Rhen, the guy with round glasses, hurried towards Quinn. He coughed upon inhaling the ashy, bitter smoke. Nonetheless, he continued until he was close enough to check Quinn's condition.
He was definitely unconscious.
"Let's get outta here!" Rhen grunted, lifting Quinn off the ground little by little.
He quickly glanced backwards. That was when Ivy - the slender girl tying her hair in a ponytail, but her blood-smeared face doing her dirty - limped closer.
They both got Quinn's arm around their necks immediately. And headed towards the exit door a great distance away.
The air was filled with smoke. The ceiling gave way under the blaze. And walls shredded apart.
Rhen and Ivy could be moving slowly, especially with an added weight. But they won't stop.
'We aren't gonna die here!' Ivy affirmed to herself. She gritted her teeth.
Within seconds, they were mere metres from the door.
Rhen's eyes lit up with hope.
"Almost there, Ivy! Just a little bit more!"
Ivy looked at the door, then back at him. She nodded.
"O-okay! Almost…"
They grunted. The pain and the struggle on one hand felt unbearable. Particularly the sharp heat coursing through every bone in their body.
However, nothing would be as agonising as losing to the fire. Either themselves or their friend, Quinn.
Rhen shouted.
"R-right there! We're there!"
They were now barely two steps out of the hall.
Two more steps.
Ivy smiled, sniffed and wiped her tears. Rhen swallowed. And gave her a reassuring nod.
They finally would be safe.
Without hesitation, they took a step forward. Both gasped. Because Quinn's weight suddenly seemed to have doubled. The fire burned with greater fury. And the heat fried their skin more and more.
Ivy cried. Rhen almost fell to his knees, but he resisted the pull. He held his breath and gave Ivy a final look.
"Move on, Ivy. Just one more."
Ivy cried as a sharp pain surged into the back of her neck.
"One more… and we're out of here! Snap out of it, Ivy!"
Ivy looked at Quinn. And smiled as tears streamed down her face.
"Damn it, Quinn," she whispered, "you owe us big time."
Oh right, she should snap out of it real quick.
With their remaining strengths, they both dragged Quinn's body out of the door. Half a step out. Just another…
… But, right then, an invisible force pulled Quinn off their shoulders. They had already stepped outside before realising what was missing.
It was Quinn.
They saw his body drift back into the fire. But they could only scream. And in a matter of seconds, debris rushed down and blocked the entrance.
Quinn was gone.
The only one left in the flame.
Inside, Quinn couldn't cry.
He couldn't scream.
Just lying on the heated ground while the fire crawled over his skin. A streak of tears ran down his face.
… 'Why me?'
***
The news soon aired. Videos of firefighters working consistently to put out the fire in a hall near the Kingslanding school. No survivors. Just one single piece to prove who suffered the tragedy.
Even the heart of the man who found it seemed to know of the sorrow this created. It ached.
The school had no other choice but to call Mrs Vales. The news was terrifying, but it had to be said.
"We also started looking for Quinn after we received your complaint. Yes, the search was a success. But, unfortunately, it appears he might have been caught in the fire incident. The one in the hall next to the school. The firefighters found only his student tag there," a female teacher had reported to Mrs Vales.
The old woman didn't cry right away. She clearly held back her tears at first. Then, rubbing her thumb over the picture of Quinn on the tag, she lost it.
Seeing an old person weep that much made the teacher do the same. And offered her a warm hug.
***
Echoes.
There were a series of footsteps in the walkway. And… they echoed.
Not only that, but something unexplainable happened. The air stilled in place, like someone had placed a hold on time.
And the ashes, tiny insects, and embers in the air froze.
Then, three shadows leaned in from the hall's entrance.
The fire had been set off by the firefighters about a day ago. But the destruction was still there. Nothing like a roof anymore, nor a door. Not even a full-standing wall.
Suddenly, the firm voice of a man spread through the ruins,
"It's another poor soul reborn by the fire. How long will this one last?"
A gentle sigh of contemplation followed.
"Alright, let's wrap things up. And leave."
Nylon rustled. Two of the shadows paced forward, one holding the nylon bag.
"Understood, team leader."