Burning up
He choked. The cold was cutting, tearing at him, trying to beat the will to get up out of him. The strange stone felt rough yet unbearably smooth under his numb fingertips. Too many feet had shuffled over it, trying to escape the small cave.
Ninety-two and eight might seem much to some, yet the floor counted in millions -
The outside nothing but darkness. Staircases carved from bone, handrails spiked and ever-rusting but never crumbling completely. He took a deep breath and started to walk, focusing on shielding his spirit, shielding his emotions. He moved quickly and stayed in cover, stayed in the odd shadows of this place. It was better to remain unseen here.
He remembered her, her words, her laughter, her tears, her eyes and her skin; ducked in a small alcove he waited until the sound of wings was becoming more silent. Only the Crimson Mistress knew what creatures lived here, and maybe not even her. He certainly didn't want to find out close up and personal.
The cold was biting his skin where the damaged armor exposed it. The metal was smeared with dirt and blood, and it felt strange to look at it and knew that it had hurt quite a lot more a few moments ago. But at least it didn't reflect.
He took a deep breath. All sounds were strangely muffled, but that didn't mean a thing.
Onwards. He would look for them. He would find them. And then he would return to her, hopefully with good news -
And then he had to speak to Teshia or Caraick, had to speak about the Order with her. Maybe they would understand, maybe they would not. He could worry about that later.
Sobbing in the distance.
“Miomai?”
A familiar voice. Voron frowned and hurried forwards, entering the twisted cathedral. The air was still terribly cold, if it was air he was breathing -
“Mariana? Are you here?”
No answer. He listened and walked towards the direction the voice came from.
He was still cold, despite the rags he had wrapped around himself. He found them near a big heap of trash, things someone threw away that had been here before. A strange land. He even found a bow that was in good shape, and three arrows. More after he looked around a bit and found the scene of a fight.
The arrowheads looked nasty, barbed, possibly poisoned before: black stained edges. The feathers must be from a strange creature that lived around here. Looked interesting. If he went back, payed the tribute he would see if one of these things traveled back with him or not.
More barren wasteland. The terrain was difficult, and he stayed away from anything that looked like a structure or movements. He came pretty close to something back in small gorge a while ago, and there was no telling what it had been. It could move pretty silent, that was for sure.
Different from the creature that jumped him a while ago when he tried to heal a small cut with some crystal way energy. It was difficult enough to weave the energy into the glyph, and then this thing that looked like a collections of spikes and blades on four legs jumped at him. Luckily its attack hit the armor part that was still mostly intact.
Staying close to possible cover, he moved on in silence.
Voron Amar payed his tribute to Dakkru an uncounted time later, and his name was written up again in the large book.
He just lay there a while, feeling the warmth of the azure crystal again.
***
Tried to write something PS related again and chose an ongoing RP to be the subject. 609 words.
