The Seven Guardians

Chapter 21

- Hey! So sorry for the wait. Why is life so...so...
Just...why is life?

Enjoy!

Warning: Blood, swearing

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Welcome to the Jungle
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Whirling, twisting, crunching, constricting-

Shrinking, squeezing, strangling-

The world was a dripping mess of rotating colors, flashing and blinking and spinning far too fast to make out their vivid and significant shades. In one second, there was light, bright and blinding in fluorescent sparks, and then in the next there was darkness, inky and thick, swirling and gushing like steaming molten rock dumping within churning oil. There was no up or down, there was no right or left or weight or gravity. Then suddenly, there was nothing. There wasn't anything.

Weightless. Floating. Drifting.

No. He was sinking. Descending. Drowning...?

There...there wasn't anything.

There isn't anything...?

A harsh, brutal, resonating ringing in his ears that stabbed agonizingly through the sides of his skull, brain pulsing and swelling, Seto slowly let his eyes flutter open. His eyelids were heavy, eyelashes coated with something dry and thick and burning it took him a good moment to try and clear his cloudy vision. Everything was blurry, tilting, a shifting mesh of dark and light colors he couldn't even begin to discern. His body felt oddly warm and cold at the same time, a strange tingle and prickle to his skin. Sweating and freezing. Feverish.
He felt feverish.

But, he wasn't sick...? He hadn't felt sick before.

Deep in his throat, a bellowing groan of pain rumbled, vibrating in his tightening chest and scraping against the rawness within his esophagus. Something sour and acidic lined thickly across his tongue and his face scrunched up, running it over his teeth and spitting. His saliva was viscid and hot, the bitter tang of metal coating the roof of his mouth, dotting the corner of his dry lips.

Something prickled at his arm, poking at the exposed skin of his elbow. His muscles felt tight and coiled, cramped and sore. Chest heaving. Bones whining. Why...was he so sore? Why did he hurt?

Why do I hurt so badly...?

Something pressed up against his face, rubbing along his temple, and it took him a moment to realize that it was his own hand. Pale, slim fingers ran across his brow, feeling the open cut splitting past his eyebrow, leaking a watery warmth that trailed down his cheek and dripped from his chin. His hair was matted to his face, reeking of sweat, sticking uncomfortably to his forehead. Using a shaking hand and raking the thick auburn strands back from his face, Seto grit his teeth as he set his arms down beneath himself, pushing his upper body off the ground.

Grass. There was grass below him. Thin and prickly, tickling his bare arms. Green blades splashed with splatters of deep carmine. Stained with smoldering black and grayed into brittleness.

There was smoke. Smoke...

Something was on fire. Burning. He could hear it. He could hear it past the stabbing ring in his throbbing ears that continued to pound at his shattering skull. His head hurt. His head hurt. His head hurt so badly.

Seto felt lightheaded. The ground beneath him continued to rock and tilt, lurching like a boat upon harsh, churning waves. The smoke was thick, clouding his lungs, stinging his chest.

What...what happened...?

A sound. A sound, distant. Echoing.
A voice.

Someone was yelling. It vibrated through the ground, through his body. Churning his blood.