Wednesday has come around again, and I’m happy to present this week’s flash fiction.
Fear burned Zyndelin as he raced through the Arcana’s familiar halls. He had to make it.
The words drove him forward, even as dread chilled his blood. A terror which coiled about, whispering of familiarity and misery.
Zyndelin cried wordlessly, shaking the feeling away. He had to make it. The last passages of the Arcanum vanished, and he flung his cloak before him. Casting a spell, he leapt into the waiting air.
The cloak caught, holding beneath him and carrying him away. Away from the Arcanum and toward home. Toward where his brother and sister should be.
He had to make it before they were gone.
The city whipped by as Zyndelin raced. Ahead, his home appeared, impossible close and distant. He could make it. They would still be there.
A woman, shadowed within brilliant light, stood laughing beside his threshold. She turned as he approached, eyes locking mockingly on him.
No, not her, He pleaded to himself. His mind ignored him.
His eyes locked with hers, and the world shattered.
Zyndelin bolted upright in his bed, clutching his sheets and screaming. No one answered his cries. Not his brother. Not his sister. Not even Pywien.
Alone.
Collapsing over himself, Zyndelin drew in a shuddering breath. He would never make it in time.
And it was her fault.
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Be sure to check out the other Wednesday Words authors’ take on the prompt.
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