Hey everyone! For the tenth day of my twelve days of Yule, I responded to this prompt: Renewal. Here’s what I came up with! Let me know what you think by commenting below or shooting me an email at email@example.com.
Kyle stares out over the ashes of the town, watching the fathers weep and the mothers helplessly shake the corpses of their dead children. The air reeks of burning flesh and the bitter tang of magical fire. He looks over to his right, where Vincent sits in the grass sharpening his sword. He hadn’t needed to clean it, there’d been no blood on it. His grey eyes scan the sky, as if the dragon would simply reappear and destroy everything it left behind. Kyle wishes very suddenly and very painfully that Vincent was out of his armor so Kyle could embrace him and feel the warmth of his body, perhaps it would bring him some semblance of comfort in this horrid situation.
“If the archers had been able to bring it down, then I would have been able to kill it.” Vincent mutters, not looking up from his sword.
Kyle looks over at him. “They filled it with arrows, but they couldn’t injure it.”
“I know that!” Vincent says harshly, shooting a severe glare over at Kyle.
Kyle looks over at him, stunned by the coarse tone in his voice. He wants to reach out and grab Vincent, feel him reassure their love in the wake of this.
But Vincent just shoves his sword into his sheath and stands, marching away into the burned remains of the village. Kyle had used his hydromancy to put out most of the fires, but he was the only warlock in the village and many of them had gotten away from him and burned too long, ruining houses and shops all through the village.
Kyle looks out over the village and hears the discord of sadness. He still has energy left, even after putting out all those fires. He wants to give the village something so they will never face a tragedy like this again, or at least some sign of hope to renew their spirits.
Later, when the sun has set and the bodies have been buried, Kyle walks back into the village. He is scared how they will look when they see him. He had let them down. If he was stronger or faster, he could have saved more of their village from the dragon’s fire. As he approaches the village center, the gathered people turn to watch his approach. There is no disappointment on their faces, only sadness.
In the center of the village stands Vincent. He has removed his armor, probably flung it all over their room in the way that always makes Kyle mad. He reaches for Kyle and the warlock takes his hand, allowing himself to be drawn into Vincent’s arms. He relishes in the feeling of the hug. It is an apology and comfort. After a few moments of the embrace, Kyle pushes against Vincent’s chest to break free of his arms. He steps towards the center of the village and asks everyone to step back. He takes a deep breath, connecting to the water he can feel deep within the earth and the puddles that still cover the village from his earlier work putting out fire. He exhales sharply through his nose and moves his arms in quick, fluid motions. His work is done quickly, but he stands still for a while before opening his eyes, looking to see what he has made. A pool stands in the middle of the village, surrounded by round stones he had carried up with the water. The villagers look at it curiously, and Vincent rushes forward to catch him as his knees buckle from the amount of energy he’s expended. The villagers around them all whisper as they watch the pool, some sounding impressed but most saying nothing.
“It’s beautiful.” Vincent mutters into his ear.
He is being kind. Kyle shakes his head weakly. “Just wait.”
Seconds after the words leave his mouth, the pool bubbles and a stream of water shoots out. Kyle watches the faces of the villagers through the haze of exhaustion as they crane their necks to watch the torrent shoot upwards. The drops of water dance and shimmer in the air, falling slowly to the earth.