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He knew he would get yelled at, but just floating along the river of lava running alongside the fortress felt nice. Lying there on his back just staring up at the ceiling of stalactites as sharp as knives. If he focused his mind would hear the sounds of other knights getting torn to bits and melt them together with the constant harmony of the place. Zenix never liked to have songs stuck in his head so having a permanent one that tried its best to sway him to Shad’s side was a personal hell.
Rocks tumbled into the lava with a pop and footsteps came to a rest near him. “Why do you always do this.”
“It’s relaxing, try it sometime and maybe you’ll stop knocking off so many heads the way you do.” Zenix rolled over and planted his face directly into the molten rock. Now that felt good.
He heard a small screech rip through the air before remembering that he sounds like that. His scalp hurt and he rubbed it. His new companion had pulled him out of the river by his hair and threw him onto the shore. Great, now his ass hurt too from the fall. “See this is why you don’t have friends anymore,” he whined in annoyance.
“Oh shut the hell up.” Zenix bit his tongue and waited with a scowl. “I could have sworn you said that a platoon was coming too close and you were going to clean them up, and here I find you falling asleep.”
He kept glaring before the other sighed and Zenix could finally get his voice, “I’m really starting to hate that new trick of yours.”
“Hurry up with your excuses already.”
“Yeah yeah. I actually did take care of them and lost an arm for it. You’re welcome.”
The other just crossed his arms and glanced up at the fortress without a word.
“I’m fine thanks for asking, love the concern you have for me, Laurance.”
“I don’t have any reason to be concerned about if you die or not, because you are a stubborn bastard and death doesn’t come easily to you.”
“It happened once and that’s the last time I’m letting it happen,” he retorted, “Not like you understand what death feels like though.”
Laurance narrowed his eyes and Zenix held still, it seems he was bitter about more than he’d let on. And his fellow knight had caught him.
“How did you die?”
“What?” The unexpected question threw him for a loop, “Why do you care?”
“Curiosity. Well, are you going to answer me or is that going to be just another thing I’ll never know about you?”
“I can’t answer you.”
“Why?”
The wind was whipping through his hair, and the grass beneath his feet crumbled to ash. Booming voices calling for one last search of the remains as he ducked behind useless walls and dove into dark patches far from the torchlight. She was smaller than him, the little runt trailing after him doing her best to stay quiet. She was always slower than him, crying when he could run away from her in seconds taking her favorite toy with a laugh.
That meant when she tripped and fell, she wasn’t fast enough to hide behind a fallen wall with him by the time the torchlight had landed on her. Her hair was always long and ridiculous, and the guard seemed to find it a great way to keep her from running away.
He didn’t like it when she cried, wincing at her loud wails. He didn’t like it when she stopped either, she was never quiet.
Twigs were the worst as well, always snapping whenever he stepped on them in the loudest way possible. He had to close his eyes at the bright and unfriendly glow of the torch that was directed at him.
The guard sounded like he hadn’t aged, a high-pitched sound that hurt more than his sister’s stupid voice. He didn’t like how he laughed, or how cold that steel was through his shirt.
He didn’t like the cold, the way it could seep into his skin when he sits in a dark and damp room made of stone.
So he made it warmer. It only needed a stray spark after all.
He shrugged off the sounds of his own voice, “I don’t remember.”
Laurance sighed, “You must be the only knight who doesn’t care about their past.”
He laughed, “Why should I?”