A Deadly Bite

31.2 || Shattering Promises

Despite the growing light of day, the darkness closes in fast. It chases them in a haze, crackling cold in the air along with the staticy thickness of an oncoming storm. It growls from the depths of the sky's gloom, curled tight and dwelling within the misty shadows of the castle's crumbled remains, a live beast stalking the corner of Fiesi's eye and leaping away the moment he turns. Piles of stone bricks and fallen towers look on with the dull, terrible grace of gravestones. The crunch of grit and bits of rock underfoot might as well be bones.

Though so much of the structure appears to be caved in and torn away on this side, the castle itself still clings to life. Soon enough, he's faced with a looming archway, a gaping maw choking on a deeper, fluid-like darkness. The splintered pieces of an old wooden door, snapped and beaten until barely recognisable, spill out before it. A dizzying wave of something like nostalgia sweeps over him, a split-second memory painted with a drying, scratchy brush: Fayre's hands in his, and then the twitch in his flame, the overwhelming moment that marks the true beginning of all this. He finds himself staring at one particular spot amongst the door's ruins, sure for that brief, breathless second that it isn't quite so empty and clogged with dust. For that moment, he sees a wild tangle of black curls, and a pale, dirty face, nightmare eyes squeezed shut to hide from the sun. A  scrawny, shaking, innocent boy, all ready to stutter Fiesi's heart and to change everything.

He blinks, and the vision vanishes. He finds himself mourning it. Now everything has changed, and then changed again, and the pit of darkness is far wider than Nathan's nervous gaze.

I'll get you back, Nathan. The words harden and set in the forefront of his mind, even as some part of him gathers the senseless urge to laugh. I promise. Another drip of a promise to drown amongst the endless sea of them.

He doesn't realise he's stopped until Sarielle nudges his arm. "Fiesi."

"Sorry." He shakes his head, dispelling the cloudy thoughts, trying to empty his cluttered mind. His gaze slips upward in search of the sun, though it's hidden behind a wall of cloud. "Goodbye, daylight."

Neither the sun nor the dim winter light have the courtesy to reply. Breath held, he takes the plunge into the darkness.

The tendrils of blue light radiating outward from his flaming spear spread, slippery claws that fail to fully grasp at their surroundings. They flicker and bounce off chipped white walls, golden ribbons lying sad and limp upon floorboards cracked from so many marching footsteps. Crusted bloodstains are everywhere. Fiesi's stomach clenches, the taste of bile stinging the back of his throat. He swallows hard and carries on into the castle's front hall.

These battles he only ever heard, not saw. The storming of Polevis was a hellish period he only barely skirted; the stench of the many battles that took place is still thick and nauseating in the air. The Cormé truly could be brutal. Jaci asked why -- why they would ruin the past beauty of this city with blood and greed -- and with every step he takes, that question only grows louder, a screaming horn that echoes within the depths of his flame. Why? Why kill? Why destroy? How could anyone possibly stitch together a reason which justified this?

Again his thoughts stumble upon Nathan, and he inhales sharply. Perhaps that's the danger of it. The people who do such things without mercy, the evil ones, don't need a reason.

Shaula's destruction was equally devoid of reason. Maybe that was why she slithered her way here and now claims this place. It suits her.

His hands shake, quivering his spear. He holds it up diagonally in defence and whirls around a corner, narrowing his eyes to scan each room, careful to keep breathing, in and out, over and over. Panic is a swelling tide, difficult to keep suppressed. It saps his energy. If Sarielle wasn't by his side, azure light glancing off her curved blade and the sharp determination in her eyes, he fears he'd give into it. He longs to lean against a wall and regain his breath, close his eyes, hide from the darkness for a little while, though he's well aware that if he stops now then he will never get going again.