Made this for a challenge. This is an excerpt from a series I have yet to write but will someday.
The filament gleaned light, ever so slightly. The lizards that called the bunker home scurried off, leaving me and prairie dust. I stood in a soundless room, amidst the posters and propaganda. “Save the Angel” “Down with the Pierce Commission” chanted the flyers we created.
I shifted my eyes to the right and saw the images of the fallen comrades. Deran the Traitorous. Forced out of Britain because of his innocence. Pavel Kuzmin. Tried to warn the workers of the First Meltdown. Stephanie Waynesford. Forced President Pierce’s hand leading to The Great Decline. Andrew Coleman. Saved my life almost twelve years ago. And I who ended it all. A fight greater than all of us and we won.
And the wings. The wings, made of forged iron and seamlessly crafted. It granted all its wishes. Now broken and cracked after 850 years. Seems unlikely they caused the fall of civilization. And yet…
The caravan was outside, waiting for me alone. I opened the door, wings now in tow. I glanced once more into the darkness that was our home and stepped out into the desert.
In the distance, I could hear that beautiful melody she would play on the piano.
