Kyrinov
][ A B S O L U T I O N ][
Ambria
Family Home
15 Years Prior
[SIZE=9pt]He shot up in his stiff bed, the force of the movement causing a bolt of pain and discomfort to climb up his spine. He leaned back and cracked his back while his mind awakened from its little fog-like disorientation that came with rising from sleep. His head cocked to one side and his shoulder popped as he bent his arm behind his aching back. [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]Fog enveloped his sitting form. [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]'[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]No, not fog,'[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] he realized as the burning smell assaulted his nose. [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]'[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]SMOKE! But, smoke means... fire.' [/SIZE]
The boy threw off the thin blue blanket that covered his small body and jumped out of his bed as quickly he could manage without hurting anything in the quick movements. He bolted out of his room and began to sprint through the twisting hallways of his home.
The smoke billowed in the narrow corridor and sank down to his height, forcing him to either inhale the toxic fumes or suffocate under the pressure of it all. With little alternatives offered to the teenager, he only took in breaths through his nose when he absolutely needed to breathe in air. His eyes flicked around him as he turned a corner and they made their way to the ceiling above.
The timber that were used as support beams were on fire and began to fall down behind him as he increased his speed to avoid being caught under one. But, just his luck, one of the longer logs tumbled down and threatened to pin him under it if he did not move in time. His legs were aching by now, as he'd taken several wrong turns, having forgotten the layout of his own childhood home. He put enough force to move himself to the side just enough. The burning wood crushing to the floor with a clank! noise.
While he wasn't trapped, his long sleeved night shirt was ablaze. The flaming portion of the wood must've come in contact with the fabric. The flames grew as he fed it oxygen with every pumping motion of his arms. It began to eat through the material of his shirt and lick at his skin. The boy yelped meekly at the first contact with the heat of the fire.
Without slowing his pace, he pulled the shirt up and over his head and threw it behind him, into the rolling logs to be properly burned. Where were Mom and Dad? They had to be here. They just had to. They couldn't be dead. They certainly wouldn't have left the house knowing he was still inside of it. So, where in the heck were they?!
The young boy stopped dead in his tracks.
He'd heard a sound. A few sounds, really. They were unique.
Distinct.
Unmistakable.
First, there was the signature whoosh! and hum of a lightsaber igniting and swinging through the burning air.
Then, there were screams. Two voices, that could only mean that Mom and Dad were in the living room. It was the only place he didn't run through in his panic.
Finally, another scream, it was deeper. It belonged to Dad. That meant...Mom was dead.
Everything was still. Silent save for the crackling of the flames.
He shook his head and fought back tears. He turned, running to the back door where he saw moonlight streaming into the house. He ran and ran until his feet propelled him through cool sand.
Kyrinov collapsed, exhausted and out of breath. His breath came hard and heavy. Then, it was shallow. There he lay, a few meters from his burning home, unconscious as one speck under the field of stars in the sky above him.