Sorry about the long wait for this, but this will be the last chapter of Dragon's Blood for a while. There is another project, another story, that I have been thinking about and really want to start soon. I've literally not been able to think about Dragon's Blood because of that, and as such I feel like the story has became stale and slow, and I'm not enjoying writing about it right now. Instead of making something terrible and ruin the story, I'm instead going to start a new one, the one that I've been thinking about. Dragon's Blood will return, and I'm not going to spoil it with half-assed writing because I can't focus properly on it. Sorry if it feels like I'm making excuses or being inconsistent, but this is my decision, and I'm going to stick with it.
Thanks to Foxtrot Agent 21, Artfuldemon, Jawaswag Jenkins, Supaflywriterguy for the support. A massive thank-you to Ulquiorra9000 for helping me out with the story, I really appreciate you showing me the ropes and all the help and reviews. The story of Kaldros and Jakhan will continue in the future, but right now expect my new story to be coming out soon.
Sight Blood was the first thing he noticed. The blood covered everything, drenching the large room in crimson fluid that ran down the walls, Touch making the wood feel slick under his fingers. As his vision and touch returned, so did the Smell disgusting reek of death that clogged his nostrils and made him want to vomit. Taste As he gagged, he realised that his mouth was open – claret liquid was pouring into his mouth, and he choked, the blood running past his tongue and down his throat.
He thrashed, trying to block the unrelenting flow of gore with his hands, but they were tied behind his back, forced around a post of wood that was also soaked in vital fluids. The blood stopped, and he panted for breath. He felt a sharp pain in his abdomen, and looked down, his naked flesh covered in violent slices that had strange pieces of machinery stuck into the skin. As he saw his wounds, the agony increased, as if responding to his sight of the atrocities wreaked upon his body. He looked up, but the torment remained, and came face to face with a beetle-like thing with malicious eyes that seemed to revel in his torture. It had a huge proboscis that dripped with scarlet ichor, and he soon discovered that he was behind fed his own blood.
As he came to this conclusion, the thing rammed the proboscis into his mouth and began squirting the blood it extracted from the wounds in his chest. He retched as the liquid began to drown him, the machine holding his mouth open with large pincer-claws that cut his lips, adding to the vile torrent. He struggled violently, which somehow seemed to increase the amount of blood pouring down his throat. The flow stopped, allowing him to breath again.
Sound The final sense awoke, and he was assaulted by a barrage of noises, his own pained breathing and terrified whimpers, the slurping noise of the pipes stuck into his chest. The worst sound was a constant whirring that sounded like some sort of insect but with a metallic tone to it, and he assumed that the machine in front of him was making it.
He breathed heavily, trying to assess the situation but finding all of his thoughts slipping away. He needed to focus, to try and escape, but all he could think of was when the machine would choke him with his own blood again, and the perpetual buzz filling the room. Panic filled his mind – how can I make it stop? Why is it doing this? Why am I here? Who..who am I? The pitch of the whirring increased, and so did its intensity, creating a horrifying screech that pierced through his thoughts.
He screamed, shrieking and crying, as the malevolent creature pulled forwards, grabbing hold of his mouth and forcing it open.
.*.*.*.
"Kaldros! Kaldros!" a voiced shouted, "Wake up!"
He shook with barely repressed shudders of pure terror, still screaming, his throat raw. Large hands pulled his closer to a figure sat beside him, and he thrashed desperately, trying to get away, trying to prevent further pain. The red receded from his vision, the agony in his chest faded away, but the shrieking screech of the torture-machine still remained. He clawed and bit, and the large figure grunted, blood spurting out of a wound in his arm.
He could feel energy building up in him – something he could use to stop the pain, silence the screeching whirring that cut through his mind. Defiance replaced fear, and he let the power flow through him. Sensing the danger, the figure quickly yanked him over as light bled out of his skin. Strong arms locked against his throat, and the feeling of power he had felt for a moment soon sank back, swamped by a sea of terror.
He didn't want this to happen. He wanted to breathe, to destroy the thing before it started to choke him, but as his confidence fled, so too did the power welling up inside of him. He yelled, bawled and screamed, kicking his legs violently and writhing against the hold the attacker had on him. The arms refused to budge, although they were restricting his movements more than his breathing, and he realised that he would die here. I don't even know who I am! I don't want to die! He thought, tears falling down his face as he howled loudly, hopelessly trying to break free, escape the horror, as the whirring continued, slowly driving him insane.
"Sorry, little brother," the voice said regretfully, and the arms clamped down, cutting of his air. He pleaded silently, darkness crowding the edges of his vision, as he slipped into unconscious. His struggling weakened, not resigning himself to his fate as the arms squeezed harder. The screeching finally stopped.
.*.*.*.
Arethe burst into the room, Meja following quickly, shouting: "Are you two alright? What's going on?" They saw Jakhan, a worried look plastered on his face, his younger brother laying still in his arms, tears running down both their faces.
"Jakhan? What happened?" Arethe questioned, as she heard movement and shouts from the rooms below them, as Meja took the unmoving Kaldros from his twin.
"I...I don't know," Jakhan panted, and Arethe noticed several teeth and nail marks on his arms, "I think he had a nightmare, he was screaming in the bed next to me so I tried to wake him up, and he attacked me,"
He explained quickly, scared by the experience, "He didn't know what was going on – he's never tried to hurt me before. He was acting like I was about to kill him. I wasn't going to hurt him, I knew that he wouldn't be able to do much trying to attack me, but when he started to use magic, I had to knock him out,"
"Lets hope you didn't hurt him much," Meja interjected snarkily, and Arethe shot him a fiery glance as he checked for a pulse. Kaldros was breathing, very lightly, and his heart thudded slowly.
"Jakhan, everything is going to be alright," she soothed reassuringly, sitting down next to the adrenaline-fuelled boy and putting her arm round his large shoulders, "You did the right thing. Kaldros wouldn't want to hurt you, or other people, and if he was using his magic beyond his control he would have wanted you to do that to."
"He always gets hurt. I can't protect him, most of the time it's me who is causing him pain anyway," Jakhan said bitterly, moving over to where Meja shook his unresponsive brother. He tenderly stroked Kaldros's silver hair, his brother looked so fragile and thin compared to him. It was strange to see the gentle and composed albino so desperate and violent, although Jakhan supposed that he had been in worse states – in the battle with the Temur, and then the one with Khemet.
Kaldros's eyes snapped open, and he sat up, coughing and spluttering as Meja held him still. His red orbs were filled with confusion – he could still remember the dream, the two terrifying halves of it still resounding in his mind. He looked questioningly at Jakhan, who couldn't meet his gaze and stared as the ground guiltily. Kaldros massaged his pale throat, and then realisation clicked in his mind.
"Oh. And I was making such great progress with him," Kaldros stated, his voice detached and utterly unconcerned by his ordeal. He walked over to Jakhan, shaking slightly, and embraced his twin in a hug. Jakhan remembered his brother's words from the night before and smiled, knowing that Kaldros didn't want him to feel guilty.
Pulling himself away, Kaldros inquired, "So that last part was real?" and Jakhan nodded sadly, asking, "Are you ok?"
He repeated the question when his brother's attention drifted for a moment – Kaldros snapped back into reality and he grinned enthusiastically at his fraternal twin. Puzzled, Jakhan questioned: "So you're not scared by anything that just happened? You thought I was going to kill you a few minutes ago!"
"Yeah, well, that was a few minutes ago," Kaldros dismissed, lightly shoving his brother away: "This is a great opportunity, and I am not going to waste it wallowing in sadness,"
The other three in the room looked confusedly at him, Meja making a motion with his arms indicating that the albino should elaborate.
"The last time I had a dream so vivid, so memorable, it led me to Sorin," he smiled, and then blinked in belated realisation as his explanation didn't seem to have any effect, "Oh. I should probably tell you about what happened last night,"
"That would help," Jakhan said, playfully punching his brother on the arm.