Page 280 of Of Sins and Sacrifice

A loud explosion lights up the sky as the walls of that beautiful construction crumble to the ground. Dust and debris flies toward us. The ground, too, is shaking underneath our feet.

This is not the only building being leveled to the ground. Right and left, more bombs drop from the sky, some hitting the targets while others simply fall on the street, making huge holes in the asphalt.

I hold on tightly to Mine as tremors similar to an earthquake make the entire foundation of the city shake.

Screams erupt in the air. So many pained, wailing voices, I wish I could close off my ears to them.

Just as the physical world reels from shock as building after building collapses or catches on fire, so does the spiritual world.

Messengers line the street all around, herding confused souls toward the afterlife.

“This isn’t right,” Mine whispers.

“It’s war.”

“Perhaps, but this…this is never warranted.”

Right as the words are out of his mouth, the scream of a child pierces the air. We both turn toward the source and witness a little boy on fire run out of a building. His clothes are burning badly, the flames seeking to engulf his skin.

Mine gives me a look.

“No,” I say immediately.

He purses his lips and sighs.

“I cannot…” I add in a low voice.

Yet what I see in his eyes shocks me, the disappointment, the dead expectations.

Shaking his head at me, he runs out of the cover of our shield, going straight for the child. He takes off his coat and swats it at the areas where the child’s skin is on fire.

Seconds stretch into an eternity as I stare at them, alone in my little bubble. Regret slowly eats at me even as I tell myself all the reasons why I should not get involved.

It’s not right.

People will die. Humans are fated to die. If not today, then tomorrow. And if I save someone, then someone else will die in their stead.

Death comes to all.

Yet even knowing that, an uncomfortable feeling settles in my breast.

I watch as Mine continues to care for the child. More bombs go off around him. More fires spark to life. He doesn’t budge. He is steady in his conviction as he continues to help.

The child looks up at him and after thanking him in German, he tells him his sister is still inside the building.

My eyes widen.

“Mine, no!” I call out.

He half turns, his profile shrouded in darkness and the shadows of the dancing flames. His resolve is resolute.

Telling the child to come to me, he dashes toward the burning building.

“Fräulein,” the child mutters uncertainly as he steps closer.

My instinct is to ignore him and shield myself from human eyes. But the look in his eyes, so hopeless, so pained, makes me extend my hand toward him.

And when he grabs it, I take away some of his pain.

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