A Dragon's Redemption [Book 2 in Rising Dragons]

Chapter XVIII: Determination

WARNING: Suicidal thoughts.

I... hurt. And it wasn't just the pain from my wings thatweren'tthereandtheyweregoneandIdidn'tknowwhattodoandjustletmediehereplease either. I had never hated anything more in my life than being wingless. To lose something that had always been a part of me, that had always been a fundamental and meaningful part, that had always been important... it had hurt, right down in my bones.

I wanted to die, I fully admitted to that. I couldn't though, not while I still had a purpose. The loss of my wings – andtheyweregone, wherewerethey, whydidmyonedothis, mybeautifulone, why, myreasontolivewhy?? – had only made me come to the conclusion that I had nothing left to lose, that I could pour everything I had into doing my duty. In getting the others the freedom that they deserve.

Another thing that this... thing had caused was the feeling of spite. It flickered in my mind and latched on to every thought I had. It gave me another reason to keep going. I wanted to prove to Mark that he couldn't stop me. I wanted to prove that I was strong. I wanted – toprovethatMarkwaswrongandgethimtojoinme – to show that I was more than my body and I was better than this.

Sometimes dreams – nightmares – woke me up and all I could do was shiver when I woke up. I felt too weak to do anything as if all my energy had been taken along with my wings, mygorgeouswingswherewerethey. I couldn't help but be thankful that I hadn't been called to fight, because I wouldn't be capable of doing anything, not even walking in my current state.

My heart pounded in my chest and my breaths came in gasps as panic and fear and pain overwhelmed me as a scent, once familiar, entered my cell. I shivered and cowered and wondered when the chains had disappeared.

A pale face coupled with blonde hair and green eyes appeared in front of me. I glared at him but it took too much energy to even try snarling, and I let out a huff, even as I shook, and dropped my head on my paws. I felt too drained to bother with this, to bother with Mark.

I was hurting; I was in pain; I was confused. I had been betrayed. Here I was, still living, living in hope and spite with anger tightly tied to my heart and betrayal chained to my mind. Here I was, bound without bindings, hurting without injuries. Here I was, caring but not caring.

Mark didn't say anything, he seemed to look at me once, before fixing his gaze elsewhere. I wondered whether he regretted his actions, what he had caused. It was too late now. He could do nothing to fix what he had done.

I was too tired for this. There was a bone-deep grief and weariness in me, and I wore it for once, allowing it to show. I watched Mark. I knew he would speak. I wondered what he would do.

Would he apologise? He had done that before, with meaning, but as we had grown, the apologies had lessened. I questioned whether there had been signs I had missed, ignored. I wondered if I could've stopped this fall of Mark's.

It was too late for these thoughts. What had happened had happened, and I would have to live with that. I would live with that.

Why was he here?

"Someone out there is still rebelling against me," Mark told me, his voice echoing within the confined space. Why was he telling me this? What reason did he have to do so? Was this some form of torture?

I paused in my thoughts as I realised what Mark had just said. Something – or someone – was rebelling against him. It could be the elves or maybe another force because I had doubts – doubts I had held for a while in the back of my mind where I could ignore them and Mark couldn't see them – that the elves were the only force left for Mark to conquer.