Paper Crowns [On Hold]

[17] Wall of Fire

"How does it feel? To be so... tame?" the woman questions, her impassive face mere inches from mine. If I wasn't paralyzed completely, I'd shiver ten times over. The hollowness in her eyes is haunting, as vacant as the bodies of the victims.

How did she paralyze us? We didn't eat or drink anything, we had just sat down when- oh. I see. It was the dust. It has to be the dust she blew on us. Nothing else makes sense.

Did she know we were coming? We followed Mike here, is he a part of this? Or have they caught him as well? Is this a chemical attack or a magical one? Who is this woman?

Calm down. There is a way out of this mess, I just have to find it.

"Who are you?" Ethan asks, his voice coming out strained and guttural. How can he already speak?!

I try to force my lips to move but to no avail. I've no choice but to be still and watch.

The woman furrows her eyebrows as she roughly claws at his jaw. "You're better trained than we thought. I was expecting another 10 minutes."

From somewhere in the room, a loud clap thunders, echoing off the drywall of this cage. Then, the deep baritone of a man. "Which means we should get ready, right dearest Gen?"

Intense burning prickles the back of my throat and I'm unable to breathe. The heaviness continues to build, my mind spinning from the lack of air. Like the cork popping out of a bottle, all the pressure floods out instantly. I gasp, choking on the overwhelming influx of air.

My vision blurs and I find myself blinking desperately, clinging to what bit I can see. Slowly, everything comes into shape, crisp as ever as a vague mist settles in.

Despite my efforts, my body seizes, recoiling as I take in the silhouette of a man.

"Ah, I'm guessing she's your doing as well? Right, Sage?"

Only my head can move to my will, but it's enough to allow me a decent glimpse of the man, who is now lounging on the wooden table in front of us, his electric blue eyes trained on Ethan.

"Who are you?" Ethan repeats, ignoring the man's question.

The man matches Ethan's glare but lacks the burning fire behind his gaze. This raven-haired mystery is just as vacant as his accomplice.

Instead of answering, he leans to the left, reaching for the basket of stale fruits. With his index finger, he taps an apple once. Within seconds, the entire basket is coated in a harsh blanket of ice.

We watch as the fruits trapped inside rot and decay, resembling ones that have been neglected for decades.

The message is loud and clear. We are not in a position to negotiate.

"I'm sure you're aware, ice tends to melt," Ethan states nonchalantly. I slowly swivel my head in his direction, wondering what in the world he's plotting.

"Surely you didn't take me for a one trick pony, Sage" the man replies, his index finger now resting pointedly on Ethan's knee.

No. No, no, no. Not Ethan.

I don't care how strong a guardian's healing is, I doubt we can regrow entire limbs.

"Come on, leave him alone. Isn't there a purpose to this? What do you want?" I growl.

The man glances at me and raises an eyebrow, considering his answer. He smirks and says, "ideally, information."

He pulls aside the collar of Ethan's t-shirt, revealing the scar I've wondered about for weeks. The scar starting behind Ethan's left ear, from the tip, and running all the way down his neck. Now I see where it stops- right on the left shoulder joint.