Ezra's arms are the only thing that could hold her up.

She is numb.

He holds her in his arms, her legs are at crooked angles.

She killed him.

She killed Kaleb.

I killed Kaleb.

The words swirls and swirls around in her head, never faltering once. The whispers in her mind were repeating her thoughts just as much, the buzz eating at her ears so much it itched behind her eyeballs like hell.

She killed him.

The wind dried all her tears. She wanted to weep the same way that  this girl was— making a scene balling her eyes out over someone she didn't know. Why the hell was she all over him?

Cleo didn't need to care about that anymore. It was like the wind bled her tears dry. She could not summon any. She feels dead inside. Her features looks like it was chiseled from ice. Dead and gloomy.

When was the last time she felt this empty and cold?

Where are the opiums when she needed it?

She could feel the numbness. Slowly creeping up from below, like vines twining around her legs pulling her deeper into the earth — tightly wrapping around her thighs and then her waist and chest and finally her head.

She feels heavier and heavier, like her body has begun to fail. She can feel the earth drawing her in, she needed to succumb to her death inside a hole with absolutely no way out, after getting in.

Or perhaps she could wither away with the wind and allow the rest of her body to turn to ash and form part of the atmosphere. Suddenly the thought of death didn't scare her. It certainly didn't scare Kaleb. So she could go too. To show her loyalty. To show that this wasn't what she wanted.

He would understand.

They could form a relationship in the afterlife.

Who needed her anyway?

She has nothing to live for.

She's not going to make it.

The whispers could die down too if she left. Cleo would get peace at last.

She takes another look at the blood soaked earth. The girl trying to get the blood back in, sobbing her lungs out in the meantime. There is so much blood.

And it was because of her.

It feels like there is a concrete block inside of her chest, blocking any sort of emotion to enter and exit. She just feels nothing. She could barely feel her own body, her skin feels old, rubbery and dry. Her legs feel like jelly and completely paralyzed, she couldn't initiate any sort of movement. They are just twin pillars of lead. Dead lead.

Lastly her mind. A vast space of nothing. It was like she was just born; knowing nothing. Not being able to differentiate the things before her. Her mind is washed clean. She doesn't know half of what happened.

"Cleo. You're in shock, let's get you out of here."

The trunks around her waist tugs hard. But her leaden legs refuses to move.

She can't leave him.

"Cleo."

The voice seethes this time. Angry and fed up with her.

But she did the next best thing— she uses all her might, willing her numb arms to forcefully push Ezra away from her. It was like moving past a brick wall, but she willed up enough strength to get him away. To which he obliged.

      
                                                     °°°

              
                                                     EZRA

Time just flew.

A spilt second after Cleo pushed him away — mini tornadoes of fire began to open from the earth, the ground parting like its the queen and out splat heavy hues of blazing fires.

There were so many at once Ezra could not make out where the hell Cleo was. He couldn't even look through the fire to see a hint of a shadow or sign of her. He looks to his right to where the girl continues to cry over the corpse of the King of the Guard. He pitied her really.

He then picks up the bloodied sword Cleo dropped and makes his away around the fires trying to get closer to the center. But just as he did, a sphere of flame flew nearly directly into the middle of his face if he hadn't ducked in time.

He looks in the direction of where the flame came from, and could see her back. Her scarred hands ablaze and so were the tips of her hair and edges of her dress.

She was deranged.

The death must have hit her so hard that she has lost her mind by setting the entire plane on fire.

Ezra was about to make his way towards her to draw her back to him again, but another tornado sprung up into his path. The fire is hot enough to scorch him to death if he hadn't moved again. The sweat on his body began rolling down, tickling his skin.

But there were just too many fires. It was surrounding her like a thick forest; as if she were either keeping something from coming in, or keeping them all out. He went for the latter.

He moves away again, glanced at the girl now looking up at the bewildering fires holding the bloodied body to her chest; then back to the fires blazing loudly it took away the sounds of the music coming through the doors.

The guards has come Ezra noticed. Too late for his liking, but they came and looked all too mystified. Without their King of the Guard to guide them, Ezra could only imagine how lost they must feel.

More and more fires appeared so fast he could barely keep up with how many formed at a time; but it looked like every gap got filled with the fire, like filling up the blank spaces caging herself in.

His chest begins to hurt. His throat dry and eyes burning like there is acid being poured into it. It burned even more to blink.

He couldn't even get to her, the amount of space was too narrow to squeeze through without him having to scorch off his sides.

What the hell was she trying to do? Burn her entire Court? Cleo didn't care about many things. But her Court wasn't one of them. She wouldn't let these people die at her own hands.

He needed to find the mage. That wicked sick mage.

He scans the perimeter but sees nothing, just guards coming closer with their weapons bared — three aiming for him; they must have thought that he caused this.

The only way to get past the fire was to walk around it, meaning to collide with the guards already shouting orders to get water to tame the fire.

He surreptitiously makes his way behind a big boulder, crouching behind it. The wicked flames began to thicken, smoking out the perimeter and very soon the entire Court would be up in flames.

The sky this time begins to change too. Turning completely grey. Like swathes of it decided to change into a different colour for the fun of it. But Ezra frowns and stretches out his neck, seeing the sky darken even more, until it became nearly pitch black. The only source of light, is Cleo's blistering oval of fire.

The shouts and commands increased tenthfold. The guards becoming more insistent.

Ezra curses under his breathe, not liking this one bit. He flicks his gaze over the boulder; the guards who were looking for him at first were gone, their attention elsewhere. He breathes a sigh of relief. Not like a boulder would do justice in the first place.

The temperature decreases, Ezra sensed goosebumps filtering onto his skin, something that rarely ever happened to him — or to anyone for that matter. A shock goes down his spine, allowing him to search the area again. Before him the fire still blazed wildy, now fully enclosed with Cleo in the center of the maelstrom. Besides that was the girl now laying lifeless on the already dead body. Ezra didn't have the time to check whether she was breathing as well.

The guards have come with healers and nurses, more courtesans— all flanking the entire courtyard. If Ezra were the King of the Guard his first mission would be to get everyone away from here to their safety as soon as possible;  but now it looks like everyone ought to be involved in this enigma.

Most of the attention was spiked at Cleo's entombed shell.

Behind him is the iron-wrought fence. Where he could easily escape and keep himself away from this madness. That is what he should be doing but his feet refused to move. Cleo is what was keeping him here. He curses again.

He decides to move out but there is a change in atmosphere. Everything was slowed and blurry, as if he had too much to drink. But Ezra knows what it is.

He stands up straight this time, seeing the shield that Crawford must have created separating the shell from the villagers and guards. Everything behind the shield went on as normal, but inside the shield the world slowed and blurred. The sky above, that began swirling like grey and black snakes has slowed too.

Crawford slowed the time.

He didn't know Ezra was inside the shield.

He picks up the sword and goes to the center again, to where the caccoon remained, warming the icy outside. Even lifting his palm against the heat was enough to make the sweat drip.

But now he needed to do something.

"You don't look very familiar."

Ezra freezes. The voice comes from behind him. He slowly turns around with sword in hand facing Crawford's insanely absurd face.

Crawford clicks his tongue and runs his eyes up and down Ezra's figure before meeting his stone cold face.

"How are you not affected by my shield? This shield could practically zap a human alive. Yet here you are with not a hint of a scar." He frowns, taking in his tight suit again.

Ezra keeps his hand stiff but steady around the pommel of the sword. It still reeks of blood but that didn't bother him more than it should have.

"Where's your tongue?" Crawford demands clicking his rings together in a brisk clap.

"Get her out of there." Ezra replies coolly.

Crawford first looks at him strangely for a moment, like he was surprised Ezra could speak; but then he bursts out laughing in a high-pitched tone.

He was even bent over his knees, holding his hand to his chest before his laugh turns into a wet hard cough and he slaps his wheezy chest to clear it away.

Ezra turns away disgusted.

"Her? Not my concern. If I knew she had two lovers that would have made my job a lot easier." He says completely smug.

Crawford continues. "Who the hell are you anyway?" He takes a step closer towards Ezra his fingers stretched out with dark shadows twining around his rings.

Ezra quickly looks away up into his cold dark eyes looking very close to turning him to dust. "Ezra."

"Ezra. Ezra. Ezra." A frown. "No, it doesn't ring a bell, shouldn't you using your massive body in the arena where bandits like you belong?"

"Get her out."

Crawford gives a fake laugh, looks down to his feet, scans the length of the shell and back to him again.

Faster than anything Ezra has ever seen a fist is launched right into his jaw so hard it knocked him over. He falls to the ground and groans in protest, tasting blood. He gets onto his side and sees Crawford shaking his wrist out.

"Bloody hard jaw you have Ezra. Since when do you make the orders?" His lips are pressed into a straight line as he looks down at him.

Ezra spits out a thick wad of blood, the inside of his gum swelling. He didn't know Crawford —who didn't look like he had any muscle on him —could punch hard enough to draw blood.

The thought angers Ezra even more and he shoots up with the  sword and shoves Crawford as hard as he could which only skidded them both but not enough to get to the ground.

Crawford pushes himself away and curses.

Ezra takes the sword this time and arcs into the space Crawford stood in but he moved away. Ezra does it again and again, feeling the familiar sword dance he has done since he was a child. Crawford used his powers however to teleport away each time, chuckling at him wickedly.

He keeps still, till he can sense his presence behind him but doesn't give in because that would chase Crawford away again. He feels him coming closer and closer with each heartbeat. But he doesn't turn around to dissect the man just yet, instead he stomps his foot and with lightning speed turns and grabs his body before flipping him over onto his back.

Crawford falls flat with a big gasp and immediately goes to choke Ezra above him. The man had a strong chokehold, limiting Ezra's airway nearly to nothing at all, he could see the veins popping up on Crawford's forehead, his neck cold like the weather.

Ezra must have looked the same. His head felt like it was going to explode, so heavy and tense. Full of pressure. The damn rings were so cold it stung his neck but Ezra refuses his leave his scrawny neck with both hands.

Ezra groans and Crawford does the same, choking as his face turns blood red with hues of blue, his eyes watery. Ezra's swollen lip was dripping blood that fell right onto Crawford's suit.

He eyes the sword to where he dropped it a few feet away. If only someone were here to just end his life already.

Ezra knows this man. Knows his plans. It's about time Crawford finds his end.

But he remembered that he couldn't. Not just yet. As much as he wanted to choke him to death, something inside of him didn't feel right about it.

He slowly releases his throat already seeing his red handprints against his stark skin. Crawford releases his grip too. Both sucking in air as Ezra got off him.

Ezra's heart beat so fast he could feel it against his chest, hurting his chest with each beat. Like a rock being thrown against his ribs.

Crawford had difficulty breathing again too. The wheezy chest is back and so was that awful cough.

Ezra gets to his knees with Crawford right behind him when he gasps loudly. It stung. Crawford's rings  somehow cut his throat, not deep, but only shallow cuts tickling his neck with blood as it ran down.

But that wasn't all. His side feels numb. When he looks down he sees the same sword that Cleo killed the man with; penetrating  right through him. More and more blood begins to pour out. It is below his ribs, the intent wasn't to kill him straight away, but to bleed him dry as Crawford finishes his business that Ezra was supposed to stop.

But Ezra halts, and shakily gets to his onto both his feet, his body wavering. The pain excruciatingly painful it caused a massive migraine to break out at the right side of his head. The stab didn't sting as much as he hoped it would.

He didn't detect any movement from Crawford behind him. He took that as his opportunity to turn around to face him.

Crawford looks at him with wide eyes, his eyes widening even further as the blood that was pouring out— begins to drip slower and then finally stopped.

Crawford meets his eyes and looks back and forth between where Ezra still held his sensitive side and his face; as if Crawford didn't believe what he saw before him.

Crawford lifts the even more blood-soaked sword and and arcs again towards Ezra, this time aiming to slice his head cleanly off.

Crawford was fast, but Ezra beat him to it. Before the sword could impact him, Ezra shoots out his hand grabbing ahold of the sword the metal not cutting his skin at all, because his hand begins to glow a soft white with hues of gold, like a beautiful sunset.

Ezra grinds his teeth hard. The exertion wearing off him from this small power. His other hand remains on his side, the tissue and ligaments inside not entirely healed yet, except for his skin outside. So he still felt slightly sensitive. The pain lessened too.

Crawford watches his hand, seeing the glowing bubble around his entire body and eases the push of the sword.

He gasps and steps back, his hand going to his chest looking absolutely bewildered. "You're a mage."

Ezra says nothing. But drops his own hand and lets go of his power fast.

Crawford is white in the face. Pale. Almost sickly. Ezra could have sworn he saw the shield around them become weaker by a minimum.

He looks at Ezra again with calculating eyes. "How the hell is that possible?"

Ezra doesn't say anything again. Just looks at him coolly and unborthered.

Crawford takes a step closer to him. Sniffing the air between them. "You're damn good at hiding your power. I can sense nothing on you."

Ezra grimaces. "Get her out of there. Please."

Crawford snickers in response. "Not a chance. She's burning herself. I didn't cause this if that's what you're thinking. This..." He motions to the fire site by making a small circle with his forefinger. "... Is her own shit."

Ezra feels rage sizzling down his body. Her own shit.

"Just get her out of there."

Of course Cleo would do that. She killed someone and this was how she would punish herself. Ezra didn't know if she wanted to kill herself or just hurt herself badly until she couldn't take it anymore. Either way Ezra needed to help her.

Crawford smirks and begins to pace. "You're a mage yourself as you can see. So get her out yourself."

Ezra grinds his teeth. He is starting to lose his damn mind standing here. "And you're the one who caused this shit to happen in the first place. You shape-shifted didn't you?"

The smirk never left his face. "Of course I did. How else would I lure her here to end her life?"

Crawford continues. "But lucky for me, she is already in the process of doing so. So kiss her goodbye." He then turns his back and heads towards the motionless girl.

Ezra starts. "I know your plans. I know that you want to raise Mother Earth."

That made Crawford pause and turn to face him slowly. Guilt on his features. Then he slowly steps toward him and swallows hard sending Ezra a knowing look.

"You don't know anything."

"I was where you were. I know what you need to do." Ezra swallows the rock in his throat before continuing more slowly. "And I will help you. In exchange for her life."

Crawford was right about one thing. Ezra could help her himself and easily kill Crawford. But his powers hasn't been used in years. He is now weak. Like a fledgling learning how to use its magic from the beginning. He kept it hidden for decades now nearly to the point of extinction until he summoned it.

Something he forbid himself from doing. But failed.

Crawford sends him a revolting look. "How can you possibly help me in exchange for her? I need her dead in order for this to work. She's doing me a favour."

"No."

Ezra glances to the shell his eyes trying to search through the shell to see if the fire became weaker but it didn't.

"You need her power. Not her."

The next words pained him to the core. His mouth became bitter and his chest hurt. He thought he was getting a heart attack, but his left arm wasn't numb. So it was only tension. Tension all over his head, like ropes being wrapped around his entire being and tugging in all directions trying to dismember him. That's how he felt.

It feels like his skull was being splintered into two. His heart is racing too hard and fast, it is palpitations, his heart skipping too many beats. His gut churns, like it's filled with poison rising up his chest and the back of his throat. His side even though it was healed, felt like it was being pierced again and again over and over.

His legs. God's. He felt worse than he looked. He couldn't even move his own legs. He didn't want this happening. He should have taken his opportunity to bugger out of this. Crawford was right again. Ezra destroyed everything.

Without another word a powerful black beam that looked like a smoky snake erupts from the palm of Crawford's hand and directly onto Cleo's shell, so hard the shell actually loosened and broke off at that section.

Ezra turns to watch. Wanting to see what the hell she was doing inside to herself.

Eventually the shell of fire caved in. How ironic it was to see it melting away to reveal Cleo in the midst of it all and how she fell down right to her knees. The shell broke away easier than he imagined.

Ezra raced towards her, without glancing to Crawford and immediately hefts her too hot body into his arms.

He kneels down with her over his thighs, her skin piping hot to the touch and coated in sweat. Her skin has a red tinge to it roo, indicating that she was overheating too much inside the inferno.

Her bright pink lips are parted slightly allowing  husky and wheeezy air to fill her lungs. She was struggling to breathe. Her nostrils flares wide with each inhale. Her  damp hair is layered right onto her face so was the remainder of her dress.

But Ezra could relax. She was alive. He presses his forehead to hers a slimmer of a joyful chuckle leaving his lips.

She wasn't trying to scorch herself. But instead limiting her air slowly until there was nothing left to breathe and she would die. It's a painless but slow death. Something that didn't sound like Cleo at all.

But she was alive.

She would need plenty healing, but she will pull through.

For now. He thought. A sinking feeling falls into his chest, remembering the trade he made with Crawford.

That would be another curse for another day.

He pulls away and watches at the remnants of the fire — now smoke wafting around the area, thickening all around the area inside the shield. It was  hard to make out what happened before him.

The smoke tickles his lungs only slightly, not enough to cough but he needed to get them out of here.

He looks back down and hoists Cleo into his arms for the hundredth time and looks down to her rosy cheeks one more time before walking away from Crawford who had to have disappeared in the smoke and towards the inside of her Court.

"Ezra!"

He turns around to see the silhouette of narrow set shoulders and a very laid back walk coming right up to him. The smoking giving way to Crawford and his grim expression.

Ezra says nothing. Only sends him a questioning face.

Crawford didn't once look down to her face or to the way Ezra holds her in his arms. He only jerks his thumb  behind him to where the woman was crying over the dead body.

Ezra frowns and nearly drops Cleo when a shift in the earth happened, the ground at their feet parted. Ezra takes a step back not wanting to drop Cleo and himself into the ditch that formed, as the earth splits asunder revealing dark ground and sand the smell similar to petrichor.

He looks over Crawford's shoulder to where he waved away smoke to reveal the woman burying  Kaleb thickly in the earth. The twines and roots wrapping around his dead being like snakes pulling him deeper and deeper into the earth. Grass blooms around the figure, sand became thicker and more. Until he remained buried, as if he was laying there for decades.

Ezra's heart drops again. His blood running cold. His vision clouded and his fingers shook so much, this time he nearly dropped her.

The earthy scent is so strong, he could barely smell the smoke.

Crawford didn't even spare her a mere glance. Meaning he knew. All along.

"In order for this to work, make sure Cleo kills her first."

Then Crawford snaps his fingers and the silence turned to a ravaging noise. Shouts and screams of villagers. The shield went down. And Crawford disappeared from plain sight.

Ezra didn't even realize that the guards were before him demanding he drop her body; didn't realize that he stood there like a cold stone rock, not moving.

There were suddenly so many people, all gathering around. Crying. Screaming. But he couldn't move.

He couldn't believe that the Elemental of Earth is alive.

He saw his last glance of her before someone struck his head hard enough to see stars and his vision went black.

There was another one alive.

  THE END