I cannot stop talking and that is a threat

She wasn’t sure of how long it would take to fly to the Sanctuary Islands, but they always seemed so far away from the Wasteland, and her only way out was the door, the one that led to that place, previously a desert, now a battlefield.

Alma doesn’t even know if the Islands are as barren as the ancestors say the battlefield is. Was it even worth to risk her life for what now seemed like a fantasy?

The spirit manta has never see the battlefield as it is now, but people always came hurt from there, even some mantas were brought to the vault in secret, injured. Alma couldn’t remember how it ended for said creatures and ancestors, she remembers being scared.

She wanted to spend no longer in the vault, there had to be a plan, and she always got caught anytime she tried to search for a crack in a wall, or any little tunnel. She has tried so many times and none of them succeeded.

The feeling of feeling free pounded in a fast heartbeat. And guided by it, she went ahead with her plan.

Spirit mantas like her could always become invisible, it was an ability she just discovered on her own while being in the vault, so she would wait, patiently, until the doors to the Wasteland Temple opened again.

As it was expected, it happened, after some time waiting in the first floor, and she managed to get out, without being caught this time.

The Wasteland temple was always a pretty boring one… but why does it shine green now? There’s another gate, secluding the Wasteland from the battlefield.

She didn’t recall seeing that gate when she was brought in the Vault…

The last time Alma remembers of that place outside the temple was just some structures that always stood up in the barren place they were located in. They always seemed to call the attention of whoever went through that place.

Now, she saw the gates of the Wasteland temple opening, while some warriors entered to seek refuge in their Elder’s place. She took advantage of the great opportunity given to her, and went out, for the first time in forever.

For some seconds, she felt the first hints of air as she flew ahead. She had succeeded, she’s out of the vault now…. Free.

And alas, the triumphant feeling faded as quickly as it built up in her.

Alma only knew of the war because of tales the survivors told, the ones she could understand, which said all kinds of horrors that could be seen in their injuries. Yet, she didn’t understand how bad it truly was until now.

Spears flying aimlessly, and shields crashing against each other. Ancestors and creatures laying in the sand, who knows if they were still alive. The battlefield gained its name for this reason.

The spirit manta froze in fear, she knew she had all the eyes on her the moment she came out of the gates, the urge to hide was strong, and somehow, movement was failing her.

She kept flying in circles, wondering where to go, where she could hide. Her mind forgot about turning invisible, and she was completely vulnerable.

No place to hide.

Where could she go?

Why did the invisibility she practiced failed her just now?

All those creatures, would something similar happen to her?

Every single one of those thoughts were blurry in her mind, and she managed to fly, somewhere else, somewhere that is at least a bit safer than this.

And she flew high in the sky, as high as she learnt to, so no spear could catch her. Her thoughts were still blurry, and she was flying fast.

She couldn’t see it. But she felt it.

Alma was speared.

The painful sting of the weapon only let her fly for a while, long enough to get away from the battle, and lay in the sand, like all those creatures she’s seen.

She felt weak, her breathing was shivering while she closed her only eye.

She heard voices from the ancestors getting closer. They were still far away from her, and she still felt the need to escape, but the thought didn’t become action, her body was giving up.

The pain also faded, she couldn’t feel it anymore, and her body became heavy, but also lighter?

Alma opened her eye, seeing through one of those holes formed in between the wasteland clouds, they let her observe the sky, for what seemed to be one last time, and as she closed her eye again, she heard a voice.

It was ethereal and motherly. None of the words it said were understandable, like some sacred language only the gods can speak. And Alma felt warmth, like when she was embraced by her mother. And with the warmth, she felt a light, lifting her.

The ancestors who were following her could only find the spear that ended with her.