• This is the second book of The Collected series •
"Those who bring pain are here to save, and those who bring hope will bring death. A great evil rests on the horizon, eating away at each setting sun. Nothing is as it seems while you beg for salva...
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The dreams were relentless. Cursed and confusing images. Things I didn't remember. Things that seemed real but couldn't possibly be. Nightmares I would've called them, if not for their softness. Their strange sense of calm. It was unnerving.
Each morning began with my body lurching into consciousness, hair stuck to my forehead with sweat. My hands would fumble, search my surroundings, remembering me where I was. Who I was.
Number Four. Death. The guardian.
But in the dreams I was not that person. I was weak and confused. Searching the broken fractures of my mind to sift through what was real and what was not.
The dreams didn't stop during the waking hours. Without the ability to see, my mind conjured its own images. Flashes. Such confusing flashes.
It boiled my blood. Anger was a feeling that was all too familiar but this... this was new. I couldn't fight off my own insanity. The torment I had to endure was my own making.
The days crept by in slow agony. Sleeping. Training. Waiting. I was back where I started. A task before me that I was unable to complete.
Number Eight helped. She understood the way I felt more than Tusks or Tuskless ever could. We were one in the same, as much as neither of them would admit it. Competitors in a competition we needed each other to finish.
Eventually the day came to remove the bandages from my eyes and I found I could see again. It was harsh and uncomfortable at first. Even the dim lights were too bright for my fresh eyes.
They stung often, but soon, that too faded. I was whole again and prepared to do what I had to. There was a war to be fought and monsters to be slain. I was Death incarnate, and I was done waiting for permission.
I waited in the training room, sitting on one of the raised fighting platforms, legs dangling over the edge. Number Eight would be here eventually, it's where he always when if he wished to speak to her.
It was nice, having someone to properly train with. Tusks and Tuskless didn't come to supervise as often anymore. Content with letting our competitive spirits push themselves.
I let out a long sigh, I'd been waiting for what felt like forever. My eyes were starting to itch, and when my eyes itched I remembered why they itched.
Those disgusting monsters had stabbed them out. It was horrid, to think about the viciousness of them. I was almost glad I didn't remember, the pain would no doubt be unimaginable. But maybe that would've been nice. Would've let me settle into a wonderful mind numbing state. The hairs on the back of my neck rose just at the thought of it.
"Klaus." Number Eight sauntered into the room, her face was covered as always, but I could tell she was angry. On edge. "I've been looking for you."
