09-21-2015, 08:32 AM
Some say the world will end in fire,
The iron bars seem to be pressing closer and closer towards her, trapping her in an ever-shrinking box, but Cress knows that this is all in her imagination. In reality, the cell has not changed shape at all, but there is nothing rational in the golden girl’s mind. It doesn’t even register that her wound has mysteriously vanished, healed of its own accord, but maybe that was her healing powers subconsciously stitching it up. Maybe it was the monster that has trapped her here who healed her, preparing her for some new form of torture that needed her to be well and whole (at least physically). She doesn’t know. She doesn’t want to know. She just wants to go home.
some say in ice.
She glances around and sees that everyone else is still nearby; everyone else is still whole too, though most of them have pressed themselves into corners as she had, trying to escape whatever nightmare they have all been subjected to. What did they lose before being brought back to the cells? What did they have to go and face in the real world before he magicked them back to their cells? Cress doesn’t want to know. She doesn’t want to see someone else’s fears as well as her own; she doesn’t want to experience that ever again. No, no, no.
From what I’ve tasted of desire,
She chokes back a sob as she thinks of her parents, murdered and devoured by the shadow-monster that she knows is going to haunt her for the rest of her life until it can devour her too. She thinks of Demian and how he acted—how can she ever return to the Valley when he hates her so much? She is so lost in her misery that she barely notices when Carnage appears before her, the grey magician eying her maliciously. He tells her to pick, fire or ice, and she responds almost before she can wrap her head around the options.
I hold with those who favor…
“Fire,” she whispers, and there is fire in her bloodstream, pounding through her veins. She is the descendent of dragons; she remembers the fire Father used to create to entertain her. She shrieks in pain as her body is torn apart, a dragon emerging from within. It echoes the golden girl in terms of color, but is at least five times her size. It has golden scales and spikes running along its spine that are white-gold and talons that could cut through obsidian. Great, golden, leathery wings explode from the dragon’s back, unfurling as it stretches them with a terrible roar.
With a gasp she realizes that her body has reformed, pulled together by a magic much stronger than her simple heal. She should be dead but the magician wouldn’t let that happen; he wants her alive, to be tortured and, perhaps, to die under his command. She is pressed into the ground behind the terrible beast and her cell has disappeared; instead she is in an unfamiliar meadow and everything is ablaze. The fire blazes higher than should be possible, a monster inferno that reaches several hundred feet in height, smoke spreading like a cloud overhead. It is only a matter of time until the fires die and the so does she as the cloud of ash falls over her, suffocating her.
After a moment to take in her surroundings she stands, trying not to alert the dragon. The golden beast has moved several hundred feet away by now, fire bursting from its maw. It is feeding the flames, creating a barrier of fire that she will be unable to escape through. As terrified as she is, she admires the beast as the fire reflects in its scales, turning it more orange than gold. She should run while she can but it is already too late, there is a ring of fire circumventing the meadow and there’s no way for her to escape the flames without killing herself.
Maybe that’s what he wants.
The dragon turns towards her, a growl growing deep in its throat as it faces Cress. It roars then, a thin tongue of flame swirling in the mare’s direction, and Cress screams as it scorches her face in the same spot that the monster had touched her before. There is no avoiding the flames; they press into her from all sides and the dragon is in front of her, blocking off any (there aren’t any) route of escape she could possibly take. “Kill me,” she whispers and she means it, she wants to die. She wants the flesh ripped from her bones and her entrails scattered across the dungeon floor. The magician should just kill her.
“That would be too easy,” comes the smooth voice, echoing all around her. “I’m going to destroy you first, Cress.”
With a shriek the dragon opens its mouth again, and Cress can see the flames building in its throat. As quickly as she can, she creates a barrier of healing, but Carnage rips it down almost before she can set it up—it was futile, but she had to try. The flames grow in the dragon’s throat until they’re all Cress can see and then they engulf her. Dragon fire burns away all the flesh from her skull and Cress would scream if she still had vocal chords, but she can’t move, can’t scream, can’t die. Soon all that is left is bones and charred flesh.
“Heal yourself,” he orders and she tries, she tries to create muscle and tendons and skin out of nothing. Skin slowly stretches over her bones and she restores the muscle all over her body; the tendons come next and she pants, wondering if she has the energy to complete the process. She starts from her hindquarters and works her way up and slowly she is healed, but she cannot make the fur regrow and she cannot restore the tail that used to be beautiful. She manages to heal herself up to her eyes and her sight and hearing is restored, but she cannot regrow her ears; they just won’t come back. She has healed herself but left herself with scars at the same time; all but her forehead is covered again in skin, and maybe that will heal on its own with time—maybe it won’t. Perhaps her skull will always be exposed, another reminder that she survived what should have killed her many times over.
The lack of ears, though, is the worst part. Can she hear? Sure. Is she hideously scarred for the rest of her life? Yeah.
While she had healed herself, the dragon had been circling above her, roaring ferociously. Now that she has finished it moves into a dive, heading right for Cress, and she braces herself to be eaten whole. Is that why she was healed? So that she could be eaten alive by the dragon that he created? The fires keep her rooted in place and she knows that she is about to die, but she would rather be dinner than sacrifice herself to the flames once more.
The dragon roars again just seconds before collision and Cress cannot force her eyes to close as it draws nearer. It doesn’t open its mouth to eat her but instead pierces her straight through her heart, and she screams again as the dragon makes its home in her chest. Her entire chest cavity feels as though it is burning but she knows that it will pass as the dragon grows comfortable inside of her.
“Why?” she chokes out, not expecting an answer. That would be too much.
“Because,” he replies only seconds later, “the dragon was inside of you the whole time, my pet. I only woke her up.” She can see the bars of her cell as the meadow fades away, and the outline of the magician standing just outside of it. “You should be grateful,” he tells her and she can see that he is enjoying this, enjoying her torment as he enjoys the others’ torment. “I cleansed you and you remade yourself.” He knows that this will not make her stronger, only unstable and delicate, but still he tries to convince her that he was helping, remaking her, remolding her into something of his own creation.
With a groan she realizes that she is still burning, and she glances down to her chest. She is the descendant of dragons and he seems to want her to remember it, remember it for the rest of her life, and fear it as long as she may live. There, on her chest, is the blackened outline of the dragon that remade her, and it is the only thing she sees as her vision goes blurry. What has he done?
you’re only happy when you’re making a scene