Snippets

I. Fire & Ice

His eyes stayed frozen as another whip sound cracked through the dank walls of the dungeons. The stench of bitterness, isolation and punishment was palpable in the stale atmosphere.

The prisoner bellowed; an unearthly sound that could make human blood run cold, but he stood on the ground unfazed. Mercy and forgiveness seemed to evaporate in his proximity.

Another slash; another cry.

Blood seeped down the calloused back and shoulders of the mortal captive, pooling down near the foot of his.

His pitiless eyes scrutinized the blood as his nose scrunched up in disgust.

A mere mortal. Powerless fools to roam around the planet. Why don't they just cease to exist? That would certainly be a gift to the Dame Nature.

The slashes of the whip continued, so did the flow of the blood from the prisoner's frail body. The prisoner's cry, although, seemed to have died down a bit. From tiredness or weakness? He couldn't tell.

When the soldier, who was inflicting such unspeakable pain over the culprit, paused for a while to quench his thirst, he tsk-ed and walked away.

The soldiers and the guards on his way bowed their heads down showing him the utmost respect. Without even sparing them a glance, he stepped out of the prison cells.

His foot took him to the plain ground, where the winter sun glowed dimly and the cool, fresh mountain winds gently caressed his face and limbs.

Closing his fiery amber eyes, he basked in the warmth of the sun. He could feel it. Feel the heat through the thick layers of his expensive silk robes, then penetrate the layers of his skin and ignite the power that swirled through his veins. He could feel the temperature of his body rising after the time spends in the cold, soulless jail. Something burned behind his eyelids, he felt it.

His powers were resurfacing.

His palms burnt, sparks of fire danced on his fingertips. But they dare not slip. He was controlling them, not the other way around.

Goosebumps decorated his skin as he was aware of the inferno inside him, wanting to be unleashed and burn down everything in its wake. Like a wildfire, they would turn down the jungle in its vicinity into a few piles of ash.

His heartbeat increased, so did his pace of breathing. All these years, he had been taught to control it. To subside every kind of emotion that can overwhelm him.

For once he wanted this invincible strength of his to consume him, wholly.

The temperature of his body was going haywire, the blood thumping on the walls of his blood vessels and his heart going wild in the ribcage.

All the words of his Teacher to control his feelings were then a soft buzz somewhere in the back of his head.

Release it. Release it all.

The offer was tempting.

His mighty power was gaining control gradually like a piece of paper absorbing the water from the ground, bit by bit.

Something burned his palms. If any pair of eyes looked at him, they would see the blazing fire twirling around on his palms.