A Touch Of Darkness

26 || Oscensi's Seventh Regiment

"Up," Jasper commands. His hands remain in place even as he paces to my back, the force with which he holds the spear the same, his grip shifting over my wrist in such a way that my vision dances in spots of blinding light.

The spear jerks up, knocking into my chin. "Up," he repeats, harsher.

Even if I had the willpower remaining to disobey, he wraps his hand around my arm and hauls it up, leaving me with no option other than to struggle to my feet. Without his support, I doubt I could remain standing. My legs tremble as if trapped in an earthquake. The street tips and spins, darkness nibbling at my vision's edges.

Jasper's fingers brush over my wound, extracting a fresh wave of screaming pain. My cry emerges only as a strangled whimper. The spear handle presses firmer into my neck, restricting what breath I can gasp in.

Move, you fool. Yet when I pull back, I find my head trapped against his chest, pinned in place by the spear. My left hand attempts to claw its way towards my other glove only to also be imprisoned, shoved behind my back as he twists my arm.

The next inhale requires effort to take in. Panic unfurls in my lungs.

"Look at you," Jasper croons. "Not so cocky now, eh?"

Both his hands now grip the spear. I watch the flash of the point through his tapping fingers.

"Let me go." Steeling my voice is tricky when the very air that forms it is strained. Desperation coursing through my veins, briefly quelling my dizziness, I squirm, kicking at his shins. He doesn't budge.

"I..." I battle for another breath. "I mean you no harm."

From somewhere above, he chuckles, and I feel his chest shake. All it does is press smooth wood further into my throat. "I thought you wanted to see us burn," he says, tone still laced with laughter. "Where did all that fire go?"

The spear sinks deeper. It's like the smoke again, clogging my senses, choking my breath. Except this time, when I reach for my flame, it isn't there.

I'm helpless. I can't breathe. This is it.

"Please," I manage, a feeble hiss of a word.

At Jasper's responding laugh, my hope shrivels, curling in on itself like a weed at my touch.

Shadows tear apart the world. My vision is nothing but blurred colour, grey and brown swathes like dyes drowned in muddied water. I snap at the air. It flees my grasp.

My eyes squeeze shut. If I'm going to die, I die in darkness.

"I suppose..." Jasper may as well speak from a dream, a world away from where I stand. His murmur echoes distantly.

Perhaps I've been swept up by a dream entirely, for the pressure on my neck suddenly vanishes, and I'm keeling forwards. Somehow, my hands find the energy to reach out. They meet damp stone. Pain jolts up my right arm, but I don't care, far too taken by the returning ability to suck in a breath.

My throat scrapes roughly, rasping with each savoured gasp. I'm not dead. My chest heaves, tight and painful but alive.

"I think I prefer it this way."

His voice cuts through my relief. Hesitantly, I open my eyes, taking a moment to adjust to the light illuminating the red rivulets between the cobbles before lifting my head.

Instantly, cold metal rests against my neck, and a cascade of freezing terror ripples through my heart.

"Yes," Jasper whispers, spinning the spearhead, the flat of its tip gliding over my skin. "Much better. I do enjoy turning the threats of an upstart like you around."