The Icon Unbound

Chapter One, Part B - Mirrah

Whew! So, even with the split these chapters were...huge. Does this read better? Please let me know in the comments section, and don't forget to leave your vote! 

--Elizabeth. UPDATED 4/15/2017

The Icon lay on the floor, in a pool of blood, feeling serene. Winter cold gripped every inch of flesh and every sinew she possessed. She wanted a blanket. She wanted a dozen blankets, and a fire, and someone to hold her hand.

Somehow she had found the strength to do what needed to be done, and even though she had been prepared for years, she could not quite grasp the consequences of that. The most tangible of those lay in her open palm, and in the emptiness of her chest. Her heart, such a tiny thing, felt warm and still. The knife still lay where it had fallen just beyond her. She slid her heart into the old wooden box and closed the lid. The one action cost her so much energy, and she let her head thump back onto the floor.

After a moment of gathering her strength, she pushed the box into the sunlight that spilled onto the floor. She understood now. Her heart still affected her, even if it was separate from her body forever. When it felt warm, she felt warm.

Until her heart was completely used up, she would be the Icon of Waterwall. The very thought made her eyes heavy. Soon she would have to get up, go out and assure everyone she was all right, or at least alive. Just thinking about it made her tired.

Above her, on the stairs, she heard the sounds of irregular footsteps.

Click, click...thump....click, click...thump.

Oh.

Only one creature resided in the Tower besides the Icon.

Drakys were creatures out of time. The Icon...Sarah...said that they were all gone from the world now. Only this one was left. In return for the shelter Icons provided, it served the office. Her. When she had been an Apprentice, the drakys had frightened her with its knowing silver eyes. So as it nosed through the door she flinched away from it automatically.

It looked like a delicate direlizard. It had a wedge-shaped face and a narrow snout with nostrils that scented her even now. Its eyes were big, even concealed under the bony pate that supported the two sweeping horns that brushed the top of the door. Its sinuous neck curved, bringing its head down close to the floor to regard her as it moved forward. It walked on four dexterous claws, though she had seen it rear back on his hind legs once or twice. Its long, thin tail swished behind it in a contemplative way.

If it hadn't been for its coloring, it would have been an ugly creature. The drakys was a living bar of silver, ranging from the darkest storm clouds, to the lightest morning sky. Each tiny scale on its leathery hide was a jewel.

It cocked its head at the sight of her on the floor, and then looked at the box. Then it moved into the room, walked right past her to the window. The Icon craned her neck to watch as the drakys took the delicate curtain in its mouth, pulling it aside to let in even more light. Once the curtains stood open as far as they would go, the drakys came back to her and carefully folded its long body next to hers.

She wanted to scoot away, but his scales were soft and warm like leather, not hard as she had imagined. She found herself putting her head down on his belly and sighing. When she was settled it stretched its nose to the blood on the floor and carefully lapped it up with a long black tongue.

"What? No! Stop that!"

It turned and regarded her. "Don't be frightened. We can speak only when I taste your blood. The effect lasts only as long as the blood holds out, and I have much to say."