ViperTheWriter
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Twilight blinked, clinging tenaciously to consciousness, and was disturbed by the way color seemed to leech from his surroundings—swathes of greens, blues, and twilit golds spilling away like sand through an hourglass. He blinked, imagining he could still feel the metallic slide of the Iron Knuckle’s battle axe, the buttery-smooth way with which it parted his skin. He blinked… and was overtaken by a gray shroud.
Fog thickened the air, a wispy, humid cascade that swelled from the ground like sweat from a waking beast. Twilight startled upright and drew his sword, gritting his teeth in anticipation of pain, but none came. After waiting several tense seconds to make sure he wasn’t about to be attacked, he glanced down and saw that his tunic was intact. Slipping his waist guard aside and lifting his undershirt revealed healthy skin.
Yet the words drifted by once more—an echo dissipating as it stretched. His wound isn’t healing.
Bookmarked by ViperTheWriter
28 Dec 2022