"Th... they're gone?"
Fyar looked around, his eyes wide. The main square was deathly silent.
The screaming had stopped. The air was thick and heavy.
Only the bodies of the City Guards, cooling on the stones, and the smoldering wreckage of the stalls remained.
Thin, acrid smoke still billowed from the embers, stinging his eyes. He was alone with his injured comrades.
He collapsed to the ground. His legs, shaking violently from the exertion and the sudden release of tension, could no longer support his weight. His breathing was ragged,
"Fyar!"
Illya ran towards him, stumbling over the debris.
What happened?! They just disappeared! Did someone save us? A Guardian? A hero?
Fyar looked around again, scanning the dark rooftops, the empty alleys.
There's nothing. There's no one. What the fuck?
What is this? What now?! Damn it, I'm going to go crazy if I keep getting hit by things this far outside of my expectations.
