Agatha stood by the wide observation window of her white-walled chamber. Her eyes cast over the roiling chaos far below. Through the holigraphic screen the world beneath looked like a slow seething storm. She can see the broken cities, cracking skies, and fires that refused to die.
But her eyes weren't really on the destruction. They were tracing movements.
Her gloved fingers tapped thoughtfully against her tigh as she watched.
She saw a young woman dragging three survivors through a collapsing street. Her arm shattered but still swinging a sword. Then she saw a boy barely into his teens who screamed something defiant before sending a burst of silver light into the throat of a monster.
And in another places she saw anothera group of cloaked figures moving through the debris like they belonged there, like they had always known that this apocalype was coming so they were prepared.
