Volume I: Forged

Chapter 5: Through the Portal

Phil couldn't understand what had gone wrong.

He had done his part of the job, set up a safe place in the Nether for the drop-off (by no means an easy feat), and now the other party involved in this little plan was late.

It was making him nervous.

Especially with what the other party was supposed to pass off to him for him to take to safety.

Grumbling under his breath, Phil grabbed his weapons and put his cloak in his satchel. His great wings stretched out, easing the stiff muscles. He could feel the Nether heat trying to combust his feathers, but they had long since been fireproofed by magic that no longer had a name.

He carefully disbanded his camp, made sure there was no trace of him ever being here, and set off into the Nether.

You wanted something done right, you did it yourself.

...

George couldn't see.

Something tight was tied around his eyes, digging into his head. Blistering hot metal bars were digging into his skin, but there was nowhere he could go to get away from them—the cage was too small.

George couldn't see.

He whimpered, twisting his wrists in the rope that made sure he behaved. The cart holding his cage rattled and rumbled over the rough ground, knocking his head painfully if he didn't pay attention.

He didn't know what had happened.

He had been asleep in his bed—then he had been cold. Very, very cold. As if someone had dipped his heart into an ice bucket. There had been tinkling laughter—then his very soul had felt as though it had frozen from the inside out. It had hurt to breathe—

Sapnap, his best, best friend, had come found him—probably heard him crying—and had crawled into the bed to try and keep him warm.

Then the explosion—and then—

And then—

George couldn't remember.

He didn't want to.

It was loud and big and scary.

Already the explosion was fading from his mind, leaving him feeling empty and hollow, head thick and heavy.

Where was Sapnap?

Sapnap could keep him safe. Sapnap was his friend, his best friend, and he'd keep him safe. Sapnap was bigger and stronger and stubborn. Sapnap could fix this.

But even as George tried to summon the strength to call for his childhood playmate, he slumped back, unconscious as the heat from the Nether finally caved in on the last of his resolution to stay awake.

...

Sapnap was well and truly doing his absolute best not to cry.

But it was so hard.

The chains dug into his skinny wrists, the heat from the Nether making the metal almost unbearable to touch but he couldn't not touch it. The blindfold was disorienting and stifling, and the ground beneath his bare feet was swelting enough to cause blisters.

And he didn't know where George was.

Sapnap didn't even know if George had made it out—there had been screaming and blood and gunpowder. Decimated bodies and blood-slaked floors. Ash in the air and crumpled walls.

Sapnap shook his head.

He didn't want it.

He focused on the pain on his body, trying to dispel the horror from his mind.