She heard the roar even from beneath the bodies that buried her. Friend and enemy alike pressed her down into the damp soot, making it more and more difficult to breathe. The battle had already seemed to rage for an eternity. She had never been so tired, and it took every ounce of effort to keep her back arched and her elbows bent so that she could breathe. It was only a matter of moments, the space of several breaths, before her life would end and she would go to rejoin the Golden Wall.
The sounds of battle continued above. The roar came again, and even though she was well out of the Consumer's reach, she shuddered. Between the bodies, she caught glimpses of flashes of color as the humans used their sigils and battled ferociously.
Another body landed on her. She sank lower, making breathing more difficult.
There was no way to be sure how long she stayed there, sucking in less and less air, pressing deeper into the soft ash beneath her, choking on the smell and the dust, but after yet another near-impossible breath, she noticed it was quiet. It took her a few seconds to notice it. The sounds of battle receded, and in the silence that settled on the battlefield, she heard the murmur of voices and a distant, triumphant shout. Hope and relief swept through her. They had won. Somehow her friends and allies had defeated the Consumer and its servants.
She took what might be one of her last breaths and yelled, wordlessly, as loud as she could. The effort made her collapse a little farther. Nearby she heard scuffling and talking, but it was not near enough.
Once more she cried out, not as loud as the first time. It was a mistake. Her elbow slipped to the side and the weight of the dead pushed her into the acrid soil. It felt like the entire world had fallen on her. She tried to breathe but choked on the damp soot instead. There was nothing to breathe, so her choking was quiet and convulsive.
The weight on her lessened. Then she was free. Strong arms hauled her off the ground and into a sitting position. She spat, gagged, and eventually, breathed.
"Breathe, beautiful, just breathe," a voice said.
A damp rag wiped the grime from her face.
"Water! I need some water over here!" The man shouted.
It took a few more breaths before she even opened her eyes. A human held her. She recognized him by the scars on his face. He called himself Razor.
"Just take it easy," he murmured.
His clothes were torn, bloodied, and his face was badly bruised. Despite a thin smile of relief, his expression was grim.
Behind him, the bodies of the dead littered the corrupted landscape.
Alethna was crying before the water arrived. Her home had been violated, and she wondered if it would be better to have passed away so she would not have to see its wounds.
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