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Falling Sky: What Myths Are Made of
By Myths n Wraiths

    “You new to Japan?” The voice was halting and struggled with the foreign English language. Even with its imperfect words it was as beautiful as the gentle, pink lips that spoke it.
    “Yes, I am very new to Japan,” Myth replied, unable to suppress a wide grin and hoping that he wasn’t blushing in her presence.
    A father just died; a husband, a man.
    She was exquisite in a simplistic way. Her small, slender, Asian frame was concealed by robes designed for agility rather than appearances. Her wide, dark eyes set perfectly in a sea of milky white skin. Her round, elegant face was shrouded by the longest, darkest hair that Myth had ever seen. The midnight locks where a garment in and of themselves, falling loosely around her shoulders to her thighs.
    Myth could have soaked in her presence for hours, and would have if it weren’t that…
    Another one died. He was as young as I, too young. His mother will weep for him… if she lives long enough to find out.
    “Myth is your name? You have no other?” She asked, pulling her bare legs up close to her body while taking a seat in the sand. She absent mindedly brushed the grain of the beach from her ankles while staring intently up at Myth. Her every move seemed graceful beyond his understanding, her every look begging him to fall more deeply for her.
    Shrugging off a note of embarrassment that he tried to pass for indifference Myth stated, “It’s the only one that matters.”
    “Myth means great story,” She replied, with extra emphasis. Then almost whispered, “but no one knows it is true.”
    Myth nodded to her somberly, trying to keep the darkness from his eyes, trying not to scare her away from his secret shame. He would hide it from everyone in the world, but not her. He didn’t want to hide anything from her.
    “Why you chose this name?” She persisted gently in faltering English.
    “Because, I am told that no one my age has ever had such strong empathic powers.” He spoke mournfully, slowly, almost ashamed.
    Two more passed on. At least in death they were not alone.
    “The truth is though that it is all a lie. They aren’t my powers at all.” Myth continued, his voice taking on an abrasive tone. He sounded almost angry as he stated, “They were forced on me.”
    A leader has been slain, someone who others looked to for guidance, someone who no one expected to die.
    The anger quickly faded into a faint humiliation. “I am great… but it is all someone else’s doing. It is not truly me.”
    She stood up off of the hard wood floor of the dimly lit bedroom. Weren’t they supposed to be on a beach? Did it even matter? She drew close to him and rested her finger tips gently on his hard jaw. Her touch intoxicated him, sending his emotions reeling in unrestrained anticipation. All of his shame, fear and doubts fled in her presence.
    “You are great. You decide what is true of you.” She said purposefully.
    Myth wondered at her words. He did not fully understand them, perhaps what she meant to say in her own native tongue did not transfer well into his, but Myth did not have to understand what she spoke to believe it. When she was this close to him, when she was looking with those eyes at him, words were not needed. He felt he could do anything in that moment if he only committed to the strength he drew from her.
    He could commit, he would commit if it weren’t for the fact that…
    Someone’s daughter would never be coming home again. The only smile anyone ever saw from her would be in pictures of times long past, if even those survived this day.
     “Focus!” The word broke into Myth’s ears but it was not her voice. She didn’t even seem to hear it so Myth paid it no mind. He did not need to be told to focus on her. What else could he do but focus on her?
    It took a mass of huge glowing disks in the sky to distract him from her presence. It took the most unexpected and unnatural event to ever occur on this planet to pry his attention from her face.
    It took a direct order from his mentor and surrogate father to convince Myth that he would have to say goodbye to her. The words carried the same weight as a death sentence.
    “We have been recalled to Paragon. There is no time to pack, we board the plain in forty minutes.”
    But there was time for a goodbye, there had to be time for a goodbye. It was brief, it was bitter. The kiss that she placed on his shaking lips burned into his heart. The tear she shed for his parting drowned his senses and sunk his reason.
    One more- no two… no three. They are passing like shadows in the light.
     “Stay focused Myth!” The voice shouted at him again. But how could he. He had left her. The flight was only supposed to take a fraction the of standard transit time in a supersonic jet but it seemed like an eternity without her there. All around him Myth could hear reports flying and updates being shouted. Massive invasion, all the world’s major cities, aliens of unknown origin. Not a single answer that didn’t raise more questions.     Then the words came that stilled his heart.
    “Without a major military presence it fell to the heroes of Japan to protect Tokyo. They were sorely outnumbered though and we estimate a seventy percent casualty rate among their ranks with more falling every minute.”
    He knew what that meant. He didn’t have to be told. She was fearless, she was loyal to her duties and country… she was dead.

    The hollow and all encompassing blast of an impact explosion lifted Night’s Wind off of his feet and sent him and his sidekick spiraling through the air and crashing into the charred pavement. The sudden numbness from the explosion was pierced by the biting, burning sensation of crumbling cement grinding into the master of nether energy’s flesh.
    Shaking the fog from his mind and ignoring the pain, Night’s Wind forced himself to his knees and began to stumble toward the young form of his prostrate apprentice.
    “Myth!” He shouted approaching the still motionless body of the teenage hero, who lay face down on the street. His voice was barley audible over the constant crescendo of automatic fire and discharge of the alien’s energy weapons. Still the young mutant did not move.
    Reaching his battered and bloodied body, Night’s Wind pulled Myth’s upper body off of the pavement and flipped him over to check for wounds. To his amazement the prodigal hero was still conscious. His eyes were clenched shut and tears were streaming down his face despite the fact that all his wounds appeared to be superficial.
    “Snap out of it Myth,” Night’s Wind shouted, slapping an open hand across Myth’s face. It did little good to get the young hero’s attention so Night’s Wind drug him to his knees and grasped his head in both hands.
    “Myth!” Night’s Wind shouted again, shaking his head roughly. “Snap out of it! You have got to focus or we are all dead.”
    Blood shot eyes snapped open with fierce focus. Myth lunged forward and shoved Night’s wind to the ground. “She’s dead!” He screamed in a hoarse voice. “I can’t focus on anything. There is nothing left.” Tears poured freely down a gritty and smudged face that was contorted in an agony that came from within the young hero and not from his wounds.
    A scream of horror rang out over the crash of battle around them. It was quickly joined by another and then another as the fear that was caused by insurmountable odds and certain death settled on the soldiers and heroes in the immediate area.
    “You hear that Myth?” Night’s Wind said struggling to his feet and meeting his apprentice’s broken glare with one of resolve.
    “That is the sound of abject horror. If it is aloud to exist on this battlefield then we will all die Myth,” He stepped in close to the young mutant and grabbed him by the shoulders of his tattered and grimy T-shirt. “But you can stop it Myth. You are an Empath. If you feel no fear then those around you feel no fear. If you have clarity of thought in chaos then the people around you do as well. You can give these soldiers the power to fight on; you just have to stay focused.”
    “On what?” Myth spoke in almost a whisper and shook his head. “What is there in my life left to think of that is any better than this?”
    “Myth,” Night’s Wind pleaded. “These people will all die.”
    Myth’s bloodshot dark eyes drifted off his mentor’s battle hardened face and over to the nearby barricades that constituted the front line of the battle for Skyway City. Soldiers, Marines and Heroes alike huddled behind piles of debris, sand bags or in shallow craters and exchanged fire with a relentless and vastly superior enemy. In a blink of an eye a handful of lives passed away in a hail of relentless energy blasts and for once Myth did not feel their passing. The numbness was setting in.
    Night’s Wind saw the change settle on his young charge. The tears stopped flowing and the pain was fading from his face. That one seen, more than any other he had seen in the past few days brought fear to Night’s Wind’s heart.
    With a cool, even gaze Myth looked up at his mentor and said, “Then let’s die with them.”

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