Mending Bruises, But Not the Heart
None
A few days passed...

The clash of steel echoed in his ears, bone splintering beneath the weight of unseen blows, and the thick, metallic scent of blood clung to the air, choking him. It all felt too real. In the midst of it, he stood—a lone figure in the chaos—cutting through bodies like a scythe through overgrown fields.

"Deyran!", his liege, screamed in the distance, a sound that twisted the air with raw desperation. It pierced through the cacophony, pulling him forward. Heart pounding, he surged toward the cry, cutting down anything in his way. His arms stretched out, fingers mere inches from Deyran’s grasp, but just as they were about to touch—he was ripped away, hurled violently backward by a colossal red creature.

Fergus! The name tore from his throat as his eyes snapped open, his voice fading into the stillness of the room, the last echoes of the dream dissipating like smoke.

Ugh! A sharp sting jolted him, a reminder of his wounded arm— but not how it got that way. The dream’s grip loosened as reality slowly settled back in. He exhaled shakily.

Where— His breath hitched as fragments of memory returned, flickering in his mind like lightning strikes, each one leaving a dull, throbbing ache behind.


Messages In This Thread
Mending Bruises, But Not the Heart - by Deyran - 06-28-2024, 09:30 AM
RE: Mending Bruises, But Not the Heart - by Deyran - 09-12-2024, 03:28 AM