#4

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"On your knees!"

The young woman looked around. The world was shrouded in ash and dust. The sky blood-red. An endless desert of boulders and stones. The clouds lit by a fire that consumed the land. The wind ruffled her hair and covered her in a sooty layer that crept into her nose and mouth with every breath she took. Her eyes burned, and she looked down at her hands. Bloody and dirty, without any power. She swallowed hard. Everything in her screamed for forgiveness. For absolution. It was her fault. All of this. All the lives, all the pain, all the destruction: Your fault. She hadn't wanted that. She had lost control. Still - because she lived, others had to die. She had to repent. She had to be humble. She must lower her head.

"GET ON YOUR KNEES!"

She looked up, clenched her teeth and fists. Blood ran down her knuckles and dripped onto the parched ground.

Resistance arose. An old strength in her not to listen to anyone's orders - it was still there, this strength. A certainty in her: You let me do this. And there it was again: the intransigence - its curse and its blessing. She lifted her chin.

"No."

A sharp pain shot through her body and she staggered a step forward.

"YOU WILL OBEY US! KNEE DOWN AND GIVE US WHAT IS OURS!"

She recovered herself and put her hands on her knees. Tears of anger and despair burned her cheeks and left tracks on her dusty face.. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Her decision was made. Her forehead, just wrinkled, relaxed. She exhaled.

Her hands began to shimmer white. Lines spurted out like electricity. In a second she got up and jumped forward - and as if from one mouth she and her ancestors cried out:

"NO!

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