"A Gust of Wind Swept across His Throat"
Spike’s right arm began to shake underneath the pressure forced upon it by the golden empty hand, pushing ever downward on the drake inch by inch, until the rest of his body too began to tremble. His vision was swept by the haze as the golden helmet came closer, yet seemed so much farther away.
Despite the empty black pools that were the suit of armor’s eyes, its gaze still felt like it passed the dragon’s scales to whatever it was they held behind it. Shifting past the endless streams that comprised the drake’s subconscious, searching for the thing hidden underneath the waters that manipulated the current.
Using whatever energy still left in his reserve tanks, the drake took a chance in bringing his other leg forth to kick the plated shins. It worked, as the iron grip ceased, and the armor began to fall onto the dragon.
Spike flew into the thing with his shoulder, ignoring the pain brought on by the action as he pushed it back, where it then fell onto its back. Taking a moment to catch his breath and retreat a few steps, he looked for another way to take.
The stone tower still blocked most of the room, its smallest parts still too big for the drake to scale, and the door to the throne to heavy for him even to dare open with the immediate threat behind his back.
Said immediate danger was rising from the floor without even the shake of the head, as its hand retrieved the sword impaled into metallic grounds where it once stood and came once more at the dragon with a swing of the blade.
Spike swayed left just as the blade came to meet the spines atop his head, swinging over to the left of the armor, where he again attempted to knock the thing down with his shoulder. All he got in response was a cry leaving his lips, and the helmet sliding clockwise to gaze once more into the drake.
It then thrusted its shoulder into the dragon, who shot into the tower that was just behind his back. The rest of the armor moved in correlation to its head, as the sword was brought out upwards to absorb the sun’s light, and prepared to slice through both stones and scales.
Spike’s body had depleted the rest of the energy he had stored, in too much pain even to speak a word, as his eyes drifted to a shut and his head leaned against the stone, exposing the crook of his neck to the descending sword that would soon spill his blood.
A gust of wind swept across his throat, and that was it.
When his emerald eyes crack open, they saw the suit of armor staring back into them, with its hands and the sword clenched in one of them hanging by its side. It didn’t speak of a malicious aura, but of a chance understanding, as it turned around to return to its post.
Spike pushed off from the wall and stepped after the armor, who went back to its stance. A blue aurora trailed out from the dark confines of the suit into the lit room, wisping itself into words before the drake’s eyes, before dissipating into the beams of light like dust.
The drake held a claw to his chest to repress the beatings of his heart, falling back once more onto the stone as he had gone weak in the legs. Everything around him began to grow familiar like they were all things he had once seen a dream that we were now vaguely remembering.
When the shaking in his legs finally began to cease, the dragon placed his weight upon them once more, as he passed through the opening. More and more suits of armors lined against the walls with poses that suggest the natures of their masters, though not one of them looked at the throne without a notion of respect.
The drake began to approach the said throne in a trance, unable to comprehend the helmets that began to follow his every step, as he ascended the carpeted steps leading to the throne. His legs begged in agony for him to take a seat while his mind demanded he close his eyes for a while, but he was too focused on the thing standing next to the throne.
It was a pedestrial with a purple cushion laid atop it, covered in dust only illuminated further by the array of beams of light from the massive windows behind it. Glass laid shattered below it, once being a chamber to keep whatever laid on the cushion pristine.
It looked to be the perfect place for the mother and father to keep a constant watch over their egg, as they ruled over their kingdom from the seat of their throne. Spike merely blinked at that thought, too tired to fully process his feelings on the matter, as he took a seat upon the throne.
It was solid against his back, and the seat itself almost froze his bottom, but it was immensely better than standing up. The hamlets stared at the intruder sitting where their king once sat, without and respect to him, yet without hatred as well.
The drake heaved a heavy breath as he felt his eyelids drift to a close, but not before muttering the words the blue aurora had spelled out for him.
"Welcome Home...I wonder what it meant by that?"