Dakyres of Ardor | BoyxBoy ✓

6 | Cold Heat

FALDREY.
THE TAL DANE'S CASTLE DUNGEONS.

Cold heat.

How was that so?

Was he dead or alive? And if he was, why was the Otherrealm so foul smell. Why did the Otherrealm smell like a dysfunctional morgue.

Faldrey raised a finger, the motion sent a pang of pain all over his arm. He did feel pain, so that meant he was still alive. Slowly trying to open his eyes, dreading what situation he might find himself in. Moving his eyes around under its lid, he squeezed his eyes, once then twice before opening them.

It was dark but not too dark, he could make out some images when the dark dots blocking his vision cleared out. Stone ceiling, he was laying on his back with his face up.

He then summoned enough strength to prop himself up, first on his elbows, before dragging the lower half of his body so he could rest his back on the wall. The pain he felt when he lifted his index finger was nothing compared to the gush of pain that upreared to every part of his body, especially in his joints.

The cold heat of the wall seared through the tattered fabric on his back, burning him, but he was too tired to respond. Too tired to move away from the wall which somehow managed to possess both freezing and burning temperatures.

Drawing in breath through his gritted teeth while seizing every motion, he hoped the pain would go away if he stopped moving. Faldrey's mind was hazy and clogged. He tried to think, tried to remember but all he could hear were the screams and cries of his people as they got hoisted away or shot by the Westerners.

The Westies, the army of Flame Breathers.

He gasped as he finally remembered something other than screams, smoke and madness.

His burning home, his father's death cry, the lifeless body of his mother on the ground just directly below the dim, sad moon, the fire Dakyres he killed and the Mage.

The unworldly Mage who was the reason he was here. Her bright auburn hair flailing in the wind.

...sleep for you shall wake up in a beautiful place.

The last words he heard echoed through his head. He was finally starting to remember and realise the grave situation he was in.

This was no beautiful place. He scanned his surroundings with his eyes, keeping his head in place. He couldn't dare to lift as much as a muscle fibre, scared of the excruciating pain he felt every time he moved. The contraction and expansion of his dust filled lungs every time he heaved hurt his ribs and his chest.

Taking in the full view of the room, only for him to realise it wasn't a room. It was dungeon cell. A very murky, horrid smelling dungeon cell.

There were other people lying around him, they were still fast asleep. The person lying right next to him resembled a Dakyre from the Great Mustard Tree. He had never seen one before, hell, he had never even left his village before let alone crossing over to another tribe. But he knew what they looked like, with their pale green cut jacket and barret with colourful feathers.

He recognised some Dakyres from the Floating Mountains and a couple more from the Great Mustard Tree. He also recognised the bright blue coat of his tribe on a few other Dakyres in the cell with him.

Reaching out in a very pained movement, he gently nudged the Earth Dakyre lying beside him. His body felt cold, really cold. Faldrey placed his palm over his wrist, feeling, his hand was so cold... and lifeless! Faldrey did not feel a pulse on the boy's wrist.