| Escaping Eden By Danielle Devon |
His gaze slipped over the warning lights on the
flight panels out the casement to the skies beyond.
Instead of a pink horizon choked with smoke, he
saw the planet’s surface fill his view. “Kia-me,” he
swore.
He took hold of the column and pulled back, fighting not only the downward descent of the ship, but
the weight of his own body that wanted to tumble
after it. Beyond the casement the ruddy ground
approached, the roar of ripping winds beyond the
haul drowned out the alarms alerting him to the
impending impact. The ship pummeled into the
unforgiving rocky terrain, the underbelly skidding
across the surface of the planet like a child’s plaything.
The ship collided with the tower of red stone.
Trave was thrown forward against his restraints.
His head smacked the cockpit hatch; the sickening
thud that reverberated in his mind was drowned
out by the cries of crushing metals.
Smoke billowed out from the ship’s panels. The
ship gave one long, last shudder before losing all
power and falling silent. The smoke rose up, clogging his nostrils, closing his throat, suffocating him
with its hot, ashen breath.
He fumbled blindly for the release on his restraints. Smoke continued to gather in the small
cockpit as the release finally gave and he struggled with the hatch. He drew in another smokefilled breath, felt the darkness creeping in on him
as he heard the sweet click of the hatch.
***
Low in the mountains, the cool winds lapped at
her face, stirring her midnight hair. The moonlight cast down upon her, highlighting the cobalt
overtones that framed her face and making them
shimmer like streaks of cerulean against a velvet
canvas. Satal tucked the wayward tendrils behind
her ear as she rested one boot-clad foot upon the
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rocky face of the ledge.
She cast her gaze skyward. The purplish hues of
the late night sky were blackened with the funnels
of billowing smoke that rose from the smoldering starcraft. Below she caught movement as a
body emerged from the ship. Her heart lurched in
her chest . . . a survivor. Her pulse quickened as
the possibilities pricked in her mind. They were
here, within her reach. One part of her, perhaps
the smartest part of her, told her to turn about and
forget what she’d seen. Yet another part of her, a
familiar voice inside her, begging for help, refused
to yield. This is our chance, sister.
***
Trave drew in a sharp breath, fresh air filling his
chest and making his lungs burn. His head lolled
back as he slumped down the charred side of his
broken ship.
Though his watery vision, she appeared as if from
a dream. Her skin was pale, the china white a
startling contrast to the multi-toned dark mass of
curls that cascaded down her back. Shimmering
blue locks of hair stirred about her face, framing it
in a soft shadow.
Was he dead? Was this heaven? Perhaps he
hadn’t escaped after all. Perhaps his body was lying battered and broken in a pool of his own blood
while his spirit and his mind travel heavenward,
leading him to eternal rest.
As she reached out to lay a soft, pale hand to his
temple, his apparition became painfully real. Despite the warmth and tenderness of her touch, he
was forced to shrink away from her hand as a raw
ache exploded through his head. It flared behind
his eyes making his vision darken and blurred.
She breathed out a heavy sigh before letting her
hand slip away, “Kes de sha,” she whispered
softly.