Fire Temple
Elena looked down, eyes wandering as she thought about what Thorn had asked her. Her shoulders dropped as the breathed in deeply before slowly looking back up. "How much do you want to know?" A pause as she began to give her reasoning, "It's just, I think some things would be better given answers by Svorn because... well, I don't know everything and... It's him we're talking about."
Thorn raised a hand before quickly lowering it, shuffling in his chair. "It's alright. You don't need to tell me everything, but please tell me as much as you feel comfortable saying. I need to know as much as you can give me."
She sighed. "Alright then..."
***
A thud resounded as Svorn's body hit the wall. His brow creased as confusion crossed his face. A pain resonated inside of him, a pain emanating from his side and climbing, climbing, climbing through his diaphragm and chest, creeping to his lungs. His breathing became deeper and deeper as he desperately tried to sustain air through the lungs that seemed to be destroying themselves with the passing of every second. His pulse became irregular as the pain stretched to his heart and he screamed.
What happened? He was fine just a moment ago. Where did this pain come from?
Hands grappling, he desperately clambered for his shirt lifting it and staring at the skin beneath. Red speckles crept through the skin along with the long spindles of veins that stuck out like a black spot on a white plate. And that was exactly how it looked. As he stared, his eyes became redder and redder, widening in complete shock at the mess. Scar tissue formed around it, circling it in a white border as it sat there, pulsing.
Vantablack, black as pitch, darker and darker the longer he looked, the shard pulsed with an unearthly light. And as he watched, it slowly peeked out from its sitting position as black liquid crept out from it, blotching the strange wound and seeming to enter his veins as they too turned black.
A cry burst from his mouth, ricocheting off the walls.
Hands scrabbling against the wound tearing and scraping, desperately ripping skin off whilst it closed just as quick. Skin replaced skin as blood flew from the torn pieces, yet still they closed. Still, he was no closer to getting that black stone out of him. It stuck, and it clung, and it stung. And it spread further.
A cry as he continued his intense scrabbling, following by more spreading of both the back liquid and the pain. It went faster and faster and faster, and his eyes became more and more urgently worried and freaked out, thinning pupils before they enlarged and then thinned once again.
A guttural scream burst from his mouth as he bent over, pain wracking his body like a thousand knives. Slowly pushing himself to his feet, he started moving – a limping run, desperately attempting to find help. One foot placed in front of the other, a constant rhythm became the purpose he lived by. He ran and stumbled and ran and stumbled.
A swelling began building inside him, welling up, crying like a steam into a tidal wave washing over him. Power, his power, his ability, rising and rising. Fire echoing inside him. He could barely hold it together. He could barely keep it down. But with all of his will, he tried and pushed and shoved it down.
He needed to get away. He needed to get to safety. He needed to get away from people. For, if it rose again, he didn't know if he could hold it down.
Veins crept to his neck now, black liquid rising towards his head. Gold and red flashed past, steams of colours, black and white, mountains of shades he couldn't see, he could no longer pay attention to.
YOU ARE READING
Frozen Flame
Fantastik[Finished and being edited] Once captured by a distraught king, a fierce warrior is forced to choose between saving his family or his country. But choices are never that simple. ...
