Step... step...
Lyra, still amid the flames, stood up...
Her arms rose slightly in front of her, one burning in white and the other in black light. They spiraled around her, wild and untamed, as if reflecting her shattered heart.
"What... is happening to me?" Lyra whispered, trembling. But the flames gave no answers.
'What is this? It... it doesn't hurt... but this feeling, fear, safety...' Fire that did not burn her, no, not that, even the one with a dark, ominous feel was just as much recovering her burned skin like the one radiating safety and warmth.
'That previous fire and these ones... they are not the same... they consumed it? The fire that burns flames?' She was confused, but the feelings dominated her mind, not letting her emotions fluctuate as much.
It was constant, and still... she might have forgotten what kind of situation she was in.
'Ugh.' Her face contorted. 'This... this sharp pain... what?' Right down the middle, right where the two flames meet... they did not clash but...
'What's this... they aren't fighting, but this is not balanced its more like ignoring the other... only when they touch does it feel so sharp... hmh at least they are trying... good job...'
'...'
'...'
'Ah, haha, who am I praising... it was just a feeling... maybe I'm thinking too much...'
"Witch!"
'Uh? Oh right... I was here...' To Elendor's scream, Lyra raised her head only to look back down...
'Why was I here? Right... the ceremony... the attack... I remember... but what is this... why don't I feel angry or sad now? I'm sure... moments ago I didn't even know what to do or what to think... my mind is so calm, I don't even care...'
...
Ahah, nature does not change, does it? Always so distant from everything, yet so full of love... sometimes I wonder, who is it really... which you is real... or is it both?
...
'No... they... I care... I remember... those faces... I...' That single word was enough to get her mind out of that serenity.
'This bitch... she dares ignore me, but it seems she has returned to her senses.' Seeing Lyra's face again in confusion, Elendor began, no, rather, he continued his previous words.
"People of Draconis!"
"...?" Like a morning call, the frozen faces of the people looked up.
"..?"
"Do not be deceived, that which-that monster... she is the very darkness that was foretold to ruin us. IT IS SHE, THE MONSTER!"
"These tricks of hers, falsehood all... does she dare harm the people of Draconis, brave souls who survive these hellish times, rise, don't be fooled, those flames are a facade, do you not see her desperate gaze!?"
"Rise and see, she is no savior, no hero! Remember, her plays and charade, it shall end here, don't be fooled!"
"..." Quiet, silence.
"..." Hushed still.
"Yes! That disgusting wench! She deceived all of us."
"She even hid this from us. It is her, that monster!"
"She's cursed! A monster all along!"
"Burn her! Before she burns us all!"
'What... what is this...' Hearing the people scream... this feeling of wanting to scream back... it was drowned by that feeling of disgust, even if she tried to speak it might only be cries that came.
More and more shouts, the words stung more than the magic that tried to bind her. 'Why...?'
She had fought for these people, bled for them, saved them—and now they turned on her without hesitation.
"She's the monster the prophecy warned us about!" Elendor declared, his voice loud and sure.
"We must end her before it's too late! Fret not, the which is still bound! End her, here and now!!!"
The crowd surged with fear and anger, friends turning against friends, but most people followed as their emotions spiraled into chaos. The very people Lyra had once protected now marched toward her with weapons raised.
Lyra's heart twisted painfully. She wanted to scream at them, to make them understand. But no words came—only a hollow emptiness that grew with every breath.
'How could they be like that...' How is no one speaking up for her... or was she in the wrong all along, thinking was no help to her confused mind.
She could feel Arion above her, waiting for her command. He could end this. He could save her.
But did she even want to be saved?
Her shoulders sagged under the weight of betrayal. The fight seeped out of her bones, leaving only weariness in its place.
'Why fight for a world that wants me dead?'
The black and white flames around her flickered, responding to the resignation in her heart. She knew she could unleash even them- burn everything to ash if she wanted. But...
What would be the point? 'Kill everyone... would I be a savior then? Am I so shallow to think of that now... or am I not shallow enough to do it...'
Lyra took a slow step forward, the crowd closing in. She stared at them- faces twisted with hatred, fear, and something else she couldn't quite name. It was the look of people who had once admired her but now were relieved to see her fall.
'They were waiting for this... waiting for me to fail. What is this cruelty? Are people truly so evil, or am I just not understanding it? Should I have done more?'
The truth stung, but there was no anger left in her- only a deep, aching sadness.
She finally understood something: people loved heroes only until it became inconvenient to look at them. They admired strength until it made them feel small.
Lyra's legs buckled, but this time, she didn't fight it. She knelt on the cold stone floor, her hands resting limply at her sides.
The crowd swarmed closer, their body casting jagged shadows on the walls. Someone shouted, "End her!"
Arion roared in desperation, flames licking the edges of his mouth, but Lyra raised her hand *enough*.
The dragon hesitated, his massive form frozen in place, confused and helpless.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She wasn't even sure who she was apologizing to- Arion, the people, or herself.
The flames around her dimmed, flickering like the last embers of a dying fire. Her heart ached, not from fear, but from the weight of disappointment.
'All of this... for nothing.'
'I lived for nothing...'
The first blow landed- a stone hurled by a young man she had saved from starvation. It struck her shoulder, and Lyra flinched, not from pain, but from the realization that it was someone she once knew.
More stones followed, and then a sword slashed through the air. The people she had fought for, the lives she had saved- they tore into her with the same fervor they once praised her with.
Lyra didn't resist. She didn't even raise her hands to shield herself. What was the point?
The flames around her flickered one last time... then they died.
She closed her eyes, her thoughts drifting to the sky beyond the castle walls.
'Maybe Arion will fly far away... Maybe he'll find someone worth saving...'
'...will he forget about me... or... did he even remember me...'
The world blurred, the sounds of anger and violence fading into a distant hum. Her body gave out, crumpling beneath the weight of it all.
'How could you give up!?' An angry shout shook her, her head twisted from left to right, but only darkness remained...
'I fight... I fight until my flesh burns...'
'Who...'
'Until my bones break, crumble...'
'...'
'I fight till my soul breaks...'
'...'
'And even then!!!'
'Even then, I will still stand...'
'I...' Lyra's voice was low, not comparable to the loud words.
'I don't want to fight anymore... what's... what is even the point?'
'People betray me because I'm too high... or I fall low, and they despise me... what's the point if there is nothing to live for... if...'
'You...'
'...!' Why was it so low... the voice, the word froze Lyra's face... her yes closed, only for a single drop of tear to roll down her face...
As darkness swallowed her, a final thought drifted through her mind, fragile as a whisper:
'Why...? Am I...'
And then, there was nothing.
The people stood over her lifeless body, breathing heavily.
Some looked relieved, others uneasy, as if they had expected victory to feel sweeter or like they just wished not to be present.
The flames that had once danced around Lyra lay cold and silent, just like the heart they had burned within.
Far above, Arion let out a mournful roar that echoed through the sky, shaking the heavens with his grief. But no one looked up.
The crowd dispersed slowly, their eyes dimming one by one, leaving only silence where a hero had once stood.
And Lyra, who had given everything for a world that never wanted her, lay alone- without answers, without justice, without peace.
Only the quiet remains of a broken heart.
...
The truth is, people often enjoy seeing someone greater than them fall- some openly, others subconsciously. It's just part of human- no, life's nature.
Why would anyone celebrate another's success if it has no real connection to them? Instead, feelings like jealousy, anger, or wounded pride arise.
This is neither right nor wrong; these emotions shift, diminish, strengthen, and evolve within society and the people.
People admire those who try their hardest and succeed, yet they also resent those who do better than them and stand at the top.
This contradiction feels both unnatural and natural- an order that few dare to oppose.
But why oppose it?
What gives people the right to feel that way?
Then again, isn't everyone entitled to their own feelings and opinions?
But when do personal feelings cross the line into injustice?
If someone falls, shouldn't we help them? Aren't we supposed to be civilized?
After all, falling implies they once stood high. Isn't that enough?
Should they just step aside for someone else- someone who worked less? But is that truly just and right? What sense does it make?
Civilization or nature- what is right, and what is wrong?
Even if someone provided a clear answer, would anyone accept it?
In the end, clarity seems impossible.
A righteous cause with wrongful methods, or a wrongful cause with righteous methods- what's the difference?
Some people simply want to see the world burn, while others strive for it to flourish.
And so, we remain tangled in these overwhelming thoughts...
An old friend of mine... he told me such...
"What if success isn't purely earned? What if fate, chance, or privilege had more to do with it? And what happens when someone succeeds against the odds- does that justify others resenting them?"
"Does the individual matter more than the collective, or is the good of society worth any sacrifice? Perhaps this struggle between destruction and creation is not a flaw, but a balanced existence life must live with... Or perhaps... it's all just chaos... nothingness..."
He was also one of those who questioned... just like you...
Maybe that's also why I'm helping you. Hah... Am I also just beginning to question things now?
Sigh... I'm kind of getting bored...
Shall we continue, kid?