Chapter Text
All he could do was run.
The increasing volume of the voices behind him heightened his fear and anxiety; the frightening sounds echoing with every word spoken from deep within their polished, slate bodies. They were deep, and frightening, their tones speaking only of savagery and hostility despite him not fully recognizing the Aerugan language.
The bullets nearly missed his bare feet as he struggled his way through the hills of sand. The sun had fled the sky long ago, so at least the stinging, grainy texture was not coupled with the burning heat that the day never ceased to bring. While the shrapnel did not bounce in the ground’s texture, the sand that was kicked up from every missed shot still served to hit his shins and calves; he knew that even if another bullet did hit him, he probably would not realize it because of it.
At the beginning of his flight, he held onto his small, still-bleeding forearm; though he quickly banished the thought and the instinctual need to put pressure on a wound in favor of swinging of his arms, serving to increase his sprinting speed, even if only somewhat. He felt his shallow breath come out in rapid, short puffs; his lungs burning with a muscle in his side stretched and sore.
In the darkness, though the desert was barren save for the occasional large rock, he began to notice structures buried deep within the sand. Initially, they had been few and far between, but now, he was beginning to notice them more often.
If the stories were true, and his memory served, perhaps this would be his ticket to freedom. While many factors hinged on his survival that night, he knew the old ruins of the forgotten Angarii would suffice in both providing him shelter and confusing those pursuing him.
Beginning to slow, his lungs squeezed within his chest, resulting in a wheeze. He turned his head to glance behind him, and upon seeing the large, jagged, dark shapes glinting in the moonlight, he quickened his pace. When he turned back to face the world ahead of him, however, his heart leapt.
As he ascended to the peak of a larger sand dune, he saw the ruins before him. He was sure that in the daytime the remains of the once-great city were eerie, yet bathed in darkness, they were absolutely haunting. All at once, it felt as if all of the souls of the lives lost there simultaneously turned their attention to him; suffocating. Perhaps he was the first person to see the city since it had been buried in ash thousands of years ago; though he doubted it.
However, he knew he was probably the first to delve into its caves and tombs. Heavy superstition was a fog that eternally rest upon the city; he was sure that, even if there had been visitors, none have been as close to the bodies that never quite decayed; frozen in time by the same ash that took their lives.
They, and the nasty spirits said to haunt them, did not bother him. He knew, if anything, they were the least of his worries; not only because the beings following him were the real threats, but Ishvala and his parents would be looking down unto him, guiding his actions and warding off anything else that may supernaturally attempt to reach him.
He led the ones following him through street after street; while he nearly tripped over the uneven stone slabs of the once-busy roads, he still successfully wound his way through every alley and open building his small body could fit into. Finally, once he heard their voices farther away than they had been, he slipped down into what seemed to be a caved-in tomb, the vacuous hole leading into what seemed to be an old tunnel.
While the tap of his small feet hitting the stone below him startled him momentarily, he soon realized that they were too far off to hear the noise. Hurriedly, he felt his way down the tunnel, his hand on the wall, feeling the roughness of the carved stone beneath his fingertips.
Feeling a soft gust of cold air from ahead of him, he figured that the way he was headed led back outside. With no food or water out this far in the desert, he did not plan to make this place his new home-- he figured he would simply wait until he was left alone before venturing out once again.
It, however, was not an opening to the outside-- or, at least, quite yet. The tunnel opened into a large cavern; manmade or not, he could not tell. One thing he did notice, however, was a small hole in the ceiling, from which a shred of moonlight shone through.
In the minimal, low light, it seemed as if he was in a building. The walls, while obviously decayed, were painted with different scenes of human interaction. In the middle of the room sat a table, decorated with beautiful objects and works of art. While they all had not been protected from the tests of time, even in their worn state, they were sights to behold.
His breath caught painfully in his chest when he heard a sound behind him. Spinning on his heels and nearly falling backwards onto the table, he saw the dark figures emerge from the tunnel he had shortly exited. They spoke lowly, and their speech was returned by a similar voice on the opposite side of the room-- somehow, they had not only followed him, but closed up both entrances.
He felt the tears he had during the beginning of his exodus quickly returning, and it felt as if a force had been placed on his chest, not allowing him to breathe. He sobbed, the pitiful sound silent without a breath to back it, as he glanced around the room in terror. There were no other exits he could easily see; just the art of a forgotten culture was left to witness his murder.
The figures advanced slowly, one large foot after another, as he sat helpless in the middle of the room, beneath the soft moonlight. He tried to whisper a prayer to Ishvala, but his mind could not form a thought.
It was then, a deafening sound boomed throughout the entire room, startling everyone inside. In his direct vision, all the boy could see was the figures flinching and cowering, looking beyond him, as a strange pain suddenly burst from the lower half of his body.
The last thing he saw was a flash of enormous, brown scales, before his vision darkened into nothingness.
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