Thousands, upon thousands, upon thousands would claim a great injustice had befallen them on this day.
Robbed of a righteous victory, of justice for their fallen, for those who had been sent to fight another's war - a war in the name of one who showed at the very last to hold no regard for the lives of their kind - now never to return. The People of the Land seldom kept written records of their history, but as the flames of anonymity were set ablaze, there remained little doubt that none of what had transpired would be easily forgotten.
The relief of the hopeful few, of the handful of people who had managed to sway the minds or hearts of the vast majority of their forces, turned to celebration. Their victorious cries rallied under the banner of stars both natural and artificially summoned by astramancers, crowned by the warmth light that rose to greet another day. Another prize, another heroic tale, added to the record.
Happiness swelled and tugged at her chest, encouraging her to join her fellows' celebrations as the one outcome she had desperately strived to achieve finally became true, though as she took the first step in a group of Starcalled's direction, she would feel herself falter.
Vestiges of alternate outcomes lingered at the periphery of her vision, at first. Barely out of sight, unreachable, without the ability to cause harm or topple the foundations of the new day all Starcalled and Lander alike had woven together. Then, the clock began winding backwards, their marble hands lingering still in the eyes of the one who had manipulated such foreign magics, unable to just blink them away.
She could hear the ticking now, the volume increasing, increasing... As did the speed at which the images flashed before her eyes.
Unforeseen threats reared their ugly heads in multiple of these visions. Szofrit's body, as she witnessed it, crushed underneath the collective might of the rage imbued in the weapons of the people who called this world their home. In others, their forces had been decimated, Szofrit's unkind gaze condemning the world to obscurity under her command. Her breathing grew quicker, chest rising and falling with each rapid intake and exhale of breath as she no longer knew how to distinguish which of these realities she was to remain in.
"St... Stop. Stop. Stop!"
But she was no Chronomancer. Time wouldn't stop for her. Not again.
Nearby, the constructs that she commanded soon fell prey to the same strange affliction as she, bodies caught in a whirlwind of motion that saw them disappear at one spot, then reappear somewhere nearby, weapons caught mid-swing.
Robbed of a righteous victory, of justice for their fallen, for those who had been sent to fight another's war - a war in the name of one who showed at the very last to hold no regard for the lives of their kind - now never to return. The People of the Land seldom kept written records of their history, but as the flames of anonymity were set ablaze, there remained little doubt that none of what had transpired would be easily forgotten.
The relief of the hopeful few, of the handful of people who had managed to sway the minds or hearts of the vast majority of their forces, turned to celebration. Their victorious cries rallied under the banner of stars both natural and artificially summoned by astramancers, crowned by the warmth light that rose to greet another day. Another prize, another heroic tale, added to the record.
Happiness swelled and tugged at her chest, encouraging her to join her fellows' celebrations as the one outcome she had desperately strived to achieve finally became true, though as she took the first step in a group of Starcalled's direction, she would feel herself falter.
Vestiges of alternate outcomes lingered at the periphery of her vision, at first. Barely out of sight, unreachable, without the ability to cause harm or topple the foundations of the new day all Starcalled and Lander alike had woven together. Then, the clock began winding backwards, their marble hands lingering still in the eyes of the one who had manipulated such foreign magics, unable to just blink them away.
She could hear the ticking now, the volume increasing, increasing... As did the speed at which the images flashed before her eyes.
Unforeseen threats reared their ugly heads in multiple of these visions. Szofrit's body, as she witnessed it, crushed underneath the collective might of the rage imbued in the weapons of the people who called this world their home. In others, their forces had been decimated, Szofrit's unkind gaze condemning the world to obscurity under her command. Her breathing grew quicker, chest rising and falling with each rapid intake and exhale of breath as she no longer knew how to distinguish which of these realities she was to remain in.
"St... Stop. Stop. Stop!"
But she was no Chronomancer. Time wouldn't stop for her. Not again.
Nearby, the constructs that she commanded soon fell prey to the same strange affliction as she, bodies caught in a whirlwind of motion that saw them disappear at one spot, then reappear somewhere nearby, weapons caught mid-swing.
