IRON GOD | 2: Empyrean

[17] Azvalath: Quietude of a Cage

 Azvalath escaped to his room the very first moment he could get away. He slammed his door shut and fantasized about never opening it again. Well, unless Jai-Lag wanted to come in. She wasn't negotiable.

He kicked his boots off and slumped onto his bed. His blanket was covered in sabretooth cat hair, and near instantly, so was every inch of his clothing. He let himself relax a moment, then threw his coat off in the direction of his wardrobe. He knew he should hang it neatly, but he didn't want to actually get up and do it.

He took his chest armor off next, treated it to the same fate, and envisioned Rizval lecturing him on how he ought to take better care of his gear. How he would then retort that Rizval's crystal was supposed to be nigh-indestructible, nothing a little laziness could ruin.

He kept his sword with him, though, and clutched its hilt like a loved one's hand. One of the masters would probably come take it soon enough. Unless he'd been restored in rank for his oh-so-spectacular performance in the field and got to keep it all the time now. He let out a dry laugh.

Eventually, he worked up just enough energy to get under his blanket. It wasn't heavy enough to make him sweat, but just heavy enough to calm his ever-spiking nerves. He remembered Master Qila laying it over him on one of his first nights home, telling him all was well now, that he could rest easy, the hardest part was all over.

Azvalath closed his eyes and tried to go back to that feeling. Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep – perhaps the easiest he had ever fallen asleep.

The Iron God's deep blue eye opened. An eye immense enough to dwarf any man, but it glistened with tears and terror.

Azvalath tried to push the image from his mind, but the dream merely warped. The eye became water and he fell straight into it. He reached up for a surface that probably didn't exist. And he sank, down, down...

...up...

And all was still.

Then he tried to run along a path that didn't exist. Each step launched him so far he flew. Something whistled. He thought it was the wind until it sharpened to a pitch he thought he'd escaped. No, no!

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeee

The teakettle boiled over and doused the fire beneath it. Everything went dark and Azvalath cried with the voice of a small child. His teeth clenched together and all shattered at once. He clawed at his face with more fingers than he knew he had, coughed, choked...

Azvalath woke up with a sharp gasp. He had no idea how long he'd been out, but it was pitch dark in his room. His eyes lit up and cast a red glow. He stared up at the red ceiling, reached up with a red hand, and cast a distorted shadow.

Someone knocked at his door.

Azvalath stayed as silent as possible. He hoped whoever had come to pry on him would think he was asleep and leave him alone.

"Hey Azvalath." Ami's voice was muffled through the door, but still distinct enough that he stiffened. "If you're awake, I just wanted to apologize for makin' a puppet out of you last time we met. And I hope your arm's all fixed up."

He stayed quiet even though he had so many questions.

A soft thud, perhaps her fist against the door. "I just hope you're able to sleep easy for once in your life, boy."

He heard her step back and spoke up in a weary tone. "Now tell me why you're really here."

Ami hummed. "My reasons aren't my own."