black bird for shucri
Send me “black bird” for a darker memory of my muse’s past
With a pained groan, another daywalker goes up in flame. You scream, unable to stop the flames crashing down on the undead. While you’re glad to be able to ward off these monsters, having to rely on your uncontrollable powers just serves to deepen the fear racking your entire body.
You were alone, stranded in the woods, the canopy filtering in a pink light that made it possible to see, but not without a pulsing ache. Still, it meant you could survive traveling during daylight, which was already giving you a leg up against the subjugglators.
Problem was, you’d just traded them for undead hordes. Daywalkers dotted the place, shambling about in search for live prey, and while their pained groans made them easy to spot, their sheer numbers were the biggest threat about them. If not for the wide range of your newfound pyrokinetics, you’d have been done in ten times over.
Unfortunately, that brought you back to the first problem: you can’t control them. Once the floodgates were open, the fire wouldn’t stop for minutes on end, which only served to attract more of the shambling corpses. The fact that the forest hadn’t been caught up in it all - although, with your current area awareness, you really couldn’t be sure - was nothing short of a miracle. That was a small comfort, though; It did nothing for the smell of charred, rotten flesh assaulting your senses, the groaning and pained yells, nor the god-awful brightness that the sun and fire made together. On top of it all, exhaustion clawed at you. You’re not sure how much longer you could last.
