Through Smoke and Ashes

Seven||Caught & Caged

At first, I thought I was dead.

It was the kind of emptiness that didn't feel like rest, but like being swallowed whole by something endless and cold. But then came the pain, sharp and cruel, flaring behind my eyes like a white-hot brand. A throbbing headache pulsed at my temples, growing worse with every second I dared to acknowledge it.

Then nausea struck. My stomach churned as I rocked against a rough, uneven surface. Warmth brushed my skin, but only briefly, followed by a sudden chill that wrapped around my limbs like ice. The ceaseless sway beneath me made it hard to tell up from down. The disorientation crawled through my bones until I wanted to crawl out of my own skin.

Maybe I had died, and this was the afterlife. Some cruel in-between of confusion and pain.

But then I heard it, the rhythmic lap of waves against sand.

And with that sound, everything came crashing back. Memories falling like broken stones down a cliffside, one after another, impossible to stop. Panic, fire, the cage, the dragon, the escape. It all struck me with the force of a landslide, and I groaned.

I coughed, mouth full of grit and saltwater, gagging on the thick mixture. I spat sand out, scraping my tongue against the roof of my mouth as I struggled to sit upright. My fingers dug into the earth, coarse and wet beneath me, and I sucked in a ragged breath.

Curiosity got the better of me. My eyes wandered to my hands, still clenched into tight fists. My heart pounded as I hesitated. What would I find there? Burn marks? Blistered skin? I half-expected to see them torn and ruined. Slowly, I peeled my fingers open.

Nothing.

My palms were clean. Unmarked. No cuts. No bruises. Not even a scar. Just my hands, dirty, sure, but whole.

Was it all a dream?

A nightmare conjured by fear and exhaustion?

I shook my head, disbelieving. No. It had been too real. The dragon's heat. The scent of smoke. The scream that wasn't mine. That wasn't a dream.

I forced myself to my feet, still unsteady. My limbs wobbled beneath me like they'd forgotten how to carry weight. My pack lay nearby, crusted in dried salt and sand. The straps bit into my shoulder as I slung it across my back, but the familiar weight grounded me. I turned from the sea, its endless, heaving motion making me nauseous, and trudged toward the shadowed tree line.

I needed answers.

The forest was dense, tangled with vines and mist. Every snapped twig underfoot sent my heart racing, and the deeper I ventured, the more memories flickered to life, uncertain flashes, haunting and half-formed. I whispered to myself, a mantra to keep my courage from slipping:

"No fear."

But fear still nipped at my heels.

Eventually, I broke through the cover of the forest and stumbled into the same open ground with the filled cages scattered about it. I drew a blank. Although this proved that I wasn't imagining things, it still didn't make me feel any better.

It was real.

A sharp clang ran through the air, shocking me from my concerns. My eyes critically scanned the area.

Having realized that it was still broad daylight and there was a possibility of being spotted by the hunters, I stumbled back against a pile of fallen crates, hiding myself the best that I could.

I scanned my surroundings, unintentionally formulating a plan. It seemed as though the clearing was scrambled around, nothing held much order.

I studied the clearing. No real pattern to the layout; cages, barrels, broken tools. My gaze caught on a particular cage, the one from last night. But the dragon inside was new.