"Chrissa, hurry up on the weapons! I asked for them an hour ago!" Isabelle Benton stood by the door, tapping her foot on the dusty wooden floor. She glared at Chrissa as the girl fixed the settings of the bow.

"Why did I pick you, you slow snail," Isabelle whined as Chrissa sent the printing request of fifteen bows.

"There aren't that many people who can tolerate you," Chrissa muttered before moving towards the 3D printer. The first one came out beautifully, and Chrissa put it in the machine that would tie the bowstring on. She patiently waited for the second bow to come out.

"Come on!" Isabelle complained, who looked bored out of her mind watching Chrissa move around the room.

The machine holding the first bow beeped, alerting Chrissa that the bowstring was in place. She retrieved it from the machine and handed it to Isabelle, who snatched it out of her hands and tugged at the bow string with force. It was well made; it was excellent. Chrissa was great at her job, but Isabelle had too much pride to admit it. So she gave Chrissa an approving nod, and the girl removed the second bow from the printing tray before putting it in the bowstring machine.

A gunshot sounded from the battle area, and then came a cry after it. Chrissa winced at the loud bang. Almost every gunshot meant one more life had been lost, as people rarely survived the shot.

"I'm going over to the health department. When I come back, there better be fifteen bows done and dusted, waiting for me." Isabelle ordered. Chrissa nodded timidly and removed the second bow from the machine upon hearing the beep.

Chrissa sighed as she repeated the process until all the bows were done and dusted, just as Isabelle had asked. She proceeded to sink down in her chair and her worries about her family had now floated to the surface of her brain, yearning to be let out. They had once been the perfect family, but King Tommy had torn them apart in the worst way possible. Her father was out there, fighting for Pink. Her mother took her role seriously as a healer, healing the most gruesome injuries. As for her sister and grandparents, they had moved into Royal Purple because it was a lot safer there as Tommy favored the citizens of Purple. Isabelle stormed into the room, interrupting Chrissa's thoughts.

"Another one dead," Isabelle said. There was a tone to her voice that Chrissa couldn't quite make out. Was it grief, anger or something entirely different?

"May they rest in peace," Chrissa said sincerely, and that sincerity morphed into hatred for King Tommy. She hated him. Did he have no heart? She heard the story that he didn't cry at his young wife's funeral, Angela, but then again, he wasn't married to her for love. If that was the case, he didn't love his citizens either. Did he know he had broken apart almost everyone in Belden? How could he turn a country once so full of joy into something so melancholy?

The sound of Isabelle grabbed the fifteen bows of the table tore Chrissa away from her negative thoughts about King Tommy and she snapped back into her job. Isabelle left without giving Chrissa further instructions, so she decided to view the battle and see which weapons needed making.

The vibration of a string being pulled back told Chrissa someone was shooting with the bow she made. A cry from the opposite side told her that the person shooting hadn't missed. She traveled to higher ground to see the full battle, she needed to know what weapons she needed to make. Another gunshot sounded.

A cry escaped her lips as she saw Charity. A bloody wound was visible near her abdomen as Cole hurried towards her, dropping his weapons on the way. A few of the battling soldiers glared at him but said nothing. They understood the feeling.

Charity's hands were over the wound, trying to stop the flowing blood. Cole reached his hands to the wound, hands grasping for the bullet that lodged inside. Charity panted.

"No," she whimpered. It hurt too much when Cole dug his hands in, and she was certain she wasn't going to survive it.

"Charity, stop moving," Cole said frantically. His bloodied hands continued digging, hoping to find the bullet. 

"Cole," she panted firmly, "I'm not going to live." Pain flooded her mouth as she spoke. From above, all Chrissa could do was gape.

"No, Charity, no!" Cole shouted. He lifted her up and prepared to move her to the healer's hut. She whimpered as her limp body was hauled off the ground and into Cole's arms.

"Cole, I love you. Stay strong for me. Stay strong for papa and mama." Charity whispered. With that being said, she closed her eyes and didn't move.

"No!" Cole yelled. He let her body fall to the ground as he punched the ground. Blood seeped from his right fist as he repeatedly smashed his fist into the hard ground. Chrissa hurried to the staircase, she had to help Cole before he seriously hurt himself, and she owed it to him. He had been the only one who had acknowledged her presence at the last Pink meeting.

"Cole," Chrissa said. She hurried to his side and proceeded to grab his right arm, but he shoved her away.

"Not now, 'Rissa," Cole yelled angrily. Chrissa exhaled as she proceeded to try again. Cole could be so stubborn sometimes, especially when it concerned his loved ones.

"Cole!" She said firmly. She grabbed his left arm and didn't let go until he stood up and let her lead him to the healer's hut. She looked at Charity's body, her shirt so bloody that Chrissa felt sick. Her once hazel eyes were sealed shut, and Chrissa had to blink a few times to get the image out of her head.

"Mum?" Chrissa called out, entering the healer's hut. 

"As darling as your mom is, I'm Jenna." A flash of pink highlights was visible to Chrissa as Jenna poked her head out from the room next door.

"Jenna!" Chrissa exclaimed. Jenna took Cole's hand and led him to a chair, speaking to him in a soft voice.

If she ever met King Tommy, she'd kill him if someone didn't do it first.

Chrissa left the room, trying to avoid looking at Charity on her way back up the stairs. She shuddered as she ascended the wooden stairs. Pink's side was undeniably getting weaker and weaker and Chrissa let the tear in her eye fall. As much as she wished it was just a nightmare, it seemed like Pink was going to lose. She swallowed the lump in her throat and thought about how she could help make the situation better.

Chrissa knew what to make after that.

A bomb that could wipe them all out.

And maybe a miracle.