The Fatal Blade

• Maeve Black, Grade 7, McCarthy Catholic College
• Short Story
• 2022

Finalist in the 'Unleashed 2022' competition

The duo ran through the scorched trees, fire flaring at the edges of the forest. Tears welled in Lynx’s eyes as he had to run from his ruined homeland, his hand clutched onto his brown haired counterpart Kyle. Kyle looked ahead, unable to comprehend what horrors he just saw. Giant potholes and small craters covered the ground like freckles. “Lynx-” Kyle, the brown haired bow tried to speak to his friend. “Shut it.” Lynx, the poor prince who had to watch his own country fall at the hands of the Gods spoke harshly to his friend. Anger visible in his eyes, yet the sorrow was still present.
As they tried to escape through the scorched forest a divine glow hailed down from above. “Halt! Your journey ends here.” The Goddess’s long pink hair flowed in the air like water. Kyle stopped in his tracks, he was stuck in the chest by the Goddess. He slowly turned to Lynx with a sad smile, blood dripped down his chin; trailing further down past the celestial blade that had imploded his chest. Tears welled in Kyle’s eyes. The brunette let out a slight chuckle. “I guess this is the end hey? It’s ok we’ll see ea…ch oth…er soo..n” Kyle’s body went limp against the blade.
Lynx, with tears in his eyes, summoned his polearm to his aid before gracefully swooping through the air at the Goddess. One strike! The Goddess groaned. Two strikes! He wasn’t giving up, she and her kind took his future, family, friends his entire nation was taken away from him. Three strikes! The Goddess shook, golden blood seeped from her skin. Four strikes! His body shook with anger, his people were forced to carry the curse of immortality and corruption because of the Gods. He would avenge the humanity that was taken from his people. That he could promise.
There he stood, a white lily in his hand as he overlooked the nation, his nation that was destroyed over five hundred years ago. Voices of anger echoed in his head. The stones stacked on top of each other stood as a testimony and a memorial of all who lost their lives at the wrath of the Gods. Lynx cried clutching his polearm. Judgment day was coming he was going to make sure of it. Never will the Gods be able to hurt anyone again. Not if they are dead.
How he longed to see the tears of the Gods. Watch as the light from their eyes dimmed, he would laugh as they slowly disappeared into oblivion. Though even if judgment day was to come, how would he certify that it would never happen again? Will Lynx truly diminish the glorified gaze of the Gods?