129th of Nemulum, 313 EA
Peyr Myarsa
Leça burst out from darkness into sunlight that was somehow more blinding. They rolled out through the forced hatch, scraping their knees along the wooden planks. Their breath came to them only sporadically, and the muscles in their arms burned from helping lift people up the ladder to this safety.
All all around them, people of the lowest district streamed up out of the cracks in their flee from the swamp’s reach. They stumbled, mostly, or huddled down against the ground, disoriented.
“Leça!” They heard their name cried out amidst the panicked calls echoing all around.
Slow to react, Leça felt the wrap of Leo & Kasha’s young arms in a hug around their back and side before they fully registered them.
“Grace of old Myarsa,” Alisja joined, along with their father and her husband both looking worse for wear, “You made it out.”
“I got out,” Leça repeated from their fugue, their gaze drifting out into the raised district they now found themselves in.
“We thought-” Tears stained Marek’s face, “When you fell, I didn’t see you again.”
“I got out. I got some others out too.” Leça spoke with more clarity, properly hugging the kids back as their expression went crestfallen. “Some.”
Alisja read Leça’s tone an instant. “Marek, take the kids off for a second.”
“No!” Kasha whined, “We have to stay together.”
“It’ll just be a moment, not far.” Alisja reassured, helping her son and daughter up and passing their clutching hands to their fathers.
Marek nodded, pulling the children away to leave space for Leça to speak.
“Who was it?” Gustow asked in a gentle low, resting his hand on theirs like he had done when they were still young.
“Mikhal,” Leça exhaled the fallen name and began to tremble. “Mikhal was brought down. He was covered in the demons, I saw the muck streaming down his throat to drown him.”
Gustow let out a disconcerting sob.
“I saw something, some of the conservators.” Leça continued, noting the expectant fury forming behind their sister’s eyes, “They wouldn’t help him. They called him heretic, they let him die.”
“Those sanctimonious bastards.” Alisja hissed, her fists balled. “They ought to have been the ones to have drowned.”
“Keep that down,” Leça glanced around nervously, but through the chaos they were hardly being noticed.
“It’s true, and you know it.” Alisja’s acerbic tongue cut into Leça.
“That’s not how things are meant to be, though.” Leça’s voice rang in hollow unease. “That there are those amongst the conservators who would let a member of their community die, over words, it’s a perversion.”
“They are never the ones to drown.” Gustaw intoned with resignation.
“Well then this must be brought to the attention of the high abbess.” Leça spoke again with a cracked conviction. “The high abbess could carve out any rot in the conservators, if she only knew where it was.”
Leça’s view drifted up from calamity, up through streaming sunlight to the peak of the city of Peyr, and along that drift the distance between that height and them seemed insurmountable.
The Etra Anthology 