A Touch Of Darkness

41 || To Be Free

The first thing I know is the delightful, perfect sensation of fresh air rushing into my lungs. I gasp, then gasp again, taking it up in great gulps. Alive. I'm alive.

Then the pain sinks in. The throbbing ache lacing my bones. The smoky tang still scratching at my throat, its foul taste heaving in my stomach. My chest screams, agony slicing my ribs, deepening when I wrestle for another gasping breath. A thin whine slips from my lips.

"Thank the stars."

A distant voice, indistinct, the barest whisper I can hardly shape. But it's there, and I cling to it. Familiarity twists through it. I don't care. It's a voice that isn't my own, and I need it, desperately.

The world tilts and spins, nothing more than blurry lines and half-formed shadows. Pressure pushes onto my back. My ribs fiercely protest the sudden movement, hissing in my next breath. Each one is a luxury. I'm certain the smoke will come back and shove the air away at any moment. My skin still pulses, uncomfortably warm and sheened with sweat, the crack of flames ringing in my ears.

A cool breeze brushes over my face, and the heat lessens. I blink, vision hazy, and make out the icy shade of the sky above. It sways. Everything does. My stomach lurches. I feel my back jolt as it hits the ground, and roll over on instinct, coughing and retching.

Each inhale is a battle to suck in. Their rasps scrape at my ears. I claw at the ground, at dirt, my fingers numb. Another violent cough convulses through me. It's some relief I've nothing left to throw up.

Pain splits my chest, threatening to drag me back under. I'm tempted to oblige. It all hurts too much. My eyes slide shut.

"No, no. Come on, Nathan, stay with me."

A shaking in my shoulders accompanies the second fuzzy intrusion of the voice. Still half-focused on drawing in air, I do my best to twist around, searching for its source. I know it. I know its softer edge, its pitch, but its tone doesn't sit right. An odd tingle wraps over my spine.

Another welcome breath inflates my lungs, even cleaner than the last. Sharpness etches out the shapes before me. The form of a man, a boy, ragged earthy curls, piercing blue eyes.

Realisation spears through my chest in a different burst of pain. My cry collapses into a whimper. I find my legs are not so leaden they ignore my command to move, and kick them, heels dragging over hard dirt. I need to get away. He can't be here. Only more pain is reflected in those eyes.

"Alright, alright!" He grabs a handful of my tunic, yanking me back. "Stop it. Extracting the ash is a delicate procedure, and I'm incredibly tired, so you squirming about is not helping."

Shock freezes me more than anything else. As he moves closer, brow furrowing as his fingers trace up my chest, I notice his face is drained of its usual colour. Damp lines mark his cheeks, emphasised by the ash and dirt streaking them. He's been crying. Fiesi Kynig has shed tears.

There's something else in that blue gaze, too, something I'm not used to seeing. Hesitancy. The way they dart to me and down again, the way he chews at his lip.

"Fin..." My voice barely emerges as a croak, delicate as a leaf fluttering in the wind.

He shakes his head. "Don't try to talk. Just breathe."

I'm not sure I could disobey him if I tried. My whole body is wracked with pain, wound tight to stifle my breaths. I force my eyes to stay open, watching Fiesi's expression, confusion and fear and hope all swirling in a senseless storm.

"Get off him!"

Fiesi tenses a moment before someone shoves him aside, and another face appears, crouching over me. Immediately, warmth spreads over my tingling skin as if her presence sweeps in sunbeams. Her name fits in my jaw but is too cracked to release. Every part of me yearns silently with its touch instead.