Night of Fate
Ash 75th, 124th Year, A.o.S.
His eyes flung wide open after the dream he had just experienced, Tailen's gasp for air resulting in him turning over from his back to hack and cough any water left in his lungs. Plumes of moisture were visible in his breath after he'd managed to finally clear his throat, and though the dizziness in his head caused him to feel disoriented, the village boy still fought like hell to get back onto his feet... Or at least his knees. Pain shot through him like the heat of a forge mixed with the cold tip of a steel dagger, aching throughout his body as he felt the exhaustion gradually wear itself away.
Perhaps it was second wind, or perhaps it was pure adrenaline that coursed in his veins. Either way, Tailen needed to reorient himself after what had happened on the bridge over the river. His brother might've saved his life but that didn't mean Tailen was fresh out of danger, especially now that he had washed up in the wilderness all on his own. He needed to collectively push himself onto his feet and force the will to press onward, and in doing so, hope that Byron might've also managed to getaway.
But after everything they just saw? After all that happened? Tailen was still a devastated wreck deep within after the waking nightmare he just braved, and now, he was all alone in the dark with no hope of finding anyone else he might've knew... Unless... There was still the possibility other villagers might've gotten out, before the fires and the Dread Mist came in to swamp the streets of Hanz Villa. There had already been so much death in Tailen's life, and to see all that happened earlier this night...
It would leave a grave wound he felt incapable of ever healing from completely.
Ash 75th, 124th Year, A.o.S.
His eyes flung wide open after the dream he had just experienced, Tailen's gasp for air resulting in him turning over from his back to hack and cough any water left in his lungs. Plumes of moisture were visible in his breath after he'd managed to finally clear his throat, and though the dizziness in his head caused him to feel disoriented, the village boy still fought like hell to get back onto his feet... Or at least his knees. Pain shot through him like the heat of a forge mixed with the cold tip of a steel dagger, aching throughout his body as he felt the exhaustion gradually wear itself away.
Perhaps it was second wind, or perhaps it was pure adrenaline that coursed in his veins. Either way, Tailen needed to reorient himself after what had happened on the bridge over the river. His brother might've saved his life but that didn't mean Tailen was fresh out of danger, especially now that he had washed up in the wilderness all on his own. He needed to collectively push himself onto his feet and force the will to press onward, and in doing so, hope that Byron might've also managed to getaway.
But after everything they just saw? After all that happened? Tailen was still a devastated wreck deep within after the waking nightmare he just braved, and now, he was all alone in the dark with no hope of finding anyone else he might've knew... Unless... There was still the possibility other villagers might've gotten out, before the fires and the Dread Mist came in to swamp the streets of Hanz Villa. There had already been so much death in Tailen's life, and to see all that happened earlier this night...
It would leave a grave wound he felt incapable of ever healing from completely.