Tears stream down her face. The voice feels like waves crashing against a cliffside, the crash like thunder pounding in Yuexia’s head. Water fills her lungs and spills out of her mouth. her body no longer feels like her own, drifting through the waves and drowning in the currents of her mind, dragging her farther and farther down. She feels like she's drowning in the currents of her mind, pulling her down farther and farther down. Yuexia doesn't realize she's been wailing, her voice scratches against the walls and she crashes against the rocks. Her knees sting with the fall.
The doors crash open, thundering footsteps filling her ears, fighting against the cymbals of her screams. She doesn't even hear the frantic calls of her name over the turbulent waves. The shouts get louder and louder as she reaches the top of the waves. Yuexia splits the surface and feels like she can breathe again. She clutches at her neck, talking mouthfuls of air. Two Sentinels are on their knees, one holding her upright and the other holding onto her face. Polaris and Ataegina, her closest confidants and her favorites among the Sentinels. Polaris holds onto her face, shouting unintelligible words as he calls out for more help. Ataegina rocks Yuexia against her chest, running a hand through her hair soothingly. They pull her from the waves a crumpled heap, disfigured and broken.
.
7:00PM, The Zenith of the World, the Month of Harvest
The sky blooms gray, the clouds stand still, and the obelisk in the center stands tall. Only one person moves in the middle, gliding through the battle like an ice skater in the rink. Yuexia swings her blade, cutting through hordes of demons as they dash towards her. The blade cuts through one and disconnects, forming a chain blade. The sword’s end wraps around one and cuts into its neck as she wraps the chain around her leg and pulls down. The demon lets out a howl as it crashes to the floor. Before it can get up, Yuexia’s heel is already on top, she lifts it and then her foot comes crashing down into the demon’s head. She spins around, the gore from the demon’s head on her heel and bloodstains on her robes. She continues to slash, punch, kick and smash; in a fluid continuous movement, her blade disconnects and reconnects at the call of its master.