The Awakening of Lightning

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Cannons, drilled into the side of the mountain that cradled the town of Thar, brought down anything that flew over it. They had laid dormant for over twelve years, maintained to a glistening shine by the cadets that polished them daily while the senior officers drank and gambled.

Life in Thar was simple, and nothing ever really happened. The town, nested into the side of the mountain, was a hub for traders and travelers from outer provinces. Buildings, cramped into each other, sprung with the boisterousness of the merchants and the rowdiness of the officers that flocked the pubs since early morning.

Lueken stretched and sighed in his room above the establishment while Uma tended to the customers below. “I don’t want to hear another word about joining POD,” she had said, carrying a tray toppling with bread and overflowing ale. “They’re a horde of drunken slimes that only take advantage of their title.” The tray slammed into a table full of soldiers who started gobbling immediately. “I did not clothe you. Fed you. Took care of you while you were sick. Give you a roof and a bed for you to become a part of them.”

There was no point arguing with Uma, yet Lueken was always up to the task. Out of all the children, Lueken was the oldest, and the most rebellious. Uma had guessed he was around a year old when she found him deep in the woods of the Valley. He had been small and scrawny then, covered in dirt, scrapes, and flees. After twelve years the only similarities where his dark hair—almost blue—his green mischievous eyes and wide grin, and his spirited personality. The image of Druen popped in the back of her mind as she lit a pipe by a yellow stained window and took long puffs. They were so similar, she thought, after all, boys will be boys.

The older sister was supposed to take care of her baby brother, but Druen was never fond of the idea: he wanted to do his own thing, never listening to anyone else’s advice. “Well, that’s your experience. What does it serve me?” he would say to the neighbors that looked after them. It didn’t help either that he had always been the tallest out of the two or that Uma was always there to scold him whenever he got in trouble with the resounding words: I told you so.

Uma could still clearly picture his young face bright with naiveness, his dark hair tide tightly into a ponytail, and his dark blue eyes shining with a fire that could consume the world if not tamed. You’re not my mother were the last words he ever said before running to join POD, the same words uttered by Lueken before storming up to the room he shared with his siblings.

“Mommy.” A kid no older than seven looked up at Uma with worrisome eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not your mother, kid.” Uma tapped the pipe against the counter, ashing the burnt herbs onto the floor. With a deep sigh, she rustled the hairs on the boy’s head. “I’m alright, sweetie. Just don’t turn out anything like your big brother,” she said, managing a smile that shifted to worry with the reverberation of an explosion. The shockwave broke through the glass window, shooting shards into the crowded area and collapsing the supportive beans on the ceiling.

Uma knelt on the floor, sheltering the small body of Regis with hers. Blood gushed down a slash on her face and her shoulder throbbed where a wooden bean had fallen. The pandemonium that consumed the establishment was drowned out by blaring sirens, calling the town to seek shelter in the bunker built inside the mountain. “It’s going to be alright,” she reassured a crying Regis. “Where’s Umbar?”

Her eyes scanned over the room filled with bodies and through the rushing patrons and drunken soldiers chasing after the promise of safety. She demanded Regis to hold on tight on her back and scrambled over the bar counter searching for Umbar. She spotted him under a table and pulled him out from under before the falling debris collapsed on it. She scanned his body with her hands, searching for any scrapes or broken bones. Realizing Umbar was unscathed, she squeezed him by the shoulders. “Where’s Shae?” she asked a dazed Umbar. Her thoughts were spilling out, the safety of her children the only thing keeping her on the move.

She picked up Umbar into her arm and raced up the stairs that trembled with each blast. Regis held tight around her neck, his arms squeezing with every sob. She stomped into the bedroom, rearranged by the explosions. Her voiced cracked as she screamed for Lueken but there was no one in the room.

Before the first blast, Lueken was spread out on the bed. His long limbs dangled over as he stared at the poster of his hero: Commander Riken, inciting him to chase down adventure. A toy rifle, which Shae had built for his tenth birthday, hung from its straps over the poster. It was an exact replica of the rifle Commander Riken used on his adventures broadcasted on television, and Lueken had wanted one the moment he laid eyes on it on a merchant’s kiosk, recognizing it immediately as Riken’s long bow of truth: capable of bringing the mightiest beast down with just one shot.

His eyes had shimmered as he pleaded Uma for it. She quickly put an end to his tantrum with just one glare. That same day he had come home with the rifle wrapped in sheets. Uma obstructed his path the minute he sneaked in, demanding to see the contents inside the bundle. Next morning, with puffy eyes and a missing tooth behind a swollen lip, he returned the stolen rifle back to the merchant. His days after were consumed with shores: he swept the floors and washed the dishes for five weeks straight. There was no playing outside with the other kids or his siblings or sneaking out to watch the adventures of Commander Riken. Uma had even wanted to rip the poster off the wall to shreds.

“I hate you,” Lueken had wailed that night before crying himself to sleep. He didn’t know that Uma also cried that night alone in her room. She had been too harsh, but it was necessary. The kid was out of control, only responding to dominance and brute force. Like a constant nightmare, the image of Druen popped in her head. She had kept him at arm’s length, and in returned, pushed him away. She wondered where he was: If he was happy. If he was fed. If he was loved. She didn’t sleep much that night, plagued with thoughts of what could have been.

“Did you learn your lesson?” she had asked Lueken the night of his tenth birthday. Lueken nodded without looking straight into her dark eyes, sharp as Riken’s long bow of truth. She kissed him on his forehead. “Lueken, you deserve everything in this world. Happy birthday.”

Shae strode into the room with the biggest grin. Her buoyant hair bounced on her head and her brown eyes were magnified by the goggles strapped around her plump face. On her long lean arms, she cradled a gift wrapped in brown paper. Behind her, Regis and Umbar held a cake over their heads, both singing happy birthday off key.

“I designed it myself,” Shae said with arms on her waist. “Exact replica down to the last screw. But with a little bit of the Shae touch.” She cackled, prideful of her creation. Lueken's eyes had filled with tears as Uma wrapped her arms around her children. “Protect your family, Lueken,” Uma said. “They're the only thing that matter in this world.”

Lueken was already off the bed when the furniture toppled over with the shockwaves, the rifle strapped over his shoulder. He rushed to the window, leaning half his body through, and stared through the apertures in the buildings, trying to spot the beast flying above the dark clouds of smoke. With ease, he climbed out the window and scaled up the side of the wall until he reached the cracked tile roof he used to sit on whenever he got into an argument with Uma. Below, people raced up the stairs that snaked up into the town’s main square, trampling over each other as they chased the blare of sirens.

The cannons fired up into the sky. The explosions rippled within the clouds like thunder. The earth trembled. A wave of hot air battered Lueken as he held to an antenna on the roof. Above the clouds, the shells crashed into a massive shadow that loomed closer over the town with every blast. Lueken tighten the rifle on his back and leaped off the building.

Uma hastened up the stone stairs, shuffling through the multitude of people that pushed past her. Regis and Umbar, glued to her body, trembled with fear. The alleyways were filled with a thick cloud of dust and the cries of anguish. Uma had urged Regis and Umbar to keep their eyes shut at all costs but there was nothing she could do about the wails and the screams that echoed through the town.

Pandemonium erupted in the main square as an avalanche of rocks tumbled down the side of the mountain like a rushing river, bringing down one of the cannons crashing into the middle of the plaza. The weight cracked through the stone, bursting into a wave of fire that swelled through the nearby buildings. The stench of grease, alloyed with the acridness of burnt flesh, dispersed through the area covered in piles of ash and debris.

Uma sprinted toward the bunker: a metal hull cramped into a carved hole in the mountain built in a time when dragons inhabited the Valley. She avoided the rocks that crashed from above, making it past the heavy bolted door and into the safety provided by the sanctuary. “Stay calm, everyone.” An officer in a pressed clean uniform shouted from a dais. “Keep moving. Keep on moving,” he chanted as three other officials gave out directions.

Around the room the lucky children cried in their mothers’ comforting arms. People gathered in circles, speculating about the events while others found a quiet corner to be left alone or to drink. With every newcomer that made it safely into the room, everyone asked if they had seen their loved ones, a neighbor, a friend, or they wanted news of the situation outside the bunker: Was it really a dragon? What is POD doing? How many dead? The questions bounced off the walls, not getting answered.

Uma made it past the dais when a hand grabbed her shoulder. She yelped in pain, biting down on her lips until they turned purple. “Uma, my dear?” Kila looked deep into Uma’s dark eyes filled with tears. “This is not time for crying, my dear Uma,” she said in a sweet lull, guiding her to the back of the room and away from the ongoing commotions. “You need to be strong. For the children.”

Kila was the oldest resident of Thar according to Uma—she even had an ongoing joke with Druen that she was as ancient as the trolls that roamed the forest. Uma did not recall ever seeing Kila as a young woman, not even when she was a kid and Kila brought Druen and she fresh fruits when they were hungry and medicine when they were sick. To them, Kila was the sweet old lady that appeared whenever they needed her most.

“Now, dear, there’s no point in rushing out there in your condition,” Kila said while gently rubbing her hands over Uma’s bruised shoulder. “Knowing those two, they should be fine.” A cooling sensation spread over Uma’s shoulder, burrowing under her skin, and soothing her muscles. Uma had never felt such a sensation before. It was as if her body was stitching itself together from the inside out. She didn’t know why Kila would put herself in harm’s way for her: magic was illegal and dangerous. She would have been safer outside in the chaos than in a room filled with POD officers.

The Regime had always been afraid of the things they could not control. The arcane arts were tabooed soon after their rise to power, forwarding civilization into an era of technological enlightenment. Magic was caused for execution. Anyone with any information regarding the occult was rewarded or faced the same outcome as those who practiced it. Long before Uma had been born, the Regime had crusaded throughout its sister regions, harrowing the land of any magic across its path: Towns and cities were burnt to the ground. Bodies were hung or tossed into dug out graves to burn after being douse with oil, some even still alive. While others were captured and experimented on.

“Shae is such a wonderful and bright young girl,” Kila said, her hand pulsating with heat over Uma’s cheek. “And Lueken. Oh, that boy reminds me of Druen. Spirited and brave.” She looked at Uma, her eyes now dried and the gash on her cheek faded to a thin scar. “They are strong kids who take after their mother.” She clasped her hands together. “Good as new,” she said. “Now go. Find Lueken and Shae. I’ll look after these two.”

Uma took one quick glance at Regis and Umbar, both exhausted and sleeping next to each other. “Thank you,” Uma said but she knew it wasn’t enough to repay Kila’s kindness and trust. Once all of this was done, she will treat her to meals and drinks for the rest of her life, she thought as she hurried off into the chaos.