Page 135 of The Orc Outcast's Miracle

She didn’t want to move. She wanted to lie down and accept her fate. Follow everyone else she’d ever known into the abyss. Where she was meant to be.

She was supposed to be dead.

She wailed and screamed and walked across the endless desert. Walked backward.

There was nothing for miles.

Nothing but endless wasteland.

And road signs pointing her ahead to the ocean.

“Go to the ocean. There are people at the ocean.”

It wasn’t a sign.

It wasn’t a fucking sign.

It was light. White distorted light.

Screaming at her.

Blaring right into her mind.

She worked backward still, all the way back to the city, which was no longer a city. To the buildings that were dust. To the roads that were rubble. The stench of ash.

To the vent.

No, no, no! She couldn’t go back inside! She couldn’t go back into that vent. Please, god, anyone, don’t force her back inside!

But she already was—crushed, panicked, scrambling, and screaming.

Something tugged her, pushed her.

A body. A body made of light.

The eyes were like fire and she couldn’t look at them. Couldn’t look away. She had to get out. It was too tight. She couldn’t breathe. The vent was too small.

The light drew nearer, and went into her, forcing her apart at the seams.

She continued backward in time.

Her body began to deteriorate.

Her flesh blistered.

Her hair sizzled.

Her saliva boiled.

She screamed and screamed and screamed.

Her body was a husk. Burned alive.

She had not escaped the explosion.

She had not survived the inferno.

She was dead.

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