Waters of chaos have invaded all space. She scrambled for breath but couldn’t find traction below the bellowing crash of the ocean. The normally bright sea was now a deep, ominously dark trench that continued to suck her further and further into it’s haunting depths. Above the surface, a faint light shone through the murky waters, a blinking shimmer of hope that she couldn’t yet reach. Her struggles were in vain for she couldn’t break away from the current dragging her beneath the waves.
High in the sky, the clustering clouds grew ever in size, trembling with unnatural claps of thunder. Lightning split the sky in waves of brief but horrendously powerful surges. The very sky itself quaked under the massive burst of sound and light, shaking the heavens themselves.
Sinking further and further, the figure continued to vanish into the dark depths. Bubbles, nearly invisible in the wretched sea filtered to the surface, washing away quickly in the storm. A flash of lightning briefly lit up the sky, illuminating the twisting ocean below. More and more the storm continued to rage swallowing up the sky, eating the world.
Back down below, each and every second grew more and more panicked, lashing and thrashing around in terror. Her body began to weaken, growing further tired with each moment of thought-choking chaos. With less rational effort, her struggles began to cease.
With one last pitiful attempt to free herself of the current, she was finally swallowed totally and completely by the monstrous depths of the endless ocean. In her dying breath, the figure had a single thought.
“Who am I?”
As her life faded away, the scenery completely changed. Inside the thunderous storm clouds, the monstrosity that was each clap of thunder lapsed into silence. Each cloud disappeared, filling the sky with a mirror of the very ocean beneath it. Silence replaced the booming claps of thunder, the hellish noise gone from all sight.
Each instance of silence gave more foil to the once chaotic, drowning atmosphere. Within several seconds of the sudden shift in tone, the mood once again shifted its intent. A grey settled over the shining sun, clouding it behind a wall of static, horrendous sensations.
The scene grew in intensity, the ocean gaining a life of its own, morphing and contorting into several unique, virtually indescribable shapes of non-euclidean ideals. However amongst the raw and tainted experience, a simple peaceful note broke through the villainous sounds of static, fog horns, and growling, furious waves.
Off in the distance, a whale sung its song. Its call held one of supreme sorrow, a melancholic, deep tone. Below the sun, its form slowly, thunderously, made its presence known. Despite the chaos, the being continued on.
It sang it’s note sorrowfully, trudging across the sky. Forever it would sail, the lone flying whale among an endless ocean planet….
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Gilda was quickly learning how hard solid dirt was. With a thud her body thumped against the ground, slumping slightly with a snort. Small particles of dust filtered up from around her lax form, sparkling in the low light of the setting sun.
From somewhere behind her, a scratchy voice sighed resoundly, a note of veiled disappointment hidden within. Normally such a thing would have the proud griffin up in arms, firing off insults or threats at a near feverish pace. However, the events of the day had left Gilda somewhat drained of such uproarious attitude.
Pushing her limbs under her, Gilda strained, an action the griffin was not very used to. Intense workouts were not something she was unaccustomed to, but there was a certain level of punishment that this black dragon was giving to her which she had yet to experience.
Military combat was something she hadn’t as much practice with as some of the more zealous warmongers of her species.
“You lost focus.” The voice spoke indifferently, a peculiar lack of tone coloring the words. If the previous indications had been accurate, Cynder was none to impressed with her newfound allie’s performance.
“Yeah, I did.” Gilda shot back, equally colorless. Rolling back to her feet, Gilda kept her gaze trained onto the unforgiving ground she had become increasingly familiar with.
Cynder stared at the griffin with a slightly sympathetic eye, sensing the rolling storm beneath her surface. The griffin’s beak was a simple line across her face, unease coloring every muscle of her form.
“Listen, I can tell you’re stressed, but I’m trying to help you.” Gilda flinched slightly at the words.
“I know that. It doesn’t make it any easier!” Gilda’s voice came out in a rough tone, echoing around the trees slightly. The dragon didn’t budge a scale at the angry reply
“Then why do you not listen to me?” Cynder shook her head, a scowl approaching her features crossly. Likewise, Gilda stepped up to the challenge.
“I can take care of myself! You don’t need to lay into me like this!” The griffin reached a feverish pitch, the stresses of constantly losing affecting her mindset a bit more than she would’ve realized earlier.
Cynder grinned devilishly, eyes narrowing. Something about that sharp look was enough to send shivers down the normally aloof avian’s spine.
“Then show me.” The simple declaration hung in the air like a sheet of dust, swimming in between the two with an increasing air of tension. Gilda’s claws absentmindedly tapped against the unforgiving ground while at the same time Cynder’s tail bladed thudded into the dirt, carving around for a moment.
Moments passed between them, each action rendering the scene more and more ripe with unbridled pressure. Neither of the headstrong females were willing to budge, each waiting for the other to crack.
A tiny gust of wind ruffled between the griffin’s feathers easing her in the face of this mountain of scales. At last, her backbone straightened out, a serpent made of bones rising to the call. Now or never.
Quicker than she had ever moved before, Gilda flung herself forward, attempting to wrap her talons around her scaled adversary. Just as her claws were going to impact scale, a blur sped around her vision.
Suddenly, one of her legs was jerked out from under her. Expecting something of the sort, the griffin maneuvered her body around, slipping away from the almost painful pressure of Cynder’s tail. Unfortunately, while Gilda was right to expect this move, the dragon happened to be a step ahead of her.
Gilda’s slick movement had caused her balance on the opposite side become somewhat unstable, resulting in her opponent bring around a shoulder, bumping against her chest hard.
Feeling a flash of anger surge within her, Gilda pressed back against the shoulder with every ounce of her strength. A somewhat pained gasp came from the form against her and Gilda pressed harder. The tail around her ankle loosened its grip, and the griffin, feeling the tide shifting slightly, stepped to it.
Moving her clawed feet around rapidly, Gilda kicked the dragon’s tail away, shoving her away with renewed leverage. Spinning around and away from each other, the two parties skidded back several feet from one another.
Gilda, though breathing hard, couldn’t help but grin after finally gaining some ground on her seemingly unbeatable opponent. Cynder, on the other claw, while not winded, felt slightly impressed at the griffin’s unexpectedly grounded counter.
The scuffle had lasted scarcely over two seconds and despite that, Gilda had never felt a more exhilarating sense of combat. Her previous fights had been a contest of pure strength, and those stallions and griffins she had grappled with, those had been contests of strength.
This dragon across from her, while not large, moved so much faster and with such staggering force that could believably crack stone, had been pushed back a peg. Gilda had never felt more accomplished in her life.
“That was unexpected. I’m impressed.” Cynder’s voice took on a much darker note and her grinning teeth suddenly seemed much sharper. “Look out.”
Just as Gilda’s brow lifted, the dragon was in her face. Gasping lowly, the griffin doubled back narrowly avoiding being sliced by the blade rocketing past her face. Ducking on instinct, she avoided Cynder’s bonecrushing pounce. Not having a second to think, Gilda stepped to the side, jutting the side of her body into what she predicted would be the dragon’s path.
Her assumption was mostly accurate, and she was rewarded with a punishing blow to her side. Gritting her fangs at the heated sensation of claw rending flesh, Gilda spun back around fully. She caught the dragon mid roll, slipping a claw against her throat, breathing heavily. In the shade of the trees, Cynder’s scales blended together.
Cynder went perfectly still, eyes burning right through like a beam of light. Grinning maniacally, Gilda laughed as she kept her claws on the upper half of the dragon’s choker.
“Gotcha!” she exclaimed. Cynder raised a brow, moving for the first time in several seconds.
“Are you quite sure?” Cynder’s voice basically smirked, and Gilda felt a weird sinking feeling within the pit of her stomach. She nearly jumped out her skin when the dragon suddenly vanished, leaving the griffin on the cold grass once again.
A claw tapped her shoulder, and Gilda spun, wide eyed. Cynder’s face smirked down at her, relishing in her evident befuddlement. The griffin spluttered to herself, completely bewildered, eyes darting back to the spot where her target once laid.
“W-what the Hel!” The griffin’s amber eyes shrunk, an evident fear gripping her belly viscously. Cynder’s smirk grew sharper, emeralds narrowing in predatory glee. Despite, the almost threatening language her face portrayed, the dragon was merely amused.
“Don’t ask a magician their tricks.” Cynder shook her head, clicking her tongue in an almost motherly manner, a playful glint in her eyes. Gilda’s words failed her, simply letting her beak bounce up and down rhythmically.
Fluttering her wings, Gilda pushed back the anger building in her throat, settling on a confused stupor. Attempting to shake off her building curiosity, the griffin shakily got back to her talons. Glaring at the dragon with a sideways mix of confusion and anger, Gilda moved away from their battleground a bit, gazing into the trees.
“What was that?” The griffin turned quickly with a snarling expression. “Don’t lie to me! You’ve never done anything like that before.” Cynder balked a bit in the face of the sudden anger. However her expression quickly became guarded and tight.
“Nothing you should be concerned about.” It had become clear from the conversations they had shared, albeit short, that her kind were not like equestrian dragons, namely the lack of elements. The dragon hadn’t quite figured out how to drop that bombshell yet. Cursing herself for indulging her devious nature and revealing herself, Cynder fought back just as sternly. “Just a neat little trick I learned back home.”
Gilda apparently didn’t buy that, pointing a claw shakily at the dragon. “What you just did is something no dragon can do. Nothing can teleport except unicorns.” Cynder had to bite her tongue in explaining that she wasn’t quite teleporting, the griffin did raise a point. Even amongst other dragons, Shadow Walking was unnatural, a bending of firm natural laws.
“It’s unique, not something magical in nature.” Her loosely constructed explanation did nothing to quell the burning curiosity inside her feathered companion. With eyes narrowed heavily into slits and a tensing display of body language, Gilda made a quick vocal jab.
“Cut the act!” A suddenly ingenious idea flooded Gilda’s mind. She was going to make this dragon eat her words from that first meeting they had. “Let’s play a game, a game of riddles.” Gilda’s smirk deepened as she saw the flustered look enter the dragon’s muzzle.
“Are you really gonna throw those cards at me?” Cynder questioned with a raised brow.
“Yep, and you’re gonna reveal what you’re hiding in that, oh what did you call it, ‘rolling around in that head of yours.’”
Cynder rolled her eyes, biting down a retort and falling back to her haunches, scratching idly at the metal choker around her neck, the metal baring many new scuffs and marks. Her claws caught on the firm gauze still wrapped around much of her body and she stilled her talons. She dared not invoke the wrath of the eldest female in the household. That hen is scarier than Cynder would be willing to admit.
“Alright, I’m not gonna back down. Shoot.” Gilda’s smirk grew, a giddy feeling emerging in her gut. Baring a claw up to her chest dramatically, the griffin raised her head higher, perring down upon the near prone form of the dragoness.
“If you see a bird sitting on a branch, how do you get the branch without disturbing the bird?” Gilda watched the dragon’s eye twitch violently once, a stupid grin smacking upon the her muzzle.
“I’m gonna assume killing the bird counts as disturbing it.” Gilda was half tempted to slap that dumb grin off Cynder’s face.
“Yes.” The griffin’s deadpan caused the dragon to chuckle softly. Leaning back for the slightest of moments, the dragon took on an inquisitive stance, raising a talon and dragging it slowly along the underside of her chin.
Gilda wasn’t normally privy to her secretive companion’s thoughts, but for once in their relatively short time together, she had a vague idea of exactly what her draconic ally was thinking. Her mind seemed to be whirling around more outside of the box ideas, a mistake in which Gilda was well aware.
Cynder’s eyes closed for a brief moment, her gaze lingering somewhere behind a curtain of black. With a gasp, the dragon’s eyes snapped back open, a fiery answer burning off her tongue. “You take another branch!” Cynder’s grin became vicious at the stunned look on the griffin’s face.
“How did you…” she began to say, but then hesitated. “--Nah you were wrong.” Cynder’s triumphant smile faltered and she blinked rapidly for a second or two. Gilda had to truly hold in her laughter at the dragon’s expression, one of befuddlement and slight fury.
“That’s just plain out devious.” Cynder stated pointedly, turning her nose up at the hen. However her semi-hurt expression morphed quickly to one of a proud and impressed nature. “I like it.”
This reminded Gilda of Rainbow Dash in a way. She tried shoving the feeling aside before her heart began to ache. By Ghor she would not let that come back to haunt her. Not now.
“By the way what was the answer?” The black dragon queried curiously, tilting her head and raising a brow. Gilda pondered whether or not to tell her, eventually settling on getting it over with.
“Smoke.” The griffin stated simply, a monotone voice escaping her as the suppressed emotions for her old friend circled in her head. Cynder blinked, her face straightening in a moment.
“Damn. And here I thought I was onto something.” The dragoness kicked a loose twig idly away, clearing her throat. “Are you sure you want the answers to these questions? You may not like what you hear.” Cynder warned with a final shaky breath.
“If we’re gonna risk our lives, I need to be able to trust you. And you me.” The voice was stern, but not harsh, echoing the sentiment of the face of it’s bearer, a note of resounding seriousness in her golden eyes.
Cynder’s gaze found the griffin’s for several seconds, varying degrees of uncertainty and uncharacteristic nerves in the normally calm dragoness visage. Returning her look with a firm, but poignant demeanor of her own, Gilda shifted her weight, attempting to hide her discomfort.
Uncertainty emmenated from the dragon, making Gilda herself squirm in discomfort. That look made her wonder idly if she really wanted to know; however, she shot down that sentiment immediately. An icy breeze of wind suddenly blew by, making her shiver down to her bones.
“If you were to be told you were not alone in this universe, would you believe it?” Cynder’s expression morphed from shy uncertainty to a harsly pointed presence, echoing that question into the abruptly still clearing.
Gilda’s blood ran cold. Surely that’s not what she was implying?
A bitter laugh broke from the dragon’s throat. “It’s not exactly false, I’ll tell you that much,” Gilda was skeptical, but opted to at least let her companion explain herself. “The details aren’t important, at least not yet, but I don’t believe I come from here.”
The griffin cocked a brow, but otherwise remained silent. When the dragon didn’t continue, she motioned with a claw. Cynder closed her eyes and shook her head.
"I've never seen ponies before. I've never heard of Equestria before." Her eyes became somewhat glazed over, ignoring the skeptical brow raise from the griffin. Her next words were fumbled. "The dragon kingdom as it was called does not exist where I come from...."
Cynder became nervous, fumbling with her claws and averting her eyes. It seemed her next few words were not ones of proud confidence. Gilda felt her hackles raise and twitch in anxiety, something about the headstrong, stoic dragoness fumbling so hard made her immensely nervous.
“I control blacker forms of magic by my very nature. Namely, Shadow, Fear, Poison, and Wind.” Gilda became immensely uncomfortable at hearing such an admission. Had she befriended a witch, an alpha among sheep, or was that more of an omega?
Throat tight as a vice, she was helpless to stop the dragoness from emptying this torrent upon her, instead merely attempting not to quake at the implications of these confessions. Black magic, witchcraft, voodoo. Such terms were almost taboo among her kind. Gilda had always been told such activities always followed a much darker path.
“You’re a witch?” Gilda’s voice squeaked out, nearly inaudible. Cynder jolted violently, fear arcing across her spine. That wasn’t something she had been called in a long time, and regardless it sent a distressing crawl into her gut.
“No… It wasn’t my choice to be bound to such, it was forced upon me!” Her slightly panicked defense didn’t dissuade the griffin any less, only seeming to build the tense divide between them.
“You’re one of them.” Gilda’s tense, grim face made Cynder’s heart wrench violently. She hadn’t envisioned sharpeing such a line between them with this, only maybe scaring her a bit. However despite her best intentions, the griffin continued to back away steadily.
“Gilda please! I’m not going to hurt you!” The dragoness’s alarmed cry was filled with pain and insecurity. Cynder’s distressed voice garnered no remorse from the griffin, her head too clouded by fear and prejudice.
Somewhere within the confines of Gilda’s mind did a voice speak out in the dragoness’s defense, however it was massively overshadowed by firm social and familial warnings and all sorts of red flags being waved. Suddenly, the once mysterious dragoness seemed far, far more frightening and unnatural.
“I’m… I’m not evil, I swear.” Cynder curled her tail around herself, head drooping defensively as she noticed the building alarm in her friend, watching her eyes widen and her breathing quake. “I’m not evil….” The dragoness whispered to herself one last time, scarcely a whimper.
Had she been in her right mind, Gilda may have been moved by the deep showing of emotion from the normally guarded dragoness. Unfortunately, the walls of fear had completely encapsulated her.
Cynder grew increasingly nervous, the modicum of trust she had managed to work with the griffin causing her to fear the rejection harshly. The idea of being cast alone again made the dragon quiver, her heart skipping a beat at the idea of being rejected and tossed to the wind over her past, over who she was and what she had been.
A hyperphobic terror burst through her ribcage, bouncing around inside of her body and making her blood pump furiously. The judgment in those amber eyes stung, but the fear was like a red hot poker, sending jolts of agony into the scarred dragoness’s very soul.
Before the dragoness could bolt, Gilda’s voice rang out. “Explain.”
Relief flooded Cynder’s body, her voicing racing out to hopefully close the valley between them. “I was enslaved when I was just a hatchling, forced into a body not my own. The black magic is merely a side effect.” Her expression clouded for a moment, vacillation worming it’s way into her presence.
Gilda remained as stone-faced as before; however, a modicum of hesitation burned through her eyes. Her instincts still flashed all kinds of warning signs. Despite this, the wall had been somewhat shaken, allowing a distant amount of logic to burrow through.
“Show me. Show me what you just did.” Cynder was slightly surprised at the request, finding the requested demonstration hard to extrapolate. Nodding once, she scooted further into the shade. Giving one last uneasy look at her stoic companion, the dragoness morphed into shadow.
Gilda’s heart jumped violently, blood pouring through her veins like a drainage pipe. It wasn’t as though the dragon had vanished, no, it was more akin to a specter taking the place of the reptile. Her form remained, although it was one of solid darkness, a shadow cast that bore no resemblance of a living being.
The worst part was her eyes. A blackened sheet with a single emerald pinpoint in the very center. It bored into the griffin, making her feathers quiver in unnatural fear. As suddenly as it had started, it was over, and the dragoness resumed her previous appearance.
“I kept it from you…. It’s not very pleasant to look at.” Cynder’s eyes had yet to leave the ground. Gilda could still feel her pulse beating against her ribcage. Steadying her breathing, the griffin forced zen.
Plodding over to the forlorn dragon, she lay a shaking claw upon her shoulder. Cynder’s eyes snapped up to the griffin’s own amber ones, and Gilda was shocked to see them moist and red. The dragoness was struggling to hold back her tears.
Baring her heart and soul to those around her was never easy for one such as Cynder, as her burdens were deep. The scars laid upon her were numerous, and the weight of her crimes were not all free of her control. Malefor did not kill those guards, she did.
“This darkness… it follows me.” Cynder’s voice caught. “I’ve tried so many times to run away, but it always finds me.” Gilda was shook by the emotion in her words, her previous skepticism faltering in the wake of her companion’s agony. Cynder’s next words emerged as merely a whisper, nearly being carried away by the icy breeze. “Please don’t run.”
She never wanted this. It was so much easier to not care.
Gritting her teeth harshly, Gilda turned her eyes from the dragon, distancing herself from the agonized dragoness. “I’m not running and neither are you.” Cynder blinked in surprise, mouth working with no sound at the griffin’s cryptic wording.
Wrenching Cynder up with an audible grunt, Gilda plodded several feet away into the center of the clearing. Turning, the griffin eyed her opposite, who was still standing in the shade of the trees, eyeing her quizzically with curious emerald eyes.
“Fight me.”
Cynder cocked a brow, eyes once again solid and inconsolable. Her claws twitched in the dirt, her casted wings held taut behind her. Gilda, while no expert in the measures of draconic combat, could see the writing on the wall.
Muscles tensing, Gilda prepared for the inevitable rush from the dragon, knowing just how fast she could move. However with the added knowledged of her unusual magic, the griffin was thrown for a loop on what to expect.
The dragoness’s wings twitched almost imperceptibly and before Gilda could even interpret the motion, she was nearly blown over by a sudden gust of wind. It took nearly all of her wing force to avoid being knocked back, however during her momentary lapse of concentration she failed to account for the dragon that was already almost upon her. She was bowled over in an instant, the wind combined with the surprising weight of the dragon.
She flipped once, her wings smothered under the weight of both wind and scale. Feathers ruffling in the breeze, the griffin flopped hard against the ground. She spit out a foul stench upon her tongue.
Gilda, once again, tasted dirt.
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The way back home was uneventful. At least, at first. For upon their journey of several kilometers back from their training ground, such a walk on foot was quite the trek. However, despite the uneventful nature of the long walk home, the very foundation of said walk took them around that dreaded forest cloaked in black.
The Everfree.
Such a name before bore a simple ominous catch of wind; however, the advent of a much darker entity gave the woods a more dreadful feel. Particularly, for the dragon, whose very situation was a current result of that blackened brush. Bleak and cold, the forest called to her.
Gilda gave her companion a sidelong glance, noting the everpresent shivers racing across the dragon’s stiff muscles. Be it the result of the strangely icy wind or the forest itself Gilda could not decipher. The sun retained it’s perch above them, yet it offered no respite from the austere chilliness surrounding them.
The griffin could not remember where this sudden atmosphere had come from, but she had a feeling it emanated from the very woods beside them. Although she could not see the darkened trees as they hid below the hills beside her, she could feel its presence. Gilda could only imagine how Cynder felt right now.
A glance towards the dragoness gave her no indication of the fear living within Cynder’s soul. With every passing moment Gilda had an oddly growing need to see the forest, to peer into it’s hostile and unnatural depths. Cynder had spoken in cryptic riddles as to the nature of the being that had crippled her.
Gilda had no desire to meet it.
She became increasingly aware of the growing sensitivity to her environment, an odd feeling that she could not explain. Every blade of grasss tickled the underside of her talons, while each soft petal of a flower crumpled beneath her would ring out with the intensity of a siren. Gilda’s heart thumped inside her chest, blood furrowing it’s way through her body.
The sky seemed to darken, the sun clouded in murky dark grey clouds and the beautiful azure color of the sky morphed into one of a sickly dark green. Gilda felt like puking, the feeling rising suddenly and making her mind quiver in fear.
Although unbeknownst to her, the dragon to her right was having very, very similar troubles, her scales trembling under the weight of the buzzing. Oh that horrible buzzing, the endless, ceaseless buzzing.
Horror filtered into her blood, sinking deeper and deeper into the griffin’s bones. The tension rising, she doubted the unnatural situation could get more surreal. Her body crumpled under the weight of tolling bells and static, her stomach heaving over and over again.
Every sound echoing within her paralyzed mind was one of a monstrous, endlessly tolling bell. Gilda could hear very faintly in the distance another form falling to the earth, its body seizing and writhing in the dirt. Her mind attached a name to it, one that refused to come to her.
Her throat ached to scream, to fill the air with a guttering screech of terror, but each and every muscle in her throat was pulled so taut that barely a squeak filtered out. She could taste blood running down her scratchy throat, her teeth burrowing into her tongue.
Just as she thought the torture would never end, that her mind would be trapped in this endless paradoxical spiral, the wind halted, and her breath returned. Oh, and the air, it tasted so sweet as her lungs cried out in exhilaration.
Black spots filled the griffin’s vision, moving in and out of view as she lay there simply catching her breath. Each and every muscle throbbed as though she had run a marathon, an unnatural weariness in her bones.
Ringing. That was all she could hear. A distantly growing noise that drowned out all others. The bell was gone, instead replaced by a merely unpleasant buzz. This didn't last long, for it was replaced quickly by a groaning dragoness several feet away.
Gilda lifted her head with a moan, her neck cracking ominously. Vision still blurry, the griffin could scarcely make out the black form of Cynder, the dragoness’s body convulsing and writhing on the ground.
As more of Gilda’s senses returned, albeit in a disconnected and malfunctioning way, she was able to slowly drag herself over to the dragoness. The hen’s heart pumped weakly as she took note of the dragoness’s condition.
Cynder’s eyes and nose bled, a ruby river flowing from her orifices, glinting in the murky sunlight. The griffin, panicked and still in a slight state of shock herself, shook the dragon weakly, her voice squeaking out.
“Cynder… get… up.” The dragoness’s eyes didn’t move, ever focused on something thousands of miles away. With a winded gasp, the griffin fell back off her catatonic companion. With a groan of desperate anger, the hen stood shakily, plodding back over to the dragon. Gripping her gingerly around the waist, she pulled hard.
The dead weight of the dragoness made her nearly impossible to move in Gilda’s winded state, and she stumbled over with a low cry. Her heart throttled faster inside her ribs. Coughing weakly, Gilda flopped over onto her back.
Her eyes lazily traced the slow movements of murky green clouds, watching absentmindedly as they floated ahead. She didn’t know what to do.
Lucky for her, she didn’t have to do anything. A wet cough emerged from somewhere around her. Lifting her head with a grimace, Gilda was relieved to find Cynder moving over onto her stomach, blood still dripping from her closed eyes and pooled around her nostrils in dried crust.
The dragoness coughed once more, a spurt of ruby splattering against the ground. Unable to find the strength to move, the dragon fell down onto her back, breathing heaving out of her chest in gulps of precious air. She began to hyperventilate.
Gilda, with her vision still clustered by white splotches and black sheets, crawled over to her companion, grabbing for her weakly. The dragoness showed scarcely an indication of noticing Gilda, said hen gritting her teeth, splattered red with her own blood.
After almost a minute of gulping breaths did the dragoness begin to relax and calm herself. For the first time in nearly five minutes did Cynder’s eyes gain some clarity. When they finally found the griffin’s amber orbs, her own emerald one’s widened considerably.
Fumbling away from the concerned griffin, Cynder rolled away, unsteadily rising to her haunches. “Are you alright?” Cynder’s voice carried a wet gurgle underneath it.
Gilda wasn’t sure if she was. Fear and uncertainty still pumped through her veins, making her footing unsteady and her feathers quake. The events of just hours previous were still fresh in her mind and gave her pause.
Her thoughts entered dangerous territory, a place where baseless accusations were barely placated upon the tip of her tongue. It took much of willpower and an admittedly inexperienced grip on the values of friendship, but the griffin attempted to give the dragoness the benefit of the doubt.
“I think….I think so.” The griffin let out at length, voice audibly trembling. Cynder cast her a sympathetic glance, shakily getting to her feet. Groaning in pain, the dragoness mumbled lowly.
“Hasn’t been that strong before.” Gilda missed what she had said, but caught the underlying menace and unease in her words, albeit veiled.
Words failed the griffin, her throat closing up once more. Noises took back over her hearing, however it was no longer the chaotic buzzing of bells, moreover, it didn’t cause a thought debilitating migraine like before.
The noise dragged her away from reality, pulling her towards the edge of the hills, overlooking the everfree. She was hypnotized, unable to escape the pull of the eerie, sorrowful song. Completely away from her thoughts, the dragoness was likewise transfixed, trudging along, ignoring her ripped and strained muscles.
Each step was accented by a change in the note, it’s sonic signature bouncing up and down between sorrowful falsettos and throbbing, agonized baritones. Gilda inexplicably felt tears roll down her cheeks, staining her fur and feathers. The griffin’s heart boiled inside her chest, firm, steady thumps perfectly in sync with the enrapturing call.
With a last bound, the griffin stood upon the edge, her companion beside her. Stretching onward endlessly, the forest meandered in places, trees both as tall as mountains and stubby as stones rising from the vile, tainted earth below it. The dark below was inescapable, ever pulling the very fabric of reality further and further into it’s vile depths.
Dismal, gloomy green clouds hid the sun’s divine touch from claiming the woods, only shrouding them in a haze of stormy, violent shadows. Gilda felt cold, her body betrayed by the perversely abnormal trees and thicker beneath her talons.
However despite these terrible sights and feelings, her attention was solely focused elsewhere. Her eyes were wide, breathing coming in shallow gulps, taken by both the majestic divinity and horrid hellishness of the sight before her.
Painted in blue and black and cloaked in glyphs and runes, it hung in the air, moving like an arrow across the sky in low, sweeping motions. It’s form swept across the airspace above the forest, pulses of wind being blow against the brush below.
To her side, Cynder’s gasp went unheeded, for such a being deserved all eyes. The two shared the same thoughts, ones of untapped shame, and similarly large reservoirs of terror. The massive arrow of flesh cared not for their emotions.
It’s call rang out continuously, morphing the very air around the pair.
Suddenly all Gilda could fathom was the crushing waves, the ocean swallowing her beneath it’s majesty. Absentmindedly, her claws found her throat, choking on nothing.In her head, the waves swirled, smashing her against the massive ocean swell, sucking her underneath into the hellsih tombs below. Despite this, all she could see was its shape, calling to a species no longer there.
Cynder fell into her own head, devoured by the monstrous, looming clouds. Lightning surrounded her, yet she was blind, cut off from any feeling. All that remained was the roaring of the winds, with the ominously sorrowful call surpassing it in a landslide. The dragon clawed at her eyes, desperate to glimpse the world.
It’s thoughts consumed them, pressing the two closer in thought and speech. Their bodies remained separate, but for this brief moment would they be intertwined in mind and thought, forced to experience this being’s pain.
They both saw images of the earth, but ages after, an ocean of darkness, a sea of flesh. This was the future, the work of the monster in the dark, a world unable to overcome it’s pain. The parasite that leeches upon the planet, upon life, sentencing the earth to endless purgatory. This was the world to come.
The pair were not the only form of life, the beings of pure flesh and blood. What happened out in that forest morphed the arrow, the being in the sky, it’s cry perpetual and prophetical. Mother nature had spoken, giving birth to an entity entirely of her own design. It’s warning was clear.
As they were ever consumed by the beauty and horror of that being, of that flying whale, did their thoughts ring true, morphing into one of the same life. Unable to separate their own thoughts, they repeated the same words, over and over.
Anguish and fury, judiciousness and madness, the song was never-ending.
I can’t see, I can’t breathe.