Dyrun rushed into the small hall. A typical fyllian house it was, floor was covered with lush grass... once, at least. Under the heavy, gray sky; it looked dead. So did the house itself.
The house was neat, yet carried the spiritlessness of a dead, washed body; ready to be cremated. He tried to catch his breath, peering around the hall. He rushed in one of the rooms, somehow panicked.
"My girl," he could say. "My girl, where are you? We have to leave. We are all outside. We are leaving."
Then he stopped talking to listen the house. He perked his fyllian ears to hear one little sound. He eventually heard a small child's weeping, as if whispering. He turned towards that direction, and slowly walked.
"Dheinach," he whispered with compassion, he was still breathing fast. "Dheinach, it's me. Father. Come to me, girl."
He then heard the girl weeping and sobbing louder.
"Come to me," he repeated, with a recognizable sorrow in his voice this time. Then, a little girl came out under one of the tables, running towards her father. She hugged his leg.
Dyrun slowly kneeled, hugging back the little girl, rubbing her back with reassurance.
"It will be fine, my child," he sighed with relief. "We will be fine. We must go, Dheinach; we have to leave our home. We have to find another."
"What about... Eruìl?" sobbed Dheinach.
"Eruìl, ah," said Dyrun, the question apparently left him wordless for a few seconds. "He.. will be okay, as well, my child."
"I don't want to leave my friends, I don't want to go!" screamed Dheinach, her weeping and sobbing turned into a dreadfully heart-smashing cry.
Dyrun couldn't tell her that none was alive.
...
"We have to make haste," said one of the evacuation officers to the mass waiting at the gates of Syera. "Quarantine area is filling up, and our evacuation squads suspect an airborne plague. The prioritized citizens shall be sent to Inland Ossax immediately. The runners must have reached to N'ya, we hope."
Dyrun turned to his mate. "This is a catastrophe," he whispered, he did not want to panic his children further. "The city almost wiped out. I can't believe it."
"Our children will be safe, love," said Shinas, Dyrun's mate, calmly. "That's what matters the most." She looked exhausted; apparently her calmness was not of her racial cold-blood but exhaustion instead.
"Families Scharren-El'nar, Duinarch, Nolbran, Iliur-Dornon, Dai'ruch and Eawaroch, to the convoy number seven," yelled one of the officers holding a list. "Furthros, Namaen, Gelnach, Serrotar, Chinach, Bronael, Kloa; to the convoy number eleven. Make haste."
Dyrun and Shinas were of Scharren-El'nar, one of the most reputed family merges in Syera. Expectedly, they were amongst the prioritized citizens who are to be evacuated immediately. Dyrun led the way to the convoy seven, and the rest of the family followed him.
"Mother, where do we go?" asked Dheinach, with red, worried eyes. She was so tired of crying; she could barely stand up now.
"To another city, my child," she replied, with a warm smile on her face; as much as her physical state allowed her to cover her sorrow and tiredom. "To the fyllian capital, I presume; N'ya."
"But why? Why are we leaving, why are people dying? What is wrong with our house? Are we going to die as well?" she asked with a weak voice.
"No, no, we won't," said Shinas, turning around and hugging Dheinach. "We won't. This I promise you. We will have a new house, a new life - among our brethren. We will be happy again, my child. Don't you worry now, and trust mother and father."
Dheinach nodded, but her worried expression remained.
They arrived at Convoy seven, enlisted themselves. Shortly after, the Convoy left Syera with other prioritized convoys.
...
Dheinach had three siblings: one sister called Einuchar and two brothers; Damyrion and Faary'n. She was the third eldest after her two brothers. Einuchar was the youngest. Dheinach was almost as strong as his eldest brother at the age of twelve; which was about equivalent of a human age of six. She had a fierce character focusing on protecting her loved ones, and she was raised in awareness of her character by her parents. She knew how to control anger, vengeance and hatred; but she had plenty inside, among fear. At the age of twelve, she witnessed how her town wiped out because of an unknown and fast spreading disease, and now she had to leave her beloved Syera. "Too much," said Dyrun to Shinas, when they were about to leave Altor region. "That is too much for infants and children to witness. This is beyond comprehension."
In about three weeks, they reached Faernaen Passage, into Southern Orbh Forest. They had breaks every two days where they established camps to rest and feed. After about twelve to sixteen hours of rest per day, they carried on their unavoidable journey into Ossax.
...
"Father," said Dheinach one night, when the convoy was camping about Eastern Galdwin. "Father, there is something wrong with Einuchar. She is trembling. Sweating, too. She calls for you in her sleep. Father!"
Dyrun immediately got off his tent, and he woke Shinas up while doing so. They rushed into Einuchar and Dheinach's tent. She, indeed, was trembling, sweating and she had a severe fever. Dyrun could not move for a couple of seconds.
"Medic," he could whisper. "MEDIC!" He ran out shouting.
...
"Symptoms resemble the plague, Dyrun," said the physician, just outside the tent after his examination. "She needs to be quarantined and left behind if the case is severe. I am deeply sorry. The authorities will not risk the rest of the convoy - including the rest of your family."
Dyrun could not react. Shinas started to cry silently, hugging him; Dyrun had his eyes fixated on a random spot on the ground. His eyes were wide open, his mouth dry; he couldn't think. The words coming out physician's mouth were echoed. Vague. Unclear. Foggy. Sorrowful.
He felt like the world was falling apart. He felt as if it was raining blood. His own blood.
Dheinach watched her parents just outside the tent, without knowing what to think. Her brain was tortured, as well as her heart. She, as a child, could perform the only method of expressing things at her age: she cried, again, a lot. Silently. Alone.
...
Authorities granted the permission for the family to stay behind with their girl, when her case was diagnosed to be a severe and terminal one. They were handed masks to avoid infection. Dyrun packed up everything but Einuchar's floor bed after the convoy left. He did everything he can to make the girl comfortable. Every second was more of a torture. She was trembling dreadfully, sweating and her skin turned a brownish green with all the heat that the body could not take anymore.
She screamed... all night. Trembled. Called for her parents. Shouted. Cried. Weeped. The pain was almost visible. Agonizing. Unbearable. Dyrun was literally aging with every minute passing, with every scream her youngest daughter let out. The entire family was overwhelmed with sorrow in half a day. It was too much.
Eventually, the pain overwhelmed the young fylla, and the next morning she lost consciousness. They had nothing to do.
Shortly after, Einuchar suffered a slow and painful death. She was in pain until the very last breath she took.
Dheinach could swear that something inside her parents died along with her sister. She was overwhelmingly sorrowful, but even after decades, she still remembered it.
She never forgot.
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