The Queen of Golden Flame

26. Oliver

The world refocused like the after effects of a swirling carnival ride, spinning and spinning until the hazy images became refined and he had stilled once more.

Oliver squinted into the harsh light emanating from the lantern hung too close to his face, placed haphazardly on a bent nail shoved into a wooden post. With blood rushing in his ears and his heart tapping like an uneven metronome, Oliver moved to tuck his legs to his chest, but only found a sharp pain shooting through his shin. He yelped as if he'd been burned.

"Shhh," a voice whispered somewhere nearby, but his ears were ringing too much to identify the source, "Keep it down, Oli."

With his head still feeling like it was filled with cotton, Oliver found himself falling forward without any control of his body. His limbs stiff and heavy, he braced himself for the impact but there was none. Instead, something tugged at his wrist. He managed to lift his head for a brief moment, only to find that his hands were tied to the wooden post behind him.

"Soldiers found us," the voice explained. He'd almost forgotten they were there. "Tied us up."

"Some kinda canvas tent," another voice said, much deeper than the others, "Effects'll wear off soon Oli, don't worry."

He attempted to move his legs, but he was tied up at the ankles.

"No use, Oli. Tried it earlier," the voice from before said, suddenly clear.

Oliver raised his head, searching for the source, but the light obscured his view. Instead, he called blindly, "Rey?"

"Yes. I'm here," she replied, "Atlas is here, too."

His heart seemed to ease a bit and he leaned back against the post. He closed his eyes, remembering to take deep, steady breaths, like when his lungs would expand but not catch enough air and he'd have to sit with his head in between his legs until he felt like he could breathe fully again.

His tongue was thick when he talked. "What is this place?"

"Army base, I think," Atlas chimed in on the opposite side of the light, "Don't know which side, though."

Oliver peeled his eyes open, thankful that the fuzziness had receded and the light did not seem so bright, revealing a long, plain room with only a couple crates and five familiar faces.

Aurelia and Atlas sat beside each other, tied to their own posts. Atlas's face was dirty and his curls were thick with grease, and yet he still flashed Oliver a toothy grin when he realized he'd come to. Aurelia offered a weak smile, sitting calmly against her post, while Ilya was against the back wall, struggling against his restraints.

Christian groaned as he began to come to, his head bobbing as he attempted to lift it. His blonde hair had lost its sheen, and he had a clump of dirt smudged on one of his cheeks. Amelia sat beside him, chin dropped to her chest. She was so still that Oliver had to watch her closely before he realized that she was still breathing. They were quick and shallow, but still, he found himself releasing a contented sigh.

Ember was nowhere to be found.

"We have to get out of here," Oliver declared, and Ilya shot him a glare.

"Really," the elder mocked, teeth clenched. He pulled at his restraints still, and though he seemed to be making steady progress, he winced with every little move. He hissed sharply. "Ow!"

"Stop," Aurelia urged, hushed and yet still so mighty, "Don't use all your energy at once."

"I'm not just going to sit here and let them hold us captive while Ember's out there alone!"

"Ilya, you're going to rub your wrists raw if you don't stop!"

"Calm down," Atlas interrupted the quarrel, blowing a hair out of his face, "Fighting isn't gonna stop anythin', ya hear? Need to listen to each other if we wanna get outta here."