We're Not Evil, Just Betrayed

Chapter Seventeen, Useless

Author's Note : Here's the first of the two promised chapters ! I managed to speed write everything out during the midnights in between drawing sessions. Hope you enjoy them !

                 The day was long, especially after what Sky had witnessed and heard. After that episode, he had tried, very much tried to know as much as he could. He forced himself to remember the entire layout of the prison with whatever means he could. He was stuck most with SetoSorcerer, speaking with him, getting information about the ones too hostile or unstable to actually provide something useful. Eventually, after trying to cram in information about forty different inmates, Seto had to force him to stop and recollect before he combusted with stress. Eitherway, Seto was right. He hadn't seen Enderlox throughout the entire day. Whether or not that was a relief, he didn't know.

The only thing Seto was wrong about was that Enderlox wasn't awake when he got back. And for a while, he was afraid that he never would. Enderlox was in a feeble position at the corner of the cell, his back facing Sky. More than two dozen scales had been ripped clean off his arms, legs and face. On his left hand, three of his claws had been pulled off, leaving stringy trails of skin to replace them. His wings were bent in awkward angles and when he turned Enderlox onto his back, a tight metal muzzle had been fixed over his mouth. Upon closer inspection, he turned even paler. The muzzle was made of metal and at the edges, burnt skin melted into the corners of the muzzle. They had practically fused it into his face ! Sky didn't know what to do. Should he remove it ? Would it kill him instantly if he did ? What if he was already dead ? Not knowing what to do, he decided to do something else. He fixed the bent wing into position, only healing enough so it would hurt but not break again. As he did, he noticed five of the spines on his back were missing.

He waited. It seemed like hours but he still didn't wake. Restless, he did the only thing he could do. Wasting away half of his energy, he forced himself out of the cell when the guards were changing shifts and not paying attention, he went to Bajans cell. Jerome was doing all he could to ease the still sizzling skin. Bajan, fortunately, had been tossed back into his cell after the fight and was roasting in his cell instead of being forced to work with the other inmates. Jerome paused from what he was doing. He had dragged Bajan to the only water source in the cell, the toilet, and had been clawing water out of the unsanitary bowl and onto his friends back. Seems like even with his inability to speak, he had real human knowledge too. Sky walked over, his hands outstretched and knelt down at the unconscious form.

Now that the days events had closed, he could see what his carelessness had caused his army. His friend. The only thing fine on his back was his wings. Everything from the neck down to his waist was terrible hell. The fact that his entire back wasn't a charred remain was a miracle in itself. The neck was almost brown, but the ends around the beginning of his back was a crisp black, matching the color of his wings. All the layers of skin on his entire section of his back was burnt off, whatever skin was left was leathery and dry. He could see Bajans flesh as clear as day, and it was the color of a medium well done. Bajans face had been momentarily been twisted into an unbearable pain earlier in the day, but now it looked like had gone through a painless end. By law, he shouldn't be alive. None of them should. But the slow and uneven breathing showed his life, the only sign that he was still holding on. He had to force himself to use his healing magic, only to kill the cooked flesh and replace it with new red one, watching it stitch over itself to form a small defensive layer to prevent any more undesired consequences. When he was done, he didn't have the energy to go back to his own cell. He just lay against the wall, his head in his knees, breathing hard, wishing he was dead.

'What have I done....' he thought, rubbing the sweat off his forehead. He hadn't tended to his own wounds at all, and they all stung from his sweat, but that didn't matter. He looked at Bajan, a frown filled with self hatred settling on his pale face. He had almost gotten his ally, his friend killed. He had just caused Enderlox a day full of hell. He hit himself in the head, his claws digging into his own skull. 'Why can't I do anything right ?!' he growled, his hair tickling the newly inflicted wounds, causing him to jerk away from the sudden pain. All these years, hating, glaring. And he broke the only oath he had ever made. He shook his head violently, trying to convince himself otherwise.

He had saved WitherMU.
He had turned Bajan into a human torch.

He had gained the respect of a dozen allies.
He had caused an afternoon of torment for their previous leader.

He....he had.....

He gritted his teeth, his claws digging into the base of his skull again as the past voices flushed through his mind, growing louder. He didn't notice the claws digging into his wrists, trying to pry his own from killing himself. He didn't notice a loud snarl, slowly turning into a low whine. He didn't notice himself blacking out until it was too dark for him to care.