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Her chest hurt.
That was essentially the only thought in her head. Her chest hurt. Every breath felt like shards of glass dug into her lungs. It wasn't a complicated feeling to understand. There was no need to understand it further than the fact it hurt.
She couldn't afford to get up. It simply hurt too much. The force of the blow had thrown her like a ragdoll, landing into this borderline freezing cold ground.
It stung against her exposed muscles. The cold, the pain. It felt like laying in snow. Except she had never done so before. There was no snow in the tribe.
But that was the only comparison that crossed her mind. A snow that burned, that pierced. That did not let you get up. That drowned everything in silence.
Nothing but her own ragged breaths made noise. It had taken only one second after the strike for silence to drown everything.
At least she was still thinking. So this isn't Hell. She's not dead if she's still thinking. If her brain still works through the pain - at least she still isn't done for.
She coughed. Once, twice - white smoke leaving her definitely damaged lungs, the action hardly even lifting the drowning sensation from her lungs. Her eyes finally broke open, for a moment almost blinded by the endless whiteness of this realm.
…forget what was said about Hell. This was definitely the closest thing to it anyone could find themselves upon.
Lychee Dragon had uttered something about it. This must be what they had called the Pale Expanse. Rambutan didn't even have to try to move to know what awaited her - moreso, what didn't await her.
The pain was the only thing keeping her from slipping away. It hurt too much. Were she to pass out right now, chances were she wouldn't wake up. She was lucky she had survived.
The Lotus Scale Armor rested cracked in her chest. Most of it had been essentially blown away, the chestpiece barely standing. Few scales clung to its remains, in one last show of defiance against the Ivory Dragon.
What happened to those who died here?
…A fate in stone was the most likely outcome for death within this realm.
She couldn't die here. No, no. She had to return, she had to reach the others. She couldn't rest until she knew they were all okay, could she? What kind of tribe leader is the one that says down and accepts her fate?
And yet, she knew there was no getting back up this time.
The eyeball had been smashed. Pierced through with her spear. Her plan had worked. So what was there to be done now, except pray the results were the ones desired?
Except wait for death in this realm?
Her fingers were growing numb. No, not numb. If they had been doing so, she wouldn't feel the stone creeping into her fingers, millimeter by millimeter. They weren't growing numb. They were growing into solid stone.
She would have perhaps shed a tear if she could. Was it dehydration that made her lips feel chapped, her throat sore and her eyes dry? Or was it merely the emotional exhaustion, having become physical?
So selfish. Focused on herself. On how she feels, how she is like right now, rather than on how the others might be.
But, well. If she was gonna die. Let her death be her own. Hers alone to rejoice on. After all, the catalyst to this hadn't even been for her personal gain - it had been for everyone's.
Or had it been? Had it been anything more than a selfish pursuit to recover something, a friend that had never existed?
Was it as selfless as everyone claimed it was, if all was done with that Dragon in the back of her mind?
So selfish. It all circles back to her foolish projection. Her actions had derouted, become something she did looking forwards to her own “happily ever after”. One that would never come, of course.
She had seen what Longan had done to the Purple One. The look of terror in the younger Dragon's face, as those strings burnt through their scales. The smell of burnt flesh as they had tried to fight back.
Because they had, for once, fought back. Against the Ivory Dragon's gaze, against their power. They had, for once, been on the right side.
And that had costed both everything.
Perhaps the path to atonement was one Lychee would have to walk alone. Rambutan didn't think she could get up anymore. Physically, she couldn't. She could feel her body getting cold, stone painfully slowly taking place. In her fingers, in the tips of her hair.
Probably her spear was becoming a chunk of white stone as well.
Mentally, her mind was in a loop of memories and thoughts that circled back to her own desires and needs. Everytime she tried to think about the other's safety, to get up and try to get to them, said thoughts were inmediately derailed by pain.
By a painfully wish to not die.
Not for the others, but for herself.
Not even death was hers here. That's when it struck. This place was perhaps worse than Hell could ever be. At least down there, the legends of their tribe said the souls of those who had been wicked could purge themselves through suffering.
Here, suffering wasn't to purge evil.
It was that. Just plain suffering.
A slow, cold fate in stone. Eternal. But simple as that. This realm was the worst fate a mere mortal could find themselves upon.
No wonder Lychee seemed terrified of even the mention of this place.
She would go through that again if it meant nobody else got trapped here.
She would take all the ribcage-crushing blows necessary to keep others from meeting the same fate she had bound herself to meet.
This death wasn't her own. Like everything, it was for the sake of others. In the end, even if the motivation was selfish to the core, the actions had lead to the benefit of her friends.
Of the other Dragons, who were all trapped in a labyrinth of illusions.
Of the other Cookies, who pray the witches were still alive in whatever place of the Dark Realm they had been sent upon.
Of Lychee.
She had seen the look in their face when looking at her. It was a disgusting concoction of anger, regret, sadness and questioning.
Anger for being protected, perhaps? Their pride didn't let them accept help from others. That was something they were similar in.
Regret for not acting sooner. For being blinded by deceit until the moment the golden, burning threads cut through their scales and flesh. That makes two similarities.
Sadness for… many reasons. They both had many things to be sad or resentful for. They shared that perpetual sadness, disguised behind their personalities and intentions.
And questioning. Rambutan could swear a brow had been raised when she had struck the eyeball. For a split second, the Purple Dragon had questioned.
Questioned everything.
Even in the face of pain, for a second, a glimpse of their interior had been shown. In just a glance, Rambutan now knew they weren't a lost cause.
Usually that would have been enough to bring her happiness.
Now her mind could only focus on the aftermath of it.
Was Lychee even alive anymore? If she had seen it, the One who Sees It All definitely saw it as well. It was an unforgivable transgression.
Perhaps they had done what they had done to the other Dragons. Isolated the younger one in a realm of illusions. Dehumanized what little humanity they had left, stripped them away of anything but their instincts.
The fact the Dragon retained its humanity didn't bring a smile to her face. But the fact said humanity wouldn't be nothing but their doom didn't make her cry, either.
This was worse than Hell.
A place where emotions no longer existed.
Or perhaps it was how death was supposed to feel?
Being on the verge of it always felt like being flooded by emotions. Adrenaline, anger, despair. But being with a foot in her tomb didn't feel like walking to it.
Or maybe this, too, was the Ivory Dragon’s doing. Now with the armor broken into hardly a shoulder pad and loose scales, they probably could get into her mind.
—...You think so?
A voice broke through the silence. Rambutan didn't even move. She had been laying there for too long to actually care about who could be there.
Though her fingers barely twitched, as hardened fingertips felt for her spear. It had fallen close to her.
—...hah. So you ARE alive… I think.
That voice.
…So her plans had not worked out well in the end.
Longan had also gotten to them. There had been no isolation as a means to break them.
—Not a word spared to little ol’ me…? I would be offended if I could!
Her throat felt too dry to speak. Perhaps the dust of this place had gotten to her vocal chords, silenced them long ago.
—...fine. Be a dead weight if you must! I… no. WE are getting out of here!
For a second, pain shot through her body. Before her eyes could focus again, the purple blur that had appeared had already become recognizable.
Or well. As recognizable as possible.
Straddling her waist, Lychee sat. Burnt, injured, but still alive. A faint hint of their insignia grin remained - a grin of relief more than anything.
A clawed hand shook its way to her cheek. The warmth hurt. It was a warmth that wouldn't last for long in this place of negative temperatures. Rambutan knew the Dragon was cold blooded. Sharing their heat with her like that…
—You’re cold. Too cold… this place is colder than snow.
Rambutan did not respond. Her eyes were the only thing that moved slightly. Blinking slowly, they made eye contact for a split second.
Her gaze was dead. Eyes slowly going white, as life seemed to struggle to keep its grip on her body.
Their gaze was hurt. Hurt beyond repair. An anguish she had never seen before in their expression etched in those pupils, that had thinned to hardly lines.
But they kept on trying to look nonchalant. On trying to pass it off as nothing but an inconvenience.
—And I thought I was the… the cold blooded one here, hah. Look at you, at the way you absolutely smashed through that eyeball!
The Dragon's clawed thumb rubbed off some of this white dust from her cheek. The injured fingers left behind a small trail of blood where they touched.
Probably injured from clawing their way out of Longan's spell, judging by the sligh smell of burnt flesh.
—...Longan ain't happy with that. With neither of us, really.
Their tone had changed. From a faux nonchalance, to a bitterness that was no longer concealed. The Dragon's body slumped forward slightly as they spoke, breaking eye contact.
And that's when Rambutan noticed.
Their wings.
Or well. Lack of them.
For a moment, she opened her mouth to speak. But no words came out. Even if she could, asking would go nowhere.
It wasn't the physical injury that was hurting the Dragon that much. It was betrayal.
The same expression in their eyes that she herself had once held on her own. That of being backstabbed, hurt by the ones barriers had been lowered when around.
Perhaps the betrayal Lychee had undergone was different to hers. Perhaps it wasn't. But for a moment, a hint of strength reached Rambutan - numbed fingers twitching in an attempt to hold the hand that had settled upon her cheek.
—h-HEY! Don't move, fool! You're only gonna damage yourself further! Can't… can't make it out of here alive with you killing yourself!
For a faint moment, desperation reached Lychee's features as their hand moved to grasp her own. To hold the injured, slowly petrified fingers in a way that wouldn't accelerate such a grueling process.
Silence fell as their claws interlocked with the stone. An instinctual move, perhaps - to grasp into anyone that brought you even the faintest of comforts.
—Unless you have a death wish… which you look like you already have… lay still, okay? Don't crumble on m- DAMMIT!
They got off her, horror in their face. That prompted Rambutan to tilt her head to the side. To locate the source of their sudden fear.
—Oh, OH WITCHES!! LONGAN, YOU… YOU… DRIED, WRINKLY LIZARDLY SCUM!!
The tribe leader's fingers had simply given out. The tips were already beginning to crack - they had probably begun to do so when she had reached out for her spear.
—H-hang on there, ‘kay? We ARE BOTH getting out of here!! Isn't that what you wanted?! For both of us to live and- and-
They were beginning to stutter. Perhaps the weight of everything had finally caught up to them.
The pain of Rambutan’s injuries, and those of their own. The consequences of their actions, of someone else's actions. Everything at once.
It didn't matter how calm and silent the Pale Expanse was. All that seemed to fill them was the urge to scream into the void. To curse Longan in every language possible, even those that only animals and creatures understood.
—Yes, we, and I mean WE are getting out! There… there was a way out of the Expanse!! I'll have to remember it, but… but it exists! A-hah… yeah it… it does!
They got off her body, standing at their (now even shorter) height. The tapping of hooves as they walked around didn't echo - as there were no walls it could bounce off from.
Rambutan couldn't be bothered to move or to get up. Too much effort was being actively put onto staying awake. Onto not dying.
Because she didn't want to die. She didn't want to die a death that wasn't even hers to have. She didn't want to die in front of them. She didn't want to go by the claws of the Ivory Dragon.
Death was the only thing they wouldn't take from her. The pain of death was hers to take alone - just as the happiness of the Tribe was hers to feel as her own.
And her death didn't belong in this endless plain of white and silence.
—We will get out… get out, get out and make our Paradise! Didn't you say you wanted to make everyone happy? Well, now we can!! We can be happy once we leave, Rambutan!!
Claws made their way under her armpits. If they had been a normal person, they wouldn't have been able to lift the dead weight of muscles and shattered armor.
Sometimes Rambutan forgot how strong Lychee truly was.
They struggled to keep a grip on her without tearing her flesh away with those claws. They struggled for their legs to work - tail definitely being used as a support right now, after millennia of flying and hovering their way through what would usually require walking.
But she could feel herself lifted effortlessly besides that. A dead weight she had become - probably close in weight to their scythe, which they sported so effortlessly sometimes.
—I… I'll get a nice pair of wings! Made of stone, the finest one! Stone, stone to protect! They will hurt and use me no more!! You can stay by my side!! Together, we'll take… take revenge!!
They spoke of revenge. But they included her in those plans. The Dragon's pride had been kicked down, beaten out of their scales and fur - reduced but nothing but a mess that tried to act normally, but could only utter pleas.
To a mess that craved to be wanted. Desired. Even if it was simply for the sake of vengeance, of getting rid of the curtain of lies that had suffocated them for so long.
—I promise I'll change! Just… SAY SOMETHING, DAMMIT!! I DON'T LIKE TALKING TO THE LIVING DEAD!!
She wasn't dropped. Surprisingly, it was like that was the push the Dragon needed to start dragging her body - spite, was it? Spite for everything Longan had caused?
—WE’LL FIX THINGS, I SWEAR!! WE WILL BREAK TOGETHER THE ILLUSIONS OF THE WHITE DRAGON!! JUST SAY ANYTHING, FOR CRUMB'S SAKE!!
She didn't need to look to sense the other's desperation. She couldn't have looked even if she wanted to. Her neck wasn't responding properly enough to keep her head up.
It was a miracle she could even hold her spear, dragging it alongside her numb body.
No. It was no miracle. It was the will to live - reignited by the one who not long ago had done everything to take it away from her.
—...Lychee.
Words finally broke out. A simple, faint name calling. It sounded like a whisper, one more white noise in this endless, illusory silence.
But the Dragon had sensitive hearing.
—...You called! You… you are still there!
—...I… am.
—You are functional! I- I can't believe that! I thought I-
—...that you lost me?
Lychee fell silent. While the movement didn't stop, any potential replies were trapped away in the depths of their reptile throat - nothing to say against the objective truth.
Rambutan was indeed feeling alive now. Not just alive physically. It wasn't only the sensation of her weak heartbeat, of her dry breathing.
It was her mind working once again.
…that explains why this place was so alone.
Longan needed their victims to be isolated. To be alone before breaking them - to have no help.
—...But we are together now, aren't we? Even if… even if it hurts my pride.
They had essentially read her thoughts. The two had always been bound to be together in a way - it didn't have to be the lovesick devotion the Dragon aimed for originally. But it didn't have to be the endless conflict they had made it out to be.
As long as they put their prides and egos away, and accepted each other as they were - perhaps they existed to fulfill each other.
Or perhaps that was too much to infer from such an awkward situation.
The one overseeing their conversation wasn't precisely fond of this newly restored bond.
Just as they had lost fondness for Lychee - they now grew outright hateful towards them both.
They'd have to do more than this.