Direct Descendant

Ophelia woke up in the arms of too hard for comfort. She groaned, feeling as if she was run over by a carriage. Her head was pounding, eager to break out of her skull. She heard frantic shouting in the background, a panicked roar, and the never-ending catastrophe. It took a few seconds of her blinking to realize she was being carried by Killorn, who was rapidly running up the stairs.

"Killorn?" Ophelia choked out, confused by how he got there.

There was too much screaming for him to hear her. She turned her head and saw people leaving the shelter. Everyone was busy doing something, whether it was carrying supplies, or fulfilling the rapid orders coming from Gerald. He pointed left and right, accompanied by Mirabelle who was instructing a group of people.

"Layla, another group for you!" Beetle hollered in the distance, followed by frantic footsteps. "And Reagan, that party right there needs your aid!"