cassandra

Lucius Faversham found himself screaming in silence. His mouth wide open, throat straining; no sound emerging. Bolts of bright, violet energy pulsed above his head, screaming for him; he felt the intense heat singe his hair, even the stubble across his jaw and angular chin. Somehow, he continued to run.

The creatures had come from nowhere. Whether they were from another world, or dredged up from the caverns of Perseus below him, Lucius had no idea. Nor did he care much. All he cared about was getting away, surviving. His home burned to cinders, he had nothing left – nothing but Cassandra. Nothing but his violin.

After being on the run for days – scavenging in the ruins for food, catching minutes of sleep whenever he could – he almost didn’t recognise the sound of a human voice in the lull between the seemingly-random energy blasts. He paused momentarily, beginning to question his sanity, when he heard the sound again – not just human, but a human child.

Peering cautiously out of the crevice in which he lay, Cassandra held protectively beneath him, locked tight within her case, Lucius saw the hulking, crab-like creatures in the distance. Fully three times the height of man, their silhouettes were all sharp edges and long, sinister curves. Lucius had seen first-hand what those sharp edges could do. Thankfully, they appeared distant enough not to bother him for the moment, and he turned his attention to the sound. It had faded now, to barely a whimper. Nearby. Very nearby.

Lucius had only to crawl through a few more metres of rubble – the wreckage of a factory, he suspected, judging from the chemical smell – and he found a hole half-hidden in the ground. No light emerged, and his hopes raised a fraction. Perhaps this was one of the prep shelters he had heard of in the early days of the invasion, where the people of Perseus had fled to in order to reach the hidden escape shuttles. Maybe, just maybe, he would survive this after all.

He spotted three of the alien figures turning towards him, and quickly slithered down into the hole feet-first, Cassandra cradled gently above his head. There was no light, but the subtle glow from the smoke-filled sky outside served to illuminate the tiny chamber. In it, he found nothing but a single human child. She yelped in fear as Lucius landed beside her.

“Hush, child,” he murmered. “It’s alright – I’m not one of them.”

Her knees up under her chin, arms wrapped tightly around them, the child – she couldn’t have been more than seven or eight years of age – slowly raised her head of messy auburn hair, her eyes meeting his. “What’s your name?” Lucius asked.

The girl raised her head further, and her mouth worked in vain for a moment before she managed to form coherent words. “Cassandra,” she said.

Lucius’ hand tightened around the case he still held under one arm, and he forced a smile, even as he heard the creatures approaching above. This time, he thought, there wouldn’t be a way out. But he could not let this child know that.

“Cassandra,” he said. “I have a friend named Cassandra. She’s very important to me. Would you like to meet her?” The girl nodded, uncertain, and Lucius placed the case on the ground between them, deftly opening the latches.

“This is a violin,” Lucius explained as he pulled the sleek, curved instrument from its case. The soft wood stain gleamed soothingly in the dim light. “You might not know it. Very few people remember such instruments these days. She has a name, though, same as you – Cassandra. Come here and I’ll play you a song.”

Cautiously, Cassandra unfolded herself from the dark corner of her foxhole. She glanced up in fear as the stomping sounds grew closer, but Lucius gestured for her to come, and she clambered over to him, sitting in his lap even as Lucius turned his back to the open hole above and behind them.

Taking up the violin, he fingered the strings without looking, and picked up the bow. “You probably won’t know this song either. It’s called Ave Maria, and it’s very old.”

Cassandra looked up over her shoulder at him as he began picking out long, soft notes. “I know. My mummy used to sing it to me when I had a nightmare.”

Lucius looked down at her, still playing, a sad smile on his face. “That’s good, then. Would you like to sing it with me?” Cassandra nodded, and began singing in a soft, shaking voice. He wrought the notes louder and stronger, and added his voice to hers, so the young girl didn’t hear the sinister whine of the energy bolt as it struck them from behind.

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