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Cyra woke to a buzzing in her head, disoriented by the debris around her. She felt numb despite the dozens of cuts littering her body. She couldn’t remember where she was or how she got there. Then it hit her.
Kronos’s army.
The shrapnel bomb.
Amir.
She shot up so fast she gasped in pain. She looked down and saw that she hadn’t realized she had a large wound in her abdomen. The pain should have been unbearable, but all she felt was a dull aching pain. She didn’t even bother with it because she had more important things to do. Find her brother Amir. He was there when the bomb blew, so where was he now? Then she saw him. He was a few feet to her left, half-buried under debris and lying in a puddle of his own blood. She ran to him, not noticing the blood from her abdomen steadily soaking through all her clothes. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. This could not be real. She knelt beside him and saw the image that would haunt her for the rest of her life, however short it would be.
He was littered with cuts, and there was a large piece of shrapnel embedded in his throat that covered him in a film of blood. The skin that she could see was not the tan skin of her brother but a pale, ghostly imitation. But the most horrifying was his face, his eyes that were always so full of light, determination, and defiance, now fixed at a point in the distance, glassy and devoid of life. She wanted to scream. Scream that he promised they would never be apart. This body was not her brother, not her twin, but an empty vessel without the soul she knew. And as much as she wanted to deny it, she knew in her soul that he was dead. But she still had to try. She had to save him.
Cyra tried wiping the blood from his skin, but only managed to cover her own hands with it. She realized that maybe she couldn’t help him, but surely someone else could. She dragged his body out from the rubble and half-carried, half-dragged him through the empty, blood-soaked streets. Her brother could not be dead. It didn’t make sense. The boy who had just been so full of life couldn’t be dead. Not like Mama and Jidoo. She cried for someone to hear her, but no one answered. Where was everyone? Why now, when she needed someone, anyone, they weren’t here? She had spent her whole life helping everyone else, now they weren’t here when it mattered.
She reached a point where she was using one hand to drag him and the other to hold her abdomen to stop her guts from falling out of her body. Her adrenaline was beginning to run dry, and the world seemed to be swirling and flashing around her. She collapsed on the concrete. No, she couldn’t stay here. She had to find help for Amir. She had to…
Her thoughts felt slippery, she could barely keep them for more than a few seconds.
Her life seemed to flash in her eyes,
FLASH
She was sitting on her Jidoos' shoulders, playing with his hair as he laughed at something Amir said.
FLASH
She was at his bedside the day he died, holding the hand that used to brush her hair and play with her dolls.
FLASH
She was at the aquarium with Amir and Mama, pointing out the fish as she ate cotton candy.
FLASH
She was outside her burning home with Amir, sobbing, knowing her mother was still inside.
FLASH
Surprising Amir for their birthday
FLASH
Amir promising they would never be apart
FLASH
Amir rushing into battle even though she told him-
And suddenly her mind felt clear. She knew she was dying. There was no getting out of this one. So, Cyra laid down next to Amir on the blood-soaked street and hugged him with her head on his chest like she used to when they were kids. She thought it wasn’t such a bad way to go out. And the last thing she thought about before she died was how Amir was right. They would never be apart.