Crimson

Chapter Forty

As his death state lessened, his spirit returning to his body with a heavy thud, Pligal noticed a familiar sight before his view was torn from his grasp. An oddly encased form, wreathed in gray with bulbous orbs surrounded by luminous beings wrapped in white, brilliant light, a light so intense, it seemed to burn his spirit, his essence.

As he briefly glimpsed this sight, Pligal noticed something within the gray encased figure in the center of the shimmering entities. A presence, a feeling, a connection with this being, one that surpassed all other Ak-Wo, even his beloved Sri.

Sri, he thought before his connection severed, how he missed seeing her scales, seeing her reprimand him with such loving disdain for his behavior. Two sides of the same field, all-encompassing, and all-enveloping. His longing for her doubled as he spent his moments with the Centuria 23 as well as the Imperial Legate. Only separated for a nearly two full cycles, Pligal could feel his scales ache as she missed her.

Aching, tender throbs erupted around him as the vision was taken from his mind. Prickly plasma, stitching into him, the acrid sea flowing through him, melting him from within, Pligal awoke on his slab feeling the weakest he has ever felt Each scale pulsing with agony, his onyx orbs swelling, his head pounding as if beaten by staffs with his whole Centuria. His limbs bound him to his slab as a tulac stood upon them, their weight pushing his scales deep into the dense stone.

"Ahh." Pligal moaned aloud as the light of the terra god beamed into his porthole, shimmering lovingly over the glittery wall adorning his chamber. "How am I so injured?" Pligal whispered to the vacant room, his voice carrying upon the air as a ghost like smoke swimming in the breeze.

Sitting up, his limbs still snuggly attached to his slab, Pligal's thorax filled with the new air of the cycle. His mind numb, his emotions blunted while his lighting reflex barely flickered. With every draft of air, Pligal felt his pain inundate him, his thoracic cavity shudder with rapid strikes, beating his chest as his body, his scales worked to facilitate life.

A presence in his room turned his attention toward his chamber pathway where a cloaked figure stood. A small figure, petite, yet standing strong, firm yet deliberate. Stepping forward, the light through the porthole passed over the orbs of the shrouded figure. Knowing orbs, with scales bent in concern over watching Pligal latched onto Pligal's gaze.

His body weakened, his vision cloudy, Pligal barely made out the figure as they stepped closer to him. His orbs fluttered softly as darkness attempted to take over him. Pushing it back, Pligal attempted to force his tenuous consciousness towards alertness as his blessing remained aloof.

As they neared, the strange figure said something Pligal could not make out. Confused, giving way to his lethargy, Pligal's body doubled in weight as it crashed upon his slab, bashing his head into the solid rock, mouth agape in agony, his talons tense, writhing in pain.

A soft hum met his audioles as a gentle touch placed pressure on his chest, while another touch lovingly cradled his head. With his orbs shut tight, Pligal's breath, raspy and weakened wheezed as it reverberated through the barren room. As the touch of the stranger tightened as a matriarch soothing their young one.

"Calm yourself, Pligal." The voice said pacifyingly, familiar and sweet.

Immediately, his body relaxed as he discovered who tended to him. With talons so tender, a presence so commanding, Pligal absorbed her touch, his longing to imprint upon her engulfing him. Now with Sri, the patcher encaptivating him, Pligal swooned.

His lighting mechanisms hummed in a soft glow around him as his cerulean wrappings, undressed with the gold bindings, strung around him. Tensing, once more, the scales of his face winced before opening his orbs slowly. Now seated before his own porthole, the light beamed upon her face. The sweet face of Sri.