I opened one eye, saw a pale face with green eyes complete with a twisted expression, and closed my eyes. I wondered how long Mark had waited there. I wondered what he wanted. I was too tired to deal with this.
I was sore and my injuries weren't looking too good. I was starting to worry that they would get infected. If they did get infected, there was nothing I could do about it. I was also starting to question why – whyhedidit whatIdidtodeservethis – the worst of my injuries had been cauterised. I wondered if Mark still cared somewhere deep in his mind, but I refused to entertain that thought. It would only hurt me.
I shrugged off my thoughts and noted that Mark wasn't leaving. I would have to deal with this then. I stood up, scabs cracking and sending rivulets of blood running down my body. I stood up on sore and tired legs. Chains clattered, but I had fewer chains now and they were longer. I was more comfortable – comfortable! As if I could ever be comfortable in a cage.
I laid down at the very front of the cage and snorted smoke at Mark. Mark waved his hand through the smoke and glared at me, like I cared, like I would flinch. I stared at him but didn't move. He wanted to speak, so I would give him an audience. I wouldn't care, though. He was nothing to me.
"What the hell was that all about?" Mark shouted suddenly, and I tensed my muscles instinctively, before forcing myself to relax. I yawned instead, the action done out of spite and to rile Mark up further – probably a bad idea, but the only thing I could do. "You just stopped fighting! And then the other dragon stopped fighting! There was no warning or anything! And then you just collapsed and the other dragon just stood opposite you and didn't move. You probably would've bled out if I hadn't called an end to the match because it was so boring."
I grinned because I knew something Mark didn't. Mark glared at me. "I can promise you this won't happen again," he said, before marching away like he had some important business to attend to. I let my laughter follow him out, chuckling at how he had come here for no reason and he had gained nothing.
He had gained nothing and I had. Mark knew nothing of the planning that had happened. He didn't know that there was hope again. He didn't know that Seeryath was alive. He didn't know that I was working against him. He didn't know, and that thought filled me with a giddy feeling.
He didn't know!
***
I shuffled forward, each paw testing the ground beneath it before I put down my full weight. I walked like it was something new, and it was, to a degree. The loss of my wings – whereweretheywhereweretheywherewerethey – had changed my balance. Upset it. I had never noticed how much my wings had helped me walk, had acted as a tool for balance. My wings were to me what arms were to humans.
That was a thought... human... arms... weapons. I let the thought fade, not wanting to review it and think about it for fear of what it would mean. I leapt up, chains rattling against the cool stone, and felt the air rush over me like the wind had once done when I had flown, when I could still fly.
I landed heavily, bitterness waging war in my heart and my mind. I didn't want this! I let the rage well within me and then overflow, fire bathing my cell in light and encompassing me. Fire flickered along my back, along my scales, clinging for a moment before fading.
I paused, interested in how the fire had clung to me. I twisted and let fire flare to existence, washing myself in a stream of fire that seemed alive. I watched as it climbed over my scales, sparking and flaring and flickering, but there. The dirt and mud and dried blood that had stuck to my scales was falling off, turning to ash beneath the might of my own fire. The fire grew lower before dying and I was stuck in darkness again.
I waited to regain my eyesight, before studying my scales. I could see most of my scales again, dull and scratched and dented, but no longer hidden. I frowned at their appearance; I rolled my shoulders and could feel the pain that come as the scales dug into muscle.
I looked around and smiled grimly, recognising that Mark had inadvertently given me just what I needed. I rubbed my shoulder against the rough stone walls, doing my best to force my scales off.
I was probably rather strange as I had needed to shed my scales often throughout my life. Scales were only shed when they had become damaged and needed to be removed. It resulted in a lot of irritation and itchiness as another scale grew beneath the damaged scale. The ruined scale would only come off after being rubbed or scratched.
I stopped my rubbing and took a step away from the wall and, as I had thought would happen, there was a few dull scales on the ground. I hadn't even noticed the itchiness, but now I could feel it. My mind had previously been fixated on other things so I hadn't realised the need to shed my scales. I would probably lose most of my scales, considering how many were damaged and ruined. That wasn't anything new, though. My fighting experience meant that I had shed my scales frequently as they had become damaged in a fight.
I wondered what Mark would think when he next saw me. When he saw I had new scales and I was clean.
I hoped he would be shocked. I hoped I would see it. I hoped I could laugh at him.
I would laugh at him either way, because here was a resistance and a rebellion occurring right beneath him and he would never know.
He would never look down to know.
***
I didn't gleam or glint or glow, but my scales were something other than dull, scratched, and dented. They were almost-new but not quite, because I didn't want to gleam in the light just yet. I would wait for that moment to come, because that it would be something mysterious, it would be intimidating, and it would make Mark stumble and falter because he thought I was powerless.
The joke was on him though, since I was far from powerless. I had only become stronger with everything he did, with all the pain he caused me.
I stepped out into the brightly lit arena, scents of death-injury-pain-infection-anger-grief-rage-sorrow-madness flooding my nostrils, and I did my best to ignore it. The other dragon who entered was a light grey-brown, but I couldn't tell what their actual scale colour was. Blue-grey eyes stared at me filled with anger, but I could tell that the anger wasn't aimed at me. It was aimed at the situation and those responsible.
This dragon wasn't going to strike immediately and, for that, I was thankful. It would be easier to start a conversation, easier to change this dragon's mind – as long as they hadn't given up hope. I lunged forward, my steps covering the distance quickly, and then I was rearing up onto my hind legs and meeting the other dragon in a midst of claws and carefully planned attacks. The other dragon was trying to harm me, they wanted to live, but every blow I landed was soft and the other dragon had weakened their blows in confusion.
"Fake it," I hissed at the other dragon, landing on four legs and slipping away from an attack to circle. The other dragon, confusion clear on their face, circled as well. "Seeryath is back," I said, somehow managing to translate Seeryath's name into a sound or at least a word that sounded similar to Seeryath. Names were hard to say aloud, simply due to the nature of names being said aloud and always in human-tongue mentally.
The other dragon faltered, clearly stricken between believing me and ignoring my words. "She's alive," I said, and still found myself wondering at the words, still found them like some unbelievable lie, and despite the fact I had seen Seeryath for myself, I couldn't help but wonder if this was another game, another torment. "She's alive and we have a plan. We have a plan," I repeated.
"A plan," the other dragon rasped, and the bewilderment and disbelief I felt was clear in their tone.
"A plan," I agreed, disbelief wrapped with something like hope. "We're going to escape. We're going to get out of here. We're going to live!"
"Escape," the other dragon echoed, something like life entering their tone. The other dragon tilted their head. "How is this going to work?"
"We're going to gather as many allies as we can. We'll figure it out from there," I said, ignoring the panic in the back of my mind, the knowledge that we had no plan but just desperation and hopedetermination.
"Alright," the other dragon said. "I hold you to your words, Kendov."
I grinned, eyes bright, because Fighter – Kendov – was a name that had been bestowed on me. It was not something I had taken for myself and it hadn't been because of Mark. Fighter was something that hadn't been ruined by my actions or Mark's actions and words. It was something untainted in my tainted world.
"Good," I responded, and maybe there was something unspoken that had been promised. "We will leave this place behind," I said, emphasising the importance. The sweet taste of the words laid on my tongue, ever-lasting and strong.
The other dragon lifted their head and nodded. With proud and strong steps, they walked up to me and stood by my side. We would stand until they figured out we wouldn't fight. We would stand and we would be proud, be strong, be hopeful.
For there was hope.
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When your chapters combine because you aren't reaching the word count for them... Oh well, I'm getting closer to the end of this book, and starting to struggle more with these chapters. I'm aiming to write 5300 more words today, though. Hopefully, I manage that!
That's me out for now.
See ya all!
SilentSilverSlip/Gabby
Edited: 1/02/2021