I hope it leads us out of here. This place doesn’t feel dangerous, just inconvenient. [Why is he a source of fire? Why does it feel like he is at his best in dangerous situations? He cups the flame and walks on.
The gravestones line the path. His head aches as if something is a breath away. He ignores it until the pain fades. Ahead of them on the right side is a version of his grave. The others had a ring with a crest on it. A small shield with what was a coat of arms.
Resting against the headstone is a massive black and red sword. His hand itches to grab it. He reaches for it despite himself and grasps it. It is only after he grabbed it that he realizes it was with the hand that held a flame. The thread of fire weaves over the blade as if it was always meant to.
And a wash of cool air to his left makes him turn. A hallway of stone with the exit at the end yawns before them. He stares at the sword. He could take it.
But instead he lays it back in place and walks towards the new hallway. The urge to go back and take it pulls on him. He shakes his head. Behind him the flames die out on the blade.]
no subject
The gravestones line the path. His head aches as if something is a breath away. He ignores it until the pain fades. Ahead of them on the right side is a version of his grave. The others had a ring with a crest on it. A small shield with what was a coat of arms.
Resting against the headstone is a massive black and red sword. His hand itches to grab it. He reaches for it despite himself and grasps it. It is only after he grabbed it that he realizes it was with the hand that held a flame. The thread of fire weaves over the blade as if it was always meant to.
And a wash of cool air to his left makes him turn. A hallway of stone with the exit at the end yawns before them. He stares at the sword. He could take it.
But instead he lays it back in place and walks towards the new hallway. The urge to go back and take it pulls on him. He shakes his head. Behind him the flames die out on the blade.]