Noise and color, blending, reverberating, echoing, smearing. Paints splattering with every throbbing sound. Blood rushing to his ears. Pain shooting through his spine and neck. Wetness behind his head. Paralysis. Objects forming…perhaps…trying.
A white light blinding him. A face coalescing—a familiar face. It stops swirling.
Golden hair. Blue eyes. Lyrical voice.
Kyrie!
She is looking right at him. Fear and relief mingling in her beautiful face. She is tapping his cheek. “Look at me,” she is saying. He keeps looking at her, hypnotized.
Angry voices behind her. She is shouting at them, but her voice is vanishing in the noise. She looks away to argue.
Blacking out…
* * *
An engine rumbled.
Jaysynn slowly opened his eyes, fighting for consciousness. He was lying on his back. He felt a warm blanket covering his body. He blinked to clear his vision and saw an arched gray ceiling above him. Under him, the floor shook slightly. He started to hear dozens of voices around him. The tops of upholstered seats appeared at the corners of his eyes.
A small brown-haired boy appeared above him. The boy smiled in surprised delight. “Kyrie, he’s awake!” he exclaimed, looking away.
Jaysynn heard footfalls rush toward him. Then Kyrie, her blonde hair forming a halo around her face, appeared before him. He suddenly felt safer.
“What…happened?” Jaysynn asked, moaning in pain.
Kyrie stroked his head. “Try not to move too much. You’ve been out cold for three days.”
“Where…am I?”
“You’re on a bus with me and my family. I followed you to the Hall of Records and saw you fall out of the window”—she leaned down to whisper in his ear—“Jaysynn.”
The young man’s eyes widened and he lurched to sit up, but pain and Kyrie’s hand joined forces to stop him.
“Don’t worry. I explained everything to my family.”
“You told them?” shot Jaysynn, coughing.
“I had to when I took you to our home to tend to your wounds.”
Jaysynn inhaled and exhaled in a panic.
“They like you. They always have. Both as the prince and the Watchman.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. Then he asked, “But why are we on this bus?”
“I told you we were leaving the city to seek refuge somewhere else. A smuggler with a bus that runs on steam offered to take us to his city. He says it wasn’t as devastated by the Cataclysm.”
Jaysynn tried to sit up again, but his muscles were too stiff. “Please help me up.”
Kyrie told the boy to get off the seat, which he did, and she helped Jaysynn slowly sit on that seat. The young man leaned his head against the window. A blob of light smothered his vision as his eyes adjusted to the sunlight. He heard several people—children and adults—exclaim praises in his honor.
“What happened after I fell? How was I not found by the soldiers? Why did you bring me with you? Who—”
Kyrie covered his mouth with her hand. “I’ll explain later,” she said, smiling. “For now, just rest.”
A voice from upfront—the driver—exclaimed, “We’re here!”
Jaysynn glanced out the window.
He saw a dilapidated green sign that read, “Welcome to Falcon Point.”
END OF
THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF KYZER
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