smoke and fire balls.
Hours later, the High Archangel could finally see through the smoke and gazed with deep sorrow on the burning ruins around the volcano. He had sensed the volcano calm down then almost immediately, some form of magic poured into it and it exploded. He scoured the smoking land through his Magni-Window, hoping for someone or something to be alive. Just as he had given up hope, he spotted a moving form through the ashes. An angel walked across the destruction, with wings and dress as black as the ashes, eyes that burned like lava, and straps across her arms, blocking her magic. The High Archangel stared in horror upon the fallen angel who had murdered an entire people. “What have you done, sister?”
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