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I could feel the light-not-fire eat away at me, raging through my veins.
With all the strength I could muster I held onto the one thought I hoped would save my people.
As my consciousness faded, I could hear the sound I had heard years before. The metallic grinding had never sounded more beautiful than in those last moments of clarity. I could vaguely see a blue shape solidify some feet away from me. It was the same astonishing shade of blue it had been, a stark contrast to the ochre-red-yellow sand and stone all around.
He had come like he had promised. Even after all these years, as memory had faded and been replaced by stories and myths. Now those stories where emerging from within the blue, giving me hope that my people might have a chance to survive. My last thought was relief.
“Who was she?” “Someone I must have met before. See this here?” he showed her the psychic paper. The words “Please help them” were written on it in fading black lines, some weird symbols underneath them – coordinates for a place and a time. “She must've send the message. It's starting to fade now that she's gone.” He crouched besides the lifeless form, gently wiping errand strands of copper hair out of her face before closing her eyes. “I'm sorry I am too late to safe you. But I'll do what I can for your people.” A brief flash of sorrow and grief washed over his face as he stood back up and straightened his bow-tie. “Right then, there are people to safe. Shall we?”