Not Fallen... Yet

Chapter 13 - What Ifs and Whys

The sound of his own ragged breath and the near deafening pounding of his heart were the only sounds that met Aryan's ears as he tore off down the tunnels, not pausing to think about any of the turns he was making for more than a millisecond. The complex path that Aryan had been certain was too elaborate for anyone else to simply stumble upon was almost familiar by now, allowing the demon to follow its winding course from instinct alone without having to stop and consider his own actions.

A right. A left. Duck down that side path. Turn here. Aryan moved without thought, letting his body do the work and turning his mind off as it failed to do anything helpful whatsoever and instead opted to simply fill his head with dismal scenarios that did no good for anyone involved. Aryan couldn't get to Kiran if he was too busy working himself up into a panic.

Admittedly, Aryan really ought to slow down, practice some nice pacing exercises like gym teachers always preached, or at least take a moment to let his lungs fill with air once more but he couldn't, for the life of him, convince himself to do so. The demon was too fearful of what might await at the end of his path, too uncertain that he wasn't already too late, and so he ran. The Guide pushed his body to its limits and then some, his muscles screaming and his lungs burning as if he'd inhaled gasoline before striking a match in his throat but he never slowed down. He couldn't slow down.

The technique of "forget your limits" must've been an effective one though, as painful and likely unhealthy as it was, for, at the relentless pace he was pushing himself, Aryan soon found himself at the end of the winding corridor that would lead to Kiran's cave and, if the demon was lucky, - Which he seldom was - Kiran himself.

The Guide moved forward a hesitant step before resolutely steeling himself and urging his overworked body into a jog to clear the remaining space between himself and his goal, but he came to a stumbling halt once more just outside of the cave. Pausing to rest for that brief moment, however, was apparently a huge fucking mistake because it gave Aryan's lungs the perfect opportunity to revolt against him in protest of the unexpected workout. The demon's breath came in huge, heaving gasps as the enraged organs attempted to recover from the torment they'd been forced into, leaving his throat dry and raw with the strain of it.

Aryan's legs shook with fatigue, forcing the demon to reach out a hand to grasp the cool stone wall beside him for support, the cold touch of the frigid rock against his overheated palm as stabilizing as it was soothing. With this stark sensation anchoring the Guide to some extent he allowed his head to dip under the exhaustion that slunk into his raped muscles and tugged them down with every, gasping inhale.

However, the Guide had no time to worry about the tormented state of his body or the fact that he never really understood just how many muscles existed in his torso until he could feel each and every single one of them screaming in vengeful agony for more than a brief moment. There was a reason he'd been in such a rush, after all, and standing here like a dumbass wasn't going to help anybody.

Also, Aryan totally wasn't stalling simply because he was scared of what he may find just beyond that familiar stone outcropping, resolutely blocking any disturbing images his mind tried to conjure up of the angel lying in a pool of his own blood just a few paces away.

The demon pushed away the unwanted imagery with an audible groan of exasperation, forcibly reminding his gore-tastic imagination that Kiran could just as easily be alive and well - And likely wondering what the hell was taking him so long.

Aryan could only not stall for so long, however, and, for good or ill, he had to face what awaited him; so with shaky hands, the demon forced himself to reach down to grab a rock from the craggy floor below. The cold stone Aryan eventually fished from the ground was small by anyone's measures, just a pebble really and going so far as to call it a rock would be far too generous. When the demon wrapped his searching hand about the thing and encircled it in his tentative grip, it was like he was holding air, the tiny speck of rock shard almost getting lost in his large hand entirely within the first few minutes of having the thing.