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A bellowing scream ignites from the depths of Eden's mind.
Tendrils of unconsciousness drag her down, deeper, deeper, until darkness encompasses her every last spark of light. An iciness strikes her thrashing body, her warmth fleeing into the merciless night. Her bones ache, rattled and worn-down by her desperate, yet futile, dashes for escape. Above her, a dull illuminance reflects from the armour adorned by her enemy. The darkness veils their intricacies, but she is cursed with the knowledge of who they are; their name forever plaguing her mind. Their excruciating gaze sears into her skin, and, in its wake, a permanent scar is left.
Their pace slowed into a harrowing crawl, their vambrace arises, stilling once it's level with her head. In that moment, Eden's darkening eyes intertwine with those of Death himself. Her last slither of resistance spilled alongside her blood, she pathetically watches as they prepare their fatal attack; unmoving. A stunningly vibrant flame hurtles from their vambrace, the deceptively magnificent inferno colliding with Eden's chest. The array of agonising colours spread across the worn-down shirt covering her torso, setting the skin beneath it ablaze with unbearable pain. A breathless scream catches within her throat; her lungs without the air to make the slightest of noise.
It is then, her eyelids burst open. But the relief of daylight never comes; pitch-black plaguing her hazy vision.
The abrupt sensation of rough hands upon her shoulders strikes her with the force of an explosion; the unseen person shaking her awake. A violent daze barricades reality returning to her in its entirety, obscuring the realisation of the person's identity from her mind. The thunderous pounding of her heartbeat deafening her ears, she attempts to scramble away. Her back collides viscously with a wall, barely allowing her to move but an inch away from the person. A bitter fear crawls through her veins, and, like an animal trapped in a corner, she resorts to what she knows best.
A sickening crack erupts through the heavy air as her fist collides with flesh, the crunching of cartilage reverberating against her knuckles. The groan echoing in the wake of her attack is but white noise within Eden's ears, fear tainting her better judgement. She draws her fist back, readying herself to strike against the assumed enemy once more. But, when an achingly familiar voice shatters her stupor, her actions cease instantly.
"Hey. Hey. It's me, It's me!"
As reality seeps back into her mind, a viscous pang of guilt assaults her heart.
