But before Belei could react, the walls tumbled and blocked the alley behind them. Belei looked to Gordel. He could see the sadness in her eyes, watching one of her own in battle. But that was not the sadness he saw. It was the sadness of betrayal.

“He resented me Gordel.” Belei said. 

The whole group looked at her in confusion. 

“What—who resents you?” Curon said.

Gordel smiled. “In time, they won’t. They will cheer for joy.” 

Belei returned the smile with a forced one. 

Zenji then decided he was not getting enough attention and outright screamed. All the soldiers, including Curon and Flauk, turned in annoyance. 

“Can’t you turn him off?” Curon asked.

“He is a child!” Belei said. “He is no machine or device like your radio!”

Curon sighed. “I just don’t want to die today.”

Belei glared, but then tried to calm Zenji as they kept moving down the street.

Then, she stopped moving.

Curon turned in annoyance, until he saw the fear on her face. From around the corner behind them, one of the battle mages from the squad walked into the street, hand held out—towards Belei. The soldiers raised their guns to fire, but froze as the battle mage’s other hand, palm forward, came up as well. 

“I can’t move Gordel. I can’t—” a tear fell slowly down her cheek.

“Silence, traitor.” The battle mage said, harsh, articulated Controlite voice cutting deep into her.

He then pushed his palm outward, the hand that was facing the rest of the group. Like a burst of wind blasting them backward, the others flew through the air and landed with a series of crunches. They laid still, none moving. 

A few more tears ran from Belei’s eyes, Zenji unnaturally quiet.

“It’s time you return, Princess.” 

Belei began to slowly move backward, an unseen force pulling her back with the battle mage as he walked. Her feet scraped across the ground as she was pulled, completely out of control.

Gordel sat up slowly, aching from several broken bones in addition to his bleeding leg. He watched as his wife and son were pulled away from him, away from the future they had spent so long building. 

“Belei…” Gordel said, whimpering from the pain, inside and out.

Curon slowly sat up, holding his side, a trickle of blood coming out of his mouth.

“Cursed mages.” Curon said. “No gun is good against them. And maybe none we invent ever will be.” Then Curon noticed Gordel and looked in the direction he was looking. 

“Who else can move?” Curon asked. A few pained moans sounded from the soldiers.

A second battle mage ran from an alley between them and the escaping battle mage with Belei in tow. In a quick movement, the mage brought up his fist in a punching motion. The walls, stones, and glass of the buildings on each side of the street ripped free as if a wave of power moved down the street towards the wounded soldiers. The wave towed the debris in a terrible torrent and deposited the mass of stone right in front of the soldiers, creating a wall between the retreating mage with Belei, completely neutralizing the squad of soldiers. 

“Sergeant F—” Curon cut off once he saw Flauk. 

Eyes wide and distant, the color had left Flauk’s face. 

“In all that is holy…” Curon said. 

Flauk’s body was mangled and twisted, having fallen at a most damaging angle. His chest was covered in blood, several rib bones exposed through the skin and green uniform which was slowly being completely soaked with his blood. 

“We can’t give chase.” Curon said. He stared forward in disbelief, eyes distant. “Medic, report.” 

“Sir,” the medic began. “I think I’m able to assist. No bleeding, but a sprained wrist and a few fingers dislocated. I was the lucky one.” He started popping his fingers back into place with a series of pained groans. 

“Get to work soldier.” Curon said, pulling out his radio. “Start. Men down. I repeat men down. This is Captain Curon. Casualties and serious injuries sustained. We are in need of urgent assistance. Two streets away from the harbor. Medical assistance needed. Secretary of Internal Affairs wounded, and his wife and son have been kidnapped. End.” He dropped the radio and sighed, wincing with pain.

“My wife…and son…” Gordel said, eyes on the piles of stone and glass shards. 

Curon looked at the debris. “I’m sorry Gordel. We’ll find them. I promise.” 

Gordel didn’t respond, lost in a trance and pain forcing his mind to dull. In the distance, Zenji cried.

“Belei!” Gordel yelled, as loud as his lungs and ribs would allow. He then broke inside, tears flowing freely. He rested his head on the ground and slowly relaxed, then his whole body fell to the ground, air leaving his lungs in a soft, final sigh.

Curon’s eyes went wide, then red. 

“No…Gordel. Medic!” He rushed to Gordel and hunched over him, trying to get a pulse. A wave of contortions enveloped his face as he glared at the rubble in anger, a vow of retribution building in his heart. 

Down the street and past the debris, Belei tried to hold Zenji closer to stop him from crying, but to no avail. The battle mage grunted in frustration.

“Shut that abomination up.” The mage said.

Tears ran more fiercely down Belei’s face, some falling onto Zenji’s chest.

“I’m sorry, my dear,” Belei said. “I have failed Progress. I have lost my family.” She looked down at Zenji, who was staring back at her, as if asking, What’s wrong, mommy?

As Belei looked into Zenji’s eyes, she saw something else.

Hope.

Quietly, she said, “Don’t you worry, Zenji. We will get out of this. I won’t let them hurt you. Ever.”

“What’s that, traitor? Did you dare speak?” The mage said.

Belei didn’t respond, tears having turned into determination.

Then, Belei was suddenly in a covered cart, doors closing around her, bringing in the darkness. The cart pulled away, beginning the long journey back to Control, many hundreds of miles away. Back to the Empire. Back to Belei’s father.

“I will not let him have you.” Belei felt for Zenji’s little fingers and wrapped her hand around his. “I will not.” 

The bumping of the cart continued for some time, rocking its occupants in a lulling rhythm. The combination of Belei’s exhaustion and the rocking cart, her eyes grew heavy. 

A jolt from the cart woke the two, Zenji beginning to cry while bringing Belei to a cold panic, forgetting where they were after waking. She looked around, remembering their lot, then began to ease Zenji to calmness.

Then, Zenji suddenly silenced, seeming to fall asleep in the darkness, cradled by his mother. All seemed to freeze as if time past into nothingness, leaving existence to suffer in frozen anguish. The cart ceased moving, the air stopped blowing, and all voice and sound dwindled. 

Absolute stillness.

Zenji opened his eyes, a maturity to them no infant could achieve, a depth of age coming to them. And in them was a single message to his mother.

Peace. All is well, youngling. 

Were those words she was hearing? No, it must have been her imagination.

Out of the stillness, a low rumble sounded under the cart, shaking the dry wood of the vehicle’s frame and wheels. The stillness slowly ebbed into the rumble, sound returning to the ears of those in the cart’s interior. The captors outside the cart began to yell out orders and the small caravan outside with the cart grinded to a halt.

The rumble grew.

A soldier ripped open the door to the cart and inspected Belei and Zenji, looking for the source of the rumbling. He looked at Zenji.

Then Zenji closed his glistening eyes.

The rumble became a quake that rattled the earth with a shaking to tumble a city to dust. The soldier looked around in horror, reaching for his sword. As he pulled the weapon out from its sheath, both his arms snapped like twigs, forcing him to drop the steel blade. 

He cried out in pain and as he turned to run, but something threw him away from the cart and out of sight, his cry going shrill as he flew far into the air. The quake continued, more cries of confusion and emotion sounding outside until eventually, there was nothing but the whispers of a crackling fire. That’s when the quake finally ceased, a stillness returning to the cart, but not the same absolute stillness from before. It was the stillness of finality, of ending.

Belei looked down at Zenji, who’s eyes had opened and his normal baby-self seemed to return. She looked at him in awe.

How could a child be full of such power?

She eased herself up and out of the cart, Zenji clinging to her arm. She stood tall and surveyed the resulting eeriness outside. 

The cart had met up with a small caravan of Controlite soldiers since leaving the city and nothing remained standing. Horses, men, flag posts, wagons. All were laid low as the dust except the cart where they had been. The disaster spread out from the cart like a wave, it the center of the slow-rising smoke and smoldering fires. 

Belei looked around at all of it, seeing the large cracks across the road and all the destruction. Stones of the ground had been torn up and thrown, a ring of debris on the outside of the destruction. It was as if a wall of power pushed absolutely everything outward, away from the cart. 

She pushed the awe away, trying to get a grip of their location. They had managed to come many miles since leaving the city, time having somehow gotten away from her unexpectedly. The sun was falling rapidly and they needed to leave. At least it was summer and the night would not be dangerously cold in that area.

“We will be fine, my darling.” She said. Zenji merely stared at her. “I cannot imagine what you will become, Zenji. I fear for the enemies you will one day have.” 

As she hefted Zenji to a more suitable position in her left arm, she picked through some of the soldiers’ garb—a hooded cloak in the Emperor’s Green, her family’s Green with stripes of blue for Control, a short dagger, and a hefty purse of coin the size of her fist. Then, she began the long journey home, back to the Empire of Control, the only other place where she knew she might get help and a warm bed for them both.

As was the goal of her mission.

This world would soon drastically change, whether those in Control, or Destruction liked it or not.