L O S T
A Continuation of The Lesson
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EzgGTTtR0kc
By the end, Mysa had pressed the distress signal more times than she could count.
When the twisted children had leapt, Mysa had fought to stave them off. Battling with the path she had to take, the knowledge that while their lives had already been taken by another, they would ultimately need fall at her hand.
They were just children. Younglings who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Who had been forced to tear their own Master limb from limb. Mysa had looked into the eyes of a monster this day, and he had fled her grasp. Leaving her, leaving them...
How long she had spent fending off the children she could not say. Eventually though, something had snapped within her and the compassion left her entirely. Gone was the careful, considerate young girl. In her place a beast running on instinct, necessity.
Now she sat within the halls of the old Temple, on some world she couldn't even remember the name of, where the previously white marble floor was stained red. Her blood. Their blood. That of the demons. Whoever's had been in the cauldron which had fallen over during the battle.
Rocking back and forth, bleeding from several gaping wounds, blood matting her usually stark white hair, Mysa pressed and pressed and pressed the distress signal. Over and over and over again. In the end there were six bodies that were not her own inside the room with her.
Master Fer'u was in several pieces, severed at the hands of the children. Bak'tu and Jirun, the younglings who had first attacked, were in two. The other three... That was a blur. From the looks of them they had been savaged by some wild beast, yet they each had one distinct burnmark through their chest.
Mysa did not look at them. Mysa did not look anywhere but at her feet, clutching her knees with one hand where she sat.
She could not escape the stench of death, though. The metallic sting of blood which drifted on the air. The sulfuric residue left behind by the igniting of a saber.
Nobody had come, yet still she sought them out. Her finger was stiff and sore from how many times she had pressed, sent out her SOS, yet she did not cease. Could not. She just sat and trembled and rocked and pressed and waited.
Waited for the return of the demon she knew had been watching.