#just wondering how much of the massacre the Nevermoorians saw

[yoursassybookwormfriend]

Short Courage Square fic??? day 7. Just wondering what the Nevermoorians saw of Courage Square.

        “Rastaban!” shouted Jeremy, running to the unnamed square that the fight was taking place in. “I know I’m not a smith but I can help you! We all can! Don’t fight on your own!” 

        “Hear hear!” shouted someone else, and all of the Wundersmiths’ closest friends gathered to march into the square. Some were powerless, others Mundane or Arcane, but none as powerful as the Wundersmiths they wished to help. With a hearty battle cry, they charged into the square, wielding what little weapons they could find. 

        All they saw was devestation. The square had been ruined, burned in some places, frozen in others, the buildings surrounding it falling even as the reinforcements arrived. Some parts of the square were masked in stange, unnatural shadow. From the ground grew knotted, thorny vines and shards of rock so sharp they could slit your skin with just a touch. There were corpses all around, those of monsters and smiths. The sun was setting on a battle that was already finished. 

        “Over here!” shouted Arabelle, Owain’s younger sister. At her feet lay Owain Binks. His arms and legs were wrapped in the thorny vines, so he couldn’t escape. His chest had been impaled, likely by the dead monster beside him, a fearsome vulture-like creature with a long sharp beak. It had clearly been burned to death. Others had found a few the remaining smiths, each who had died their own gory deaths. Rastaban himself was frozen in a large block of ice. 

        It took the group a while to find Ezra, as his monstrous features made his body look quite like his dead creatures, and he had lain on the ground as if dead. Sam, an armadillowun, shook him awake. When Squall opened his eyes, he saw a strange group of people, all in a circle around him, wielding everything from balls of fire to swords to kitchen knives. 

        “Like what I’ve done?” snarled Ezra. He stumbled to his feet. “Using this much Wunder takes a lot out of someone, but I reckon I can kill you all quite quickly,” He raised his arms and shadows appeared, morphing into terrible creatures. "Attack!” shouted Squall, but his creatures didn’t move. “I said attack!” Squall said again, waving his arms to give the command. 

        The ground rippled under the Nevermoorians’ feet, as if it was the heartbeat of the very city itself. The cobblestones under the mosters shifted, and started to engulf them as if it was quicksand. 

        “What’s going on?” asked Ezra. “Who’s doing this?” The Nevermoorians looked at each other, but nobody spoke up. “I’ll kill you all for this!” Ezra waved his arms and spikes of black metal shot from the ground, stopping mere inches before they could have impaled anyone. The spikes slowly started to be pulled underground. “WHAT?” shouted Ezra. “Why isn’t this working?” but he cut off as he saw fog start to surround him. “No no no no!” he shouted, but soon his cried were muffled with a thick white cloud. When the cloud dispersed, he was gone, the only evidence he had ever been there was the destruction around him. 

        Years later, the Nevermoorians named the square Courage Square, for the people killed by Squall. Squall’s monsters had killed the smiths, but they had also remained after he left, continuing to kill anybody in their way. There were very few left. Over time, people forgot that the Wundersmiths fought against Squall, only remembering the tale of how one Wundersmith killed the brave men and women that had fought for Nevermoor’s freedom. The Wundrous Arts became the Wretched Arts, and the Wundrous Society became the only ones to stand against the creatures that lurked in the dark corners of the Free State.