Miguel woke up with a pounding headache. He blinked a few times, hoping this was all a terrible dream, but the familiar hum of neon told him otherwise. He groaned, pushing himself to sit up before looking around his small living quarters. The room was small and dimly lit, with cold, metallic walls and narrow windows. The bed rested in one corner, with only a thin blanket for comfort. The furniture was minimal, consisting of a single chair and a plain desk cluttered with old papers and maps.
He got off the bed, and he walked over to the window, grabbing onto the bars and staring out at the distant silhouette of the Walstara Mountains. He should be grateful they hadn't killed him, or fed him to Trash the dragon.
"You are Loki's host, correct?" A soft feminine voice came from behind him. It was her.
Ylva.
Her presence was overwhelming—towering, with a skeletal deer-like skull for a head, the hollow eye sockets staring into him with ancient knowing. Black, fur-covered limbs moved fluidly, and her agile body seemed ready to disappear into the night at a moment's notice. Yet, what caught his attention the most was her stance. It wasn't one of aggression, but of wary protection.
Miguel held his breath as Ylva straightened, her ragged fur bristling ever so slightly. He'd heard tales of her. Now, here she was, standing before him, not as an enemy, but as a guardian. "I am," he dipped his head to her.
"You're the one who escaped," Ylva's voice echoed, low and gravelly, as if it came from the depths of the earth. Her gaze fixed on him, piercing through him as if she could see every secret he tried to bury. "The one my son speaks of. What do you seek in the heart of this city, boy?"
Miguel hesitated, unsure of her intentions. His instinct was to retreat, but something held him in place—perhaps the knowledge that she, too, had suffered under DEMA's weight.
"I'm... looking for my family," Miguel finally managed to say, his voice steady despite the tightness in his chest.
Ylva tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable beneath the deer skull mask. "They are long gone from here. The Bantü helped them escape."
Miguel let out a sigh of relief, closing his eyes. "They're safe." He whispered. "It'll be my turn to escape too."
Ylva's deep, rumbling growl filled the air—a sound that could've been a laugh, though it carried a bitterness that spoke of years spent in the shadows of DEMA. "Freedom. It's not as easy as you think."
There was a moment of silence between them, a weight shared in their gaze. They were both fighting for their families in their own way, both trapped in DEMA's endless nightmare.
"If you stand in my way, I'll—" Miguel began, but Ylva cut him off with a slow step forward.
"I won't stop you," she said quietly, her voice softening in a way Miguel hadn't expected. "But if you fail... DEMA will consume you, just like it consumed me."
With that, Ylva turned, her massive form moving with an eerie grace as she began to walk away from his living quarters. Miguel turned around to look at the files on his desk.
"Oh, and Miguel?" Ylva's voice broke his attention.
Miguel looked up at her, silently staring at her.
"Be wary of my husband. He's killed a few hosts before." Ylva said before she finally slipped away down the halls.
Miguel's eyes widened, and as if on cue, Loki's voice echoed in his head.
YOU ARE READING
Only Skeletons Remain
Fanfiction"There will be Three, kin of your kin, who hold the power to reshape the world and defy the shadows." Only Skeletons Remain follows the intertwined stories of three generations bound by the oppressive grip of DEMA, a city of neon lights and despair...
