3 Viridity

It hurts to breath. To speak. To look. To hear.

Dousing in and out of slumber i groan every once in a while when i heed a man speak. His grainy, needlessly angry declaims reverberates my sleep. I didn't ask to be so ruthlessly disturbed, this was a torture.

"He is my son, orphan or not. I foster these kids"

That's imminently good for him, but why he seem to be alleging it so close to me- in a vicinity near my ear was a mystery.

"We understand sir, but we need to wake him so that we could see to his injuries"

I groan again, if only I could swing my fist and mock them up. If only I could make them submit in silence like the dragon that-

Then it crashes upon me. Block by block, bit by bit until I was buried under a mountain of rubble from which I had no means to get out of. It was too dark to even see where on the phase I stood.

It was hazy as I opened my eyes, my breaths coming out short - I lean to my right on what seemed to be a neat, smooth bed and clutched my other side with a hissing wonder of simply how broken it was. When my vision gets legible enough, I crane my neck to discover two guards stationed at the door and one, an older one next to the bed.

But briefest to me was Caelum, staring at me with diligence, the kind a beggar would give to a pot of gold.

"Dorin" I whisper, feeling the layer of dried blood on my lips, blinking in fatigue- thanking the lords for the dimness in the room as it soothes an ache in my head.

"Your brother happens to be fine little Timo" from the corner I saw the subtle flare of Caelums nostril, he had his back turned to the officers and with such advantage, the lines on his face dared me to deny.

And hence, Dorin became my beloved bother this night.

"Where is he thoug-" my sentence jumbled into a fit of cough. Caelum supported my shoulder and offered me a glass of water, when he bring it to my lips- I glare at him.

His demeanour barely melted as he hugged me, my nose got buried in his chest.

"I can't be more grateful to the lord for sparing my children's life. I love you all so much- you do happen to know that's true don't you?" His words are vibrating lies as I wiggle through the embrace and sniffed, my eyes traitorously tears at the strong fragrance on his clothes.

He glares again and I strike a nod. To anyone in witness, it might appear that I was overwhelmed by the love being drizzled upon me, but someone needs to unearth Caelums cologne and bury them by a mile.

"Officer" Caelum addressed, I hear a shuffle as the man in question diverted his attention from surveying the display of affection, with an eye so tight - he looked like a wounded vulture "If it's in your authority, please let me have a moment with my son- you can help him as soon as I make him aware of the situation"

The officer doesn't budge. He wore the civil green uniform- a local. Not a warrior or an Armin. I still can escape this nuisance. I have to find Dorin.

"He is a kid, officer" something seems to swirl in him, a strict nod is what he gives as he flicks his wrist to check for time.

"Ten minutes"

"Not a second more"

And then he was gone. The clock of his boots fades as the door slammed shut, and like that- there was the Caelum I was well acquainted with. He sat in a chair, scooting in near as he confided ruggedly.

"I have provided them with made-up proof about having adopted you all, we play this role thoroughly to survive unless you want to die by tonight and take Dorin to the grave with you" he whispers harshly looking over his shoulder twice and holding onto mine. He studied me with a slight shake as I nod. His hold goes lax as he exhales. "This is the best identity I could provide you both for now"

"You knew we would be here" I accuse.

"I knew Castle aspired to attempt the trials" he overrules as I grit my teeth in frustration.

"You are using us" it was a war to see who looked away first, but none did. He- may I be wrong- sludged with rare honesty.

"We are using ourselves because my kingdom won't allow us to enter unless we have completed our esteemed mission" he shrugs as I tensed.

"What kind of a heartless kingdom would abandon their people in such peril?" At that his lips curls into a solid grin.

"A kingdom more powerful and divine than Antar" in that second I realised my mistake, but he was there to remind me "My people bet for our success, isn't that better than to be deserted in the North?"

A silence acquires. We both seem to know there wasn't a morsel of options left to consider. He purchased the ten minutes to give me the last of comfort before I get thrust into a new world.

"I thought it was Dorin" it wasn't a secret though. He suspected himself too. "It's a surprise" he was evaluated, but to what reason, I cannot prospect. I could hardly keep my eyes open. I bite my lips yearning for some strength to keep listening to this man. I can't deny that he is the only person that can help us evade the threats that might come our way.

"What was that?" He asks.

"What was what?" I grunt, despising how he used my weakness to dominate a narrative.

"How did you command a dragon? A forbidden instigator" he leans suppressing his tone, but the vigorousness of it remained.

I held his desperate gaze, my heart a coward, my mind- clueless. And then I conveniently marred into the childish and afraid girl who feared if the old man would scold her for not chopping enough woods for the fire. I don't know what happen, or why it happened. I sought to be free of his observing gaze and stifling queries.

"Please take me with you" I beg, my toes curls with shame but I cannot do this alone. "Hide me, take me, use my learnings. I will do anything that would benefit us to get out from this mess. Please help me"

Me.

Not us.

Not after I had lucidly and unknowingly put Dorin and Castles lives in danger by entering the arena. I was so selfish at the moment- but I knew they would survive. There was something in Caelums gaze that concluded that what I believed wasn't a reality.

His posture relaxed as I sat straighter, my ears perked in themselves as if to listen.

"No one had a dragon as an instigator in founds history so far" the revelation nails me in a coffin, he looked tired, his clothes were a craft of wrinkle and his red hair shone with grease and hung overgrown "It's called a forbidden one because though it existed in the base every year, no one ever truly had the ability to be its contender"

"I am not-" I clear my slick throat,

"You don't know what you are" he smacks away my futile denial. "Or you take me for a fool and are hiding the things you know that's makes you"

Things I know.

The one by means I vision the snippets of future in my dreams on certain nights or the one where I was spared by a monster in an iced river? But none of it has my command or control, it carried me. Like a hallucination to this day. Until today I made a dragon kneel.

"Instigators don't surrender, not even to their Sarkim" Caelum threads his words lighter than before, when I look at him I saw the shadow of fear and reverence play his features. The stark emotions, on whole a reason of mine and my presence. "An instigator is only obedient to its Master, the one it is a companion to. To them, their nourisher is their king, their God- and you made one of them-

He eats the end of it and lets the chaos in me work in silence for a generous minute.

"You have to be clever with what you say Timo, I will be in the course if a journey takes place. They are going to be on their heels to dissect your abilities, past and prospects. The only way we could pull this heist is if we don't get caught. Weave through inspections if it can create doubts and-

Numb to his advice I sensed wetness on my cheek and it trails to my jaw. Diverting my sheer focus at the stone grey wall, aware of his gaze that remained passive on me even when he was done speaking. As if waiting for me to officially accept his offer. Oddly it wasn't something that I had in mind, because the one last question it housed was supposed to be a diversion from the stress that weighed on my being.

I wanted to know whose authority had I stolen.

"The dragon, who did it belong to?"

His response is slower than the panic that clawed my insides when his face contorted into an afflicted grimace. If I thought that it was cold that settled in my chest before the revelation-

"It belongs to the sovereign, Prince Julian Ezdan"

It nefariously froze the moment after.

***

We were on Keld's army base, an underground sector where the listed and recently sanctioned fighters sheltered in. Or as per what I was informed. As for my stay, Loss of blood was permitted as a reason, apparently, I fainted even before the guards could direct me to the infirmary. I was appointed a solo room, which I had earlier failed to notice- was five times the size of the one in the inn. A fresh stack of clothes was delivered and I was asked to take a bath in an adjacent comfort room.

Fortunately, a lengthy mounted mirror was stationed, crystal enough to ridicule my appearance. Dirty, grimy and swollen. The gashes were more severe than a little cut, I limped with my good leg to the ground, cradling my wrist in other. The asphalt was hard, in this expanse of the grey closet- I was a steak of pink, red and purple. My eyes were bloodshot and my shirt was ragged.

But I cannot help but be amazed by the intact wig atop my head. A mop of mess but relaiable.

No matter who won the trial, the crown of hair on my head was a champion. It's probably the only thing that didn't betray me today. The dark locks of my hair fall softly across my shoulder when I remove it. I sigh massaging my scalp, the tension in me morphs into a short illusion of ecstasy.

Originally, I was doubtful to bare myself in an alien surrounding, But the door had a latch and I thrived on privacy. There was a stone tub, the water warm to the floor that was contrastingly cold. And I craved to soak in its pleasure, so I do it. I took a long bath until the water wasn't so aggressive with the open wounds. I have never been in a tub, let alone a running stream of water with such desired temperature. I wished to play with it- in it. But the dread tapping in didn't allow me to.

When there was a warning knock, I stumbled out of the water and used a wizen towel rolled by a table. It drains the water in my hair and skin like magic. Soaking in the last ounce of it in seconds. I get dressed in the boyish suit, a belted shirt in grey with a thoughtful checkered scarf. Which I wrapped an tucked down to my collar. The wrist had fancy cuff links the sparkled when I move it near the lantern.

Once I was approachable they tended to my injuries. The officer returned again with a curator. A practitioner of healing and health, his uniform was the shade of teak brown, a full sleeve ulster strapped and buttoned in custom to his physique. His hair was a mop of dirty blonde- covering his eyes and forehead. He looked a good decade older than me.

"Too many people, too much blood" he announced placing a case, the size of a baby goat on bed. "Unbutton your shirt mister. Will you?"

I shrink in his demanding presence, forgetting for a second that it wasn't his fault. He didn't know what was beneath and bandaged under my attire.

"Can you not nurse my external wounds first?" My voice came out smaller than I intend for it too. He didn't waste time in argument. He stitched my knees, salved my ankle, cleaned my lips and wrapped my wrist, elbow and palm in a gauze. He offered me a vial of what he claimed to help me with pain and faster healing.

It was sour and he wasn't impressed when I made a face at him.

"Young and old, all are the same. A beak of immaturity" I could have taken offence, but the dispersing throbs in my body pitches me into a surprise. The burns sweat out of my pores leaving behind a tender sore.

My awestruck nature buys me another frustrated remark.

"You are floating among clouds? I accept that. But I yet need to have your ribs checked. God, is it skeleton I am treating, where's the meat?" He emphasised his discovery by poking my collarbone. He could be among the list of the least professional curator in the city, hence none could have confused me with such comfort as his criticism did.

He didn't care. And I wanted everyone else to do too.

His shoes tap impatiently against the floor when a commotion resounds.

"It's against our order to let you go in there miss"

The guards by the door cross stood by Castle who looked as fresh as an unplucked daisy from a garden. She scowled at the guards with her pastel lips quirking to unleash something that sure many would not approve. Not that she could voice herself.

"Let her come, she is a brave one" the curator waves an order. It was a farce to root that the guards would take his request into account- but they dropped their heads low and stepped to either side. Castle walks in with a smile, dressed in a lavender linen suit with silver details, her black trousers and tall boots aged her into someone more than a stubborn girl. Her hair that's usually a tangle of braid was open and wavy.

She walked in and dropped into a curtsy when she saw the curator. It is when I see the medal patched carelessly by his breast pocket- he was a highborn. And like that the comfort I felt around his presence evaporates.

"You see her lad? She is the only one whose face didn't curdle when she drank her stimulant" he mused proudly.

I sigh, respiring through my lips at the feast of chiding I endured merely because I accidentally decided that the tonic was sour. I stay mum as the curator in exchange forgot entirely about my ribs and left.

Castles hands are up and active with not a minute to spare, signing me with her questions.

"How are you?" She asks diamonds of curiosity in her eyes.

I stood up on my feet, the numbness neutralising each of my steps as I got to her

"Sometimes, your audacity baffles me" I reply, watching her react in to it. Expecting something. She disappoints me though.

She wasn't guilty. How could she? She was the epitome of narcissism. But also- as much as in danger as Dorin and I was.

"I didn't wish this upon us" my brows arc while I rolled the sleeve down to my wrist, and cast its buttons.

"And yet you counted on Dorin if it was to go wrong" I seethe as she smiles with a nod sideways. A cruel denial.

"I counted on you"

There was an absurd assurety in her utterance that melts my walls, speechless at her confidence I open my mouth to ask her. Demand her of what she has been hiding, what is it that she knows that none of us does. How does she keep conning us and manipulating her way through us? My accusations wither in comparison to the loud onset of storming footsteps and a startling comment by the guards-

"We- we were waiting for the orders from above sir, we-

The door gets opened with a force, a man and a woman stride in. Their posture an envious form of art and their voice a challenging test.

"The orders have changed, we shall escort the boy" a man to the right tips his head retiring the guards with a wave. I would recognise them anywhere. The Armins. Her penetrative gaze swipes over as the male Armin nears me. Without an indication he pats my sides and turns my back to him, Castles lips twitched in sympathy as the pockets in my behind get monitored for security purpose.

I ought to have prepared myself for this, to strengthen my skin for what would come my way. But it's too fast and too soon. My body seem to stroll while the soul remained shackled. When I cleared the test the woman speaks-

"Timo Kasper" she reads through a card, her stag like eyes skimming over my name with emptiness. They were too neutral and cold to get ahold of their thinking. "That's your name?" I nod, once.

"You'll come with us, we will accompany you to the instructed location where you are purposed"

And with that, I became a puppet. With one of them on either side- I search for Castle, but she was gone. It was convenient, for her not to be here when I leave. Yearning for dependence will severely keep me from staying alert. There is no one to wipe the mistake that I might make here. So I look ahead- taking in the large hall that opened after the corridor I came from.

There were girls and boys alike. Everywhere. Training, eating, laughing and learning. When the two Armins that escorted me emerged, there was a drop in the noises they made. Some watched them with a dreamy stance while few who might have recognised me from the arena gawked and frowned at me.

I even saw the two boys who fought a serpent yesterday. The one with acidic arms. A huge dome concealed the sky, a ceiling so high that I suspect that I cramped a nerve while drinking its distance. Vines of leaves decorate the ceramic shine from the pillars that held it- I could sit here admiring the marvel of architecture the whole evening, but the Armins cut to right and I notice the concrete transpiring into a floor of reflective black marble- the corridors alters from unappealing stone walls to something's that could only be described in a context of fantasy. It's gold and silver, it's engraved with stories and gems. It's something I shouldn't be walking through. There are chandeliers whose extravagance and luminosity could put the sun to shame. And then there's a door.

A door carved with a Phoenix and it's wings spread

The crest and symbol of Antar.

My ears turn hot at the sight of it and what could lay ahead. I have owned the merit to feel nervous. I can't control a fly around me, and neither can I control my own body. Mind. Or heart.

I have earned the right to be pathetic.

I tremble when they opened the door for me, the homely warmth and bewitching scent is the foremost thing I notice. It is a chamber- with carpets, vases, a table and a fireplace. Dripping with grandiose details and unwinding fluorescence. But that's not it- there are people. Three of them by the aforementioned table.

"The person you asked for your grace," declares the woman in a voice laced with humility and respect. She had her gaze set on a man who had his side to us, a stack of letters in his gloved hand while the other tossed it into the fire he stood by. One letter at a time. The Armins leave me. With them.

I recognised General Hann Slantis to his right, he forced an equally recognisable squint my way. The one to left had a witty smile, he was of a different race- with foxy eyes and sharp stare. The only one among them seated.

I refused to return that smile. Afraid to even blink in their vicinity I wait for the man with incinerating letters to acknowledge me. And finally when he shifts to regard me Is when I react. Against my policy-

-I frown.

I do it at the unfairness of his beauty, at the familiarity of his stature and at the intense examination by his gaze.

I loathe the strange sensation I adorn when he speaks,

"You appear pretty intact for someone who fought my girl"

It's calculated, taunting, enchanting and carried the melody and edge of the same voice that haunts my dreams. And it suffocates me. Not with the realisation that it's a voice that pertained from an Ezdan.

It suffocates me because I realise that I had something of his donned that I failed to recognise earlier.

The scarf that veiled half of his face last night-

-is now wrapped around my neck in a possession.

P.s unedited.

You know the drill :)