Fire Tournament Arena
The Fire Lord stared down at Thorn, hands tied with rope, soldiers running towards safety by the gates behind him. He watched the last of the children's confinement unshackle and scanned the guards retreating back to safety once again. All doors and gates were shut.
His eyes hardened; Thorn spun on his heel and began running back towards the soldiers, halting when the ground began to spin. There was no point in continuing. He would never reach the gates.
He looked at the crowd, beginning his run once again. He was trying to get out.
The air above the walls shimmered, a thin flame licking over the top to create a half-sphere. The flame hardened, becoming invisible heat. The air still shimmered, the shield was still just as hard, but it allowed itself to become a glass pane for the audience to peer through.
Clearing his throat, the Fire Lord looked over at Lord Delro. They met eyes. Delro sighed and held out a hand. Fire at the side of the audience seats flared up, spewing smoke. A tendril speared out, speeding above to audience to a side of the shield. A tiny gap in the shield opened and the tendril snuck through, winding its way towards Thorn.
Noticing the smoke sitting about a foot from his head, Thorn stumbled back, turning and bolting away in an attempt to outrun the smoke. But nothing could outrun it. The smoke curled around Thorn's head, streaming through his ears, mouth and nose in a most delicate pattern. Thorn slowed, lips trembling as he reached a hand to his head. His knees buckled and his throat moved as he attempted to spew the smoke. To no avail.
Svorn stared down at him, swallowing. His eyes shuddered between a look of intense pain and an empty pit until finally settling in a hollow and blank position. A smirk crept up his face and he crossed his arms, sitting back.
He spoke, voice amplified by the abilities of those around him. "I welcome everyone to the final and most provocative fight of this round. Thorn against his little children. How cute! They'll be duking it out inside the ring – against each other until one of them dies or something halts the match. Soldiers and Council members must all be on standby – this is Thorn we're dealing with; I don't want any mishaps. You all know the rules; there's no need to spell them out again." A chuckle. "Commence the fight!"
Still clutching his head, the children turned their attention to Thorn.
What was happening?
What was he doing?
Thorn would never fight his own children... How would the audience expect a battle from this?
But something was happening with Thorn.
Body shaking, he collapsed on the ground, writhing in such intense agony it was clear how much he was desperately attempting to resist. His fingers jerked around in odd patterns as his teeth gritted with hisses of breath spilling out. His neck stretched long and veins popped from all places as his legs scrabbled across the ground to pull him up and away.
And then the movement stopped.
And his eyes opened, empty and bored.
He stood and looked at his children, unrecognisable in his eyes.
Pricks of fire spilled over the ends of his fingers, hardening to form elongated claws – sharp. The fire continued down his hand, leaving hardened scales in their wake as it flipped over and over again in a continuous pattern, drawing small scales in thin lines over his flesh. They criss-crossed merging together going down and up, moving layers of his clothing and crawling up his neck and around his eyes. Fire licked across his eyes and nose and mouth, changing parts of his complexion, turning his teeth sharp, his nose closing over, his eyes to white. The scales continued up his forehead, forming over his hair and drilling up two horns with pulling clunks and twitching muscles. Clicks echoed from his back and bones turned beneath his flesh, merging with the fire and erupting from his back in two ginormous wings. Their weight, seemingly light from the fire that filled it, was so heavy that Thorn was forced to compensate by leaning forward in a growling, almost animalistic position. His legs stood apart in a bracing yet contorted stance, the talons gripping deep into the earth. From directly above his behind, bones forced his body to shudder as fire flared out to become a long, thin tail, an arrowhead standing proudly at its end.
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Frozen Flame
Fantasy[Finished and being edited] Once captured by a distraught king, a fierce warrior is forced to choose between saving his family or his country. But choices are never that simple. ...
