Scorch

Prologue

The desert was quiet. A lonely city loomed silently, the single blemish in a sea of black sand. Guards snored at their posts, engines ran cold, and families rested peacefully without a care in the world. It seemed to be an uneventful night for the humans of Bastion, the last civilized stronghold in a world gone savage. Even the Prime Minister's estate had little light at the late hour. All rooms were dark except for one. Inside the mansion's walls, the door to this particular room burst open, revealing a flustered, angry man. He wore loose black robes and a scarf to keep away the constant sand, but this time it wasn't sand he needed to ward off. Another man, tall and broad-shouldered, watched from the lit office with an expressionless mask as his subordinate ran off to lick his wounds.

Razz limped down the hallway away from the cage that was the Minister's office, his face set in a glare. His boots, made of chimera leather, made no sound against the patterned marble floor despite his clumsy gait. Behind the man, the designs were disrupted by dark splotches. He clutched his mouth tightly, and pale fingers held back the rush of black threatening to spill. As he passed by an open window, the moonlight revealed the black for what it was: blood. The cool desert wind did wonders to the burning pain on his mouth, but it could not stem the growth of hate and rage blossoming within his gut. No, that heat could not go away - could never go away.

Razz rounded a corner and growled when he pushed past two surprised guards. As he rushed away, he could hear the guards muttering to each other. The Minister's favorite pet is in trouble again, they would whisper amongst themselves. Of course, they would never risk saying such a thing to his face. Not if they wanted to live. The thought of cutting one's tongue out would have brought a grin to his face had said face not been messed up. He groaned in relief at the sight of his cell's door. Finally - FINALLY - he shouldered his way in. A few more steps brought him to a rickety drawer propped against the wall. He fumbled with the stopper of a green-blue vial that stood on its surface. Razz' breathing grew ragged as he let his hand fall and raised the vial to his lips. When his other hand dropped from his mouth, blood gushed to the floor with sickening slaps.

Ah! A sigh escaped Razz when the potion began its work. A pleasant tingling caressed his skin where his Minister sliced open the sides of his mouth. The flesh began to sew itself together again, and the dripping stopped. Razz let himself fall backwards into his cot, arms outstretched on either side. Once the rest of his cheek sewed shut, he opened and closed his jaw, baring his teeth at an unseen enemy on his prison's ceiling.

He thought the place a prison because that is exactly what it was. Razz's living space - the only thing he laid claim to - was an unimpressive, colorless cube with nothing more than eight feet in any direction. He slept in a threadbare cot that squealed all the time, and a large wooden cabinet sat next to the cot. The cabinet was a gift from the Minister when Razz first moved into the estate. Suddenly, he felt like burning it.

Raising it above his head, Razz stared at the drained vial. Globules of the green-blue substance still stuck to the insides of the container, softly glowing in the darkness. He knew the process: another's suffering brought him solace and rid him of his own pain. Despite his satisfaction in this knowledge, he always felt so dirty drinking from it. Razz's emotionless stare tightened into a glare.

The vial shattered on the floor.

-

Hello! It's been a while since I have posted on WattPad, but I'm hoping to get a few reads for this new story I'm writing. It's my deepest wish to publish this story into a novel someday. Everything I post here will be first drafts unless I say differently, but when I have time, I will go back and revise previous chapters and fill in any plot holes I didn't notice before. However, as I am a busy junior in high school, it would be a huge help to me if someone were to beta read each chapter before I post each week. This person would have to be willing to put in their two cents on my work in a very small window if need be since I stay up very late each night to finish my homework and don't have much time to write. That being said, I will do my very best to post at least once a week, but I will not restrict myself to any day in particular. "Next week" could mean Monday or Saturday; who knows! Anyway, thank you to everyone who is willing to give my sad little story a read, and have a good week, whenever you are! -BansheeRymm (the screen name I go by nowadays)