The Original Chronicles of the Nightshade

Sanctuary

Nightshade woke up shivering, the cold cutting through her jacket, the strips of burnt fabric singeing the surface of her scales. Her head was ringing and her vision was blurry. Everything around her was on fire, illuminating the air in violent orange hues. She could feel the fire licking up her body, trying to make its way past her scales that locked into place, unwavering in the pressure of heat.

She stumbled in the rubble, pulling away from the destruction, climbing over the debris and ash of dust. She stared up at the sky as the rain started to fall, trickling down her face. She choked a silent cry for help, gritting her teeth and holding on to the torn and burned rags of her own security. Who would come to help her? The cold danced on the edges of the flames licking up her body, beneath the skies that welled up in tears.

The first drop of water that hit Nightshade's head slid down her scalp and over the scales of her left ear, trying to soak itself between the edges of her scales. Then the rest followed, trickling and slapping against the ground. Nightshade's world started to teeter, and she couldn't find the strength to keep her balance. Throwing her hands out, she felt her body slide down the rubble and land hard against a concrete wall.

She laid there in the rain, staring up at the smouldering fire and tumbling rains. She saw the shape in the midst of the pile. "Help..." She croaked, before darkness embraced her mind.

*

The ticking of the clock made her eyes pop open. Each mechanical shift was too loud, echoing in the room.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

All the things she use to read always added a tock but that never came. Why do people have clocks anymore? What happened to the ones that never made a sound? Silent red numbers on a black face.

Tick. Tick.

She sat up, curling the blanket around her body. Blanket.

Where am I? One bed, wooden and sturdy. The small clock screamed from the top of the dresser. There were no windows and it took her a moment to realize that it was dark, her eyes already letting her see within the darkness, the shades of black and gray. She could hear the rain on the other side of the wall, attacking the warm barrier. The room assaulted her nose with something putrid and acrid mixed with a sweeter taste she couldn't current place. It took her moment to realize the smell was her own body odor. Being outside all the time gave her the luxury of never having to experience her own stench.

The door was to her right, closed and she could see the lights crawling across the floor. A symphony of red and orange, beckoning her outside the security of the room.

Tick.

Where am I? She started to stand and immediately noticed the lack of clothing on her body. The comfort and security of rags were gone, and she had never thought that she'd feel the lack of pants on her person. She felt so exposed, but instead of the invasive cold, she felt the heat of the walls radiating as if the very sun were beyond them. She stopped as she spotted a set of white clothes at the foot of the bed. They seemed entirely too small for her.

Wrapping her naked body in the covers, she let her feet touch the ground, ignoring the way her muscles groaned at every movement. She curled the little strands of carpet in between her toes before lightly making her way to the door, cracking it open.

Incandescent light stabbed her pupils and she hissed, pulling her way back into the darkness. Shaking her head, she pulled the door open wider and squinted her eyes, pulling the covers around her tighter. The hall was narrow and made Nightshade's breath short, as she could hear every rustle of the fabric against her body, cotton singing against scales. The walls were covered with shelves, books that smelled of dust and ink, jars that left a sharp chemical taste in her mouth, carrying a gelatinous substance with various strange bones and insects sitting still in their centers.