Atticus ran past the Pantry, darting past the mob as they scattered. He glanced at the bridge. It was a distance away; it would take too long to cross it before he could get back on track to Io’s home.
Instead, Atticus darted to the river and jumped in headfirst. He swam across, scraping his shin as he pulled himself out.
Drenched to the bone, Atticus dodged fights. He weaved through the mob, pushing anyone that got in his way to the side. The crowd only seemed to thicken the deeper he went into the city.
The soldiers stationed in the corners of the alleyways were useless. Grossly outnumbered, they fought off dozens upon dozens of citizens with their weapons but were quickly overpowered. Brought to the ground and beaten with fists and kicks until they ceased to move.
Atticus noticed in the corner of his eye that as the mob stepped away from the dead soldiers, they cheered then raced to the next soldiers who promptly ran from them. It wouldn’t be long before the mob would get every soldier in the city.
When he reached Io’s house, he banged his fists against the door and yelled out their names, but no one answered. Did the mob get them? Did Edan and his men take them the moment he left? Were they alive? Were they dead?
Atticus raised his voice, the words cracking as they left his mouth. Just as he was about to search elsewhere the door opened a crack. Io gasped. The door flew open. Her eyes were wide and her face pale.
Io pulled Atticus in then closed the door behind them. Without a word she threw her arms around his neck then wept.
The young woman gripped his shirt and shook. He held her in his arms and she sank into his embrace.
Amara clung to her mother’s knee and Atticus placed his hand on her head and smiled in relief.
“I thought you were dead.” Io wailed. “After the fights broke out and how you left. I thought you were dead.”
Atticus pulled her close. “I’m fine. I’m here.” He whispered. “But we need to leave. This place isn’t safe anymore. We need to go before things get out of hand.”
Io pulled back, her brows knitted into a tight frown and mouth agape. “Where will we go?”
“Cornelius found a way out through the catacombs but we need to leave now.” Atticus said.
Cries and shouts grew closer to the door. The walls shook, dust falling from the ceiling when something bashed against the outer walls. It wouldn’t be too long before it would take over their home.
Io bit her fingernail as she rummaged through the room. She tossed various items on the bed and frantically threw things into a bag.
Atticus wrapped his fingers around her arm and pulled her away from the objects. He scooped Amara in his free arm and brought them to the door.
“We need to leave now!” Atticus exclaimed. “We don’t have time to take anything with us.”
Their youngblood burst into tears. She squeezed Atticus’s neck, her small body shaking terribly. Atticus ignored her cries as he took them outside. He glanced to his left. A group of men and women were heading toward them at uncomfortable speeds. He glanced to his right.
Another group.
An alleyway sat wedged between two buildings ahead, so Atticus sprinted forward with Io in tow. He made sure his steps were small enough that Io could easily follow. His grip on Amara was solid and her arms were glued to his neck.
The three maneuvered through the city, hiding behind statues or pressing themselves against walls in order to avoid the mob that ran rampant. As they got closer to the river Atticus could feel the hope inside him build.
They were getting closer.
They could make it.
A roaring thud sent a tremor through the city. The ground shook beneath their feet sending them to their knees.
Leaves, dirt and branches fell from the ceiling. A few landed near Atticus’s side, slamming to the ground. Atticus pulled Io and Amara close to him, protecting them from the flying debris.
Atticus’s breath caught in his throat. His blood ran cold and his heart dropped. It was far too early for the Harvest. They had nothing. They weren’t ready. What would become of them when that was found out?
Another loud thud shook the ground and walls around them.
No one could get up.
The river sloshed out of the bank onto the roads but quickly refilled.
Every citizen in Terrenus looked to the ceiling. The fights ceased. No sounds could be heard from the people as they stood frozen in fear.
Atticus held his family tightly, watching as the trees in the ceiling shook and bent to the side as the gods emerged from the pitch-black hole above.
The first god emerged. Snout first. Its long sharp teeth bared. A low-pitched growl pierced the ears of the citizens.
Atticus covered his ears but that did very little to stop the noise.
Attached to the snout was a long face with massive eyes. The color of the face was a deep red and its eyes black.
It’s neck, which was long, had spikes along the spine. Its skin was smooth and reflected light.
The rest of its body was quick to emerge. A long torso, four legs and massive claws and a tail nearly the length of its body. But the worst part about it was the wings it had on its massive back.
Once the god was fully out of the hole it expanded its wings and flew down, quickly settling itself in the middle of the road.
It stood four stories tall on all fours and stretched nearly a block long. A massive being with death in its eyes and malice in its heart. If it had a heart at all.
Two more gods descended from the hole, positioning themselves on opposite ends of the city. One being blue and the other a soft grey.
Silence filled the air. No one dared speak as they stared at the gods who remained just as quiet. Staring at them with unblinking eyes.
Why were there three gods? Why did they come in a group? Even at the last Harvest it was only one god that had shown up and he destroyed the field with little effort. What did it mean to have three? Would they be able to make it out alive? What were the gods going to do?
The first god, the red one and the biggest of them all, lifted its face and opened its mouth. “Why does the river run red?” The god asked, her voice growled with each word.
No one answered. No one dared to speak to the gods.
The red god lowered its head and peered at the citizens below it. “Will you not answer me?” She asked. The person she questioned must have answered her because the god threw its head back and hollered in laughter. “You mortals are silly, filthy and weak. Yet you waste your time fighting amongst yourselves instead of serving those greater than you?”
The red god scanned the city, letting its eyes rest on the mines. “Have you even gathered enough to excuse this atrocity?” She paused then chuckled. “I know you haven’t. So, tell me, why do we keep you around when you have proven yourselves time and time again to be useless?”
“They are a waste of time.” The grey god said.
The three nodded in agreement.
“I believe we have no more use of you.” The red god said with a sigh. “Thank you for your services.”
End of Chapter 9 (Part 1)
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