EXILE (PT.3)
798 Words
“...You could’ve warned me,” he groaned.
“I didn’t know I was going to do that,” she snapped, already hauling him back to his feet.
The portal was right there now. Flickering. Fading.
“It’s closing,” he said.
“I see that.”
They ran.
The collapse struck behind them, a wave of darkness devouring everything it touched.
The portal shrank.
Smaller.
Smaller.
“Jump!” she yelled.
They did not hesitate. They leapt.
And the world disappeared.
They hit solid ground. Hard. Different. Still. Quiet. Too quiet.
Azaliyah pushed herself up first, breath uneven, hands braced against the earth.
“...We made it.”
Camron did not answer right away.
Because the moment he lifted his head, everything changed.
They were not alone.
They were surrounded.
Villagers stood in a wide circle around them. Silent. Still. Watching.
Not with relief.
With suspicion.
With fear.
Azaliyah’s chest tightened.
“Of course,” she muttered.
She pushed herself fully to her feet, brushing dirt from her hands as though nothing had just happened.
“Relax,” she said, her voice carrying just enough edge. “We’re not here to cause problems.”
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Their eyes were not on her.
They were on him.
Camron rose slowly behind her, unsteady. Visible. Different.
The murmurs began at once.
“What is that?”
“Is that...?”
“That’s not one of us.”
Azaliyah’s jaw tightened.
“He’s with me.”
That did not help. If anything, it made everything worse.
The circle tightened by a fraction.
Then the elder stepped forward. Calm. Controlled. Too calm.
His eyes settled on Camron first. Then shifted to her.
“You brought this into our village?”
Her spine straightened.
“He needed help.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“And I didn’t stutter.”
A ripple moved through the crowd.
The elder did not react. Not outwardly.
“You practice unstable magic,” he said, his voice level and cold, “and now you bring unknown creatures into a dying realm.”
Her hands clenched slightly at her sides.
“He’s not a creature.”
“Then what is he?”
She did not answer.
Because she did not fully know.
And they noticed.
The elder’s gaze hardened by a fraction.
“Exactly.”
The tension snapped.
Magic sparked at her fingertips. Uninvited. Uncontrolled.
“Don’t,” she said under her breath.
But it was already happening.
The air shifted. Gold light flickered around her hands, then surged outward.
She moved on instinct, drawing her blades in one smooth motion. Spinning once in a full circle.
Then crossing them in an X.
“Stop!” someone shouted.
Too late.
The spell was released.
A blast of magic tore outward from her. Violent. Unstable. Beautiful. Destructive. It ripped through the ground, cracked stone, sent villagers stumbling back... then stopped.
Midair.
Frozen.
The elder had not moved. But his hand was raised.
And her magic was no longer hers.
It dissolved. As though it had never existed.
Silence crashed down over everything.
Azaliyah’s chest rose and fell unevenly.
“I told you,” the elder said quietly, “you do not control your power.”
Her grip tightened around her blades.
“I was defending...”
“You were losing control.”
Her voice sharpened.
“They were about to attack.”
“And now they have reason to.”
That landed hard.
She looked around at the fear. The distance. The judgment.
None of them saw her. Not really.
They saw a problem.
The elder lowered his hand.
“You will leave this village.”
Silence.
No protests. No voices raised for her. No one stepped forward. Not one.
Her throat tightened.
“Right,” she said quietly. Too quietly.
She turned.
And walked.
And just like that, she had no home.
No one followed her.
That was the first thing she noticed. Not the whispers. Not the looks. Not even the silence trailing behind her like something unfinished.
Just that no one stopped her.
Azaliyah walked through the village as if she still belonged there.
Back straight.
Steps steady.
Expression unreadable.
But inside, it was louder than the collapse.
That’s it?
Her jaw tightened.
That’s all it takes?
A lifetime. Gone. Just like that.
She passed people she had known her entire life. Faces that once softened when they saw her. Voices that once called her name.
Now? Nothing.
No one spoke. No one reached out. No one even pretended to hesitate.
Her hands curled slowly into fists at her sides.
Have they forgotten?
The question burned hotter the longer it sat.
Do they not remember who my parents were?
That thought almost stopped her.
Almost.
- Writer
