Vulpecula et Anser

Chapter 2: Drown

Trigger Warning: Drowning 
If you wish to skip it, stop reading at the paragraph that begins with "He watched in horror". Continue after the chapter break (Kit!).

Kit found himself in an unfamiliar place. Unrelenting darkness brightened the nothingness surrounding him. He tried to get his bearings, to feel for something, anything around him, but to no avail.

There was a flash of blue light, and he instinctively closed his eyes and brought his arms up to block it. As soon as he felt the light growing dimmer, he opened his eyes once more. He was on top of a building; it appeared to be some sort of tower. There were cables leading to the centre of the room, where an ominous red spire that dwarfed Kit towered over him threateningly. Kit's eyes widened as he realised where he was. Oh no. No-no-no-no. He needed to get out of here, fast.

The blue skies started to darken unnaturally fast. The fluffy clouds wailed as their pure white colour drained, turning them into dull grey clouds. A sudden rush of gale made Kit lose his balance, and as Kit recovered, there was a recognisable shape standing in front of him.

Surge.

"You were supposed to be my support." Her voice overlapped with the ear-splitting thunders and the screaming wind to form a dissonant sound akin to a disharmonious orchestra.

He wanted to apologise, but his mouth wouldn't open. I tried, I really did—

"But in the end, you couldn't even protect me!" her voice boomed, lightning crackling as she spoke.

I'm sorry, Kit wanted to plead. Please forgive me.

He watched in horror as Surge morphed into a stream of viscous black liquid that rushed into his mouth. A disjointed cry escaped his mouth as he clawed desperately at his throat to get whatever it was out. He could feel it fill his lungs, his body coughing as it desperately tried to fight for air as the world around him started to turn into flecks of black. He was sure his lungs burst into flames—they felt like they were on fire with how hot they felt.

Please.

A flash of light caught his eye. Sapphire, golden and crimson flames danced around in dazzling iridescence, a wild dance in a spiral motion just over the edge of the building. It was mesmerising, a prairie fire started by the sparks of a line of stars. It was a haven, a place to take shelter against this unrelenting nightmare.

Fire. That was what he needed. Fire is the opposite of water. Then surely, the fire could help evaporate this viscous liquid that was drowning him. Yes, he was right. A sterling deduction, one his two-tailed doppelganger could never hope to achieve. His line of logic was perfect—perfectly incapable of doing anything as he struggled to walk towards the flame.

He just needed to get closer to it. He felt disorientated; he couldn't determine the lights' exact location. It felt like they went through a series of refractions after passing through murky water.

I'm sorry...!

The pain in his chest was overwhelming. It felt like a rip current of strength pounded against it. He struggled against the pain, desperately lunging his way towards the tricoloured light. Whatever it was, it was his way out of this place, his saviour, his haven. He took one final dive and reached his hand downwards as he fell—

—into Starline.

The fire from before sat in a pool on his glove, illuminating his sneering face.

He wanted to rush up to him and strangle him, but his body felt like it was being restrained by heavy metal fetters—the fetters of fear.

"You know, Kit, I made you who you are today. Made you better." His voice boomed, seemingly projecting from everywhere at the same time.

He wanted to scream at Starline, thrash at him for all that he had brought onto Surge and him, but he was a puppet with its strings cut. Motionless. Lifeless. He could feel something—Surge—pushing against his oesophagus, throttling him as his vision gradually dimmed.