Unexpected travels: Storms

Prompt #95

 

Bombs reverberate through the air as I secure my mask for our supposed "Final Offensive." Orders are to transfer to the Forward Operating Base with the rest of my platoon. Communication with the Major General has been silent since he joined the front lines, so we hope to check on his safety before concluding this brutal war.

"My master, I am ready for combat!" declares Beejanu, her red and black dress resembling a mushroom ruffle as she stomps on the ground.

I glance toward her, wondering why someone as young as her is heading into her first combat. The Federation must truly be on its last legs. Despite accepting her into my charge, it feels wrong. "Bee, you could stay here if you wanted."

She looks at me, asserting, "I want to go! If Master is going, then I am going!" Her squeaky voice resonates with childlike innocence.

Approaching her, I suggest, "You stay behind me, alright? I want you to watch, not experience."

Her eyes sparkle, and she salutes. "Yes ma’am!" she exclaims before stopping midway. "I almost forgot!" She giggles and hands me a pair of purple glasses. "The whole platoon made this for you! Now we both use glasses!"

Surprised, I ask, "How’d you know?" I take the glasses and notice a magical inscription, tucking them under my witch hat. "Let’s get going; high command wants us there by dawn."

"Aren’t you going to thank me?" Beejanu protests with a pout.

"We have to go," I reaffirm, my cape swaying as I traverse the damp airbase hallways. "Meanie!"

I open the heavy metal door to the dangers of war as fresh air rushes in—a last whiff of good air for a while. Despite the evening hour, the clear weather reveals a large gathering of mages on the helipad, brooms and wands at the ready. I signal the platoon to move.

It's going to be a long flight, but at least I have my books packed in a satchel attached to my broom. I grab one and begin reading. "Why don’t you use the glasses? It’s a good time to test them out!" Beejanu appears, supporting a wide grin.

Putting on the glasses, I notice my books and broom glowing with intricate writings. "What is this?"

"It shows you the material composition of anything!" Beejanu flares her arms. "The platoon poured all their magic into it for 5 months!"

"No wonder their performance dropped," I scoff. "Don’t ever do this again without my permission."

"Hey, at least say thank you!"

"Thank you—," I pause, turning on my radio. "Storm ahead, men, slow your brooms and increase your altitudes to 13 thousand meters."

"Roger that, lieutenant," comes the reply.

We ascend through dense clouds, and as they clear, I notice the absence of my platoon. The radio is static, as if searching for a non-existent signal. Flying back into the clouds, it's clear. Smoke and grime vanish, revealing a vast expanse of forests and mountain ranges. The air is fresh, and the flora looks healthy. Where am I?

I land, observing the serene surroundings. Trees seem similar yet different. It’s getting dark, so I make a fire with a few sticks on the ground. "Maybe the glasses could help." They categorize and provide statistics that help me see whether or not the sticks are useful or not. A small campfire illuminates the flora in a warm red hue as I gaze at the night sky filled with stars. "Guess it was worth the drop in performance," I tell myself as I drift into sleep.

 

 

 

 

(I tried my best in writing, I'm not a writer, I'm an artist but it was fun nonetheless!)