FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter 40

He could swear that the walls of this forsaken dungeon were becoming thicker and thicker with each his visit here. What once was a spacey corridor was steadily becoming a thin opening in a clogged vein, making it more and more harder to breathe.

He barely got down here and he was already panting, his slick with sweat scales burning as the armor he wore slid across them with each pump of his moving legs. He really felt like his ice scales were melting under heat pressure.

Speaking of heat.

It was impossibly hot in here and he was certain that temperature was really the main issue here and not the stress of his still healing wound and the general ordeal for muscles when wearing armor. If he would imagine just how the Dark Realms look like, where all the ugly and wicked souls get housed, then he would easily say that it for sure would be as hot as here.

It was surely the same heat Malefor's soul is being fried by right now.

And he is heading right into the core from which it blows.

Cyril stopped in his tracks, the big can of worms he held in his bag rattled against another can where insects were in. The sound making him wince in sickening frustration, claws digging into the warm stone ferociously, making steam and sparks flare up in the air.

His mind was immediately tugged back by the wicked chains of memory, memory that tormented him with images of himself, the respectful Guardian, digging through mud and dirt, picking up worms and insects like flowers only because rats seemed to learn to stay away from him.

He was falling lower and lower each day.

And he hated it, hated it will all of his heart.

He could just tear the kid's head off and be done with it, no more humiliation, no more frustration, no more grime.

And no more dragons.

The frowns on his snout deepened, aging his locked in expression of fury snout by several years, the tension cracking the scales in the most weakest of spots. One of the holes on his membranes becoming a little more wider, shedding a piece like a longing, lone tear.

In between his hard breathing he could still hear the faint, mind numbing, reverent and corrupted prayer of the dark crystal. The accursed words spurt out by the flashing images of Brill's moving mouth.

Cyril shook his head, giving it a solid slap to force all the gears inside the skull to start up with their normal, logical pace up again.

This has nothing to do with the Dark Realms, damnation or any other superstitious oddity you stupid, old fool. All of it is the making of your weak heart that became mushy and meek throughout the years of peace, no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself that you're invincible to the influence of the world.

Down the corridor nothing godly awaits you, it's only one murderous boy who you torment by making him turn into the fiery abomination he is. The heat is nothing more than his blood.

He swallowed, for a second wishing to be back to the superstitious way of thinking, the alternative wasn't that much more enticing as it turned out to be honest.

But there was nothing more to do now but to push forward, no matter how many times you hesitate you old sheep, remember that there was no turning back now. Brill never waited and looked what happened.

Never again he will see his kind fall so low.

With a grunt Cyril gave his containers an irritated shake, making them clap against his scales with vigor comparable to the thrusting hips of the leading lover. Imagining the worms and insects going through their own discomfort when their world literally shook in its core filled him with some wicked sense of satisfaction, at least there was something besides him that had its tranquility ruined.

He pressed forwards, his paws letting out wet, smacking sounds with each step over the blazing floor, steam from his icy aura hissing aggressively up towards the ceiling in swaying columns of steam that shook rhythmically like talented dancers as they climbed up.

His swishing tail was as restless as his soul, painting the corridor with trails of icy mist, creating its own rainbow of colors. One might believe that it was a sight worth of awe inducing sight, but only closer inspection proved that this combination of elements had nothing to do with courtesy but fierce skirmish where the two battling sides were set on devouring the other.

He was about to find out if he still had enough of strength to fight for his life.

He reached the accursed secret door far more quicker than he wished, the heat coming off of them was unbearable, getting worse and worse with each visit. The straps of the constantly getting heavier armor were now eating into his melting under the heat scales, he feared that if he would reach out there to scratch himself he might have actually carve his way to the bone.

And he still needed his limbs, with that thing in there he never knew what he would need to sacrifice to protect the scales on his snout from being burned away. That was the one area he would have difficulties to cover up.

Cyril looked around, making sure that no one is watching, deep down wishing though that one of his friends would see him here. Cold logic however silenced that thinking quickly, no one in their sane mind would come down here into this pits of fire.

Too bad, his soul really hoped that there would be someone pulling him away from this damn door.

At least in this silence he could admit to himself that he was afraid, he feared what he will find behind this door. It was not only about the criminal inside, while his blazing features were a considerable dread inducing trait, it was simply impossible to predict what the boy is capable of, they were not solely responsible for his fears.

After all that beast wasn't there in the beginning.

He was the one that made it appear, and he is the one that keeps it breathing. Stopping at nothing in his sprint to burn out the taint that polluted his kind from that forsaken temple. Which would be acceptable if rough, he saw nothing wrong with exploiting murderers to do some good.

What he found distressing was the fact that he had no courage to announce his methods to the public.

And only criminals keep secrets.

He growled, shaking his head, giving it another slap.

What nonsense is this!

The bodies they had to entomb, the families they had to inform and the cries they had to listen to, wasn't it all enough of an evidence to say that playing by the book doesn't work when you face spiritual and unnatural forces?

No, no more losses like that.

He was writing a new chapter in the chronicles of the Realms.

History is the only force in the universe that can judge him.

He pushed the hellish door open, carefully, his eyes burning brighter and brighter with icy flames by each millimeter the opening widened. Immense heat greeted him, washing over him with the strength of a scorching sun.

Tentacles of frost wafted from his snarling mouth, a fire of ice blazing inside his mouth. The cell reeked like old, sooty fireplace. The air vibrated, it was impossible to tell that it was caused by the heat or some released gases from the many vermin bodies that were devoured here, like always the combination of the smell and the unstable air made his head spin, clogging his every breathing canal.

This is always the moment when the beast made its move, sensing like a true predator his moment of distraction. He already braced himself for the impact of more scorching waves, his heart slowing its beat, preparing for the inevitable.

So inevitable that the predicted attack never came.

Did it work?

Did he really satisfy the monster's craving? Finally?

He didn't let his guard down, Flare was dangerous no matter what and there was always a chance that this was all a trick, he didn't suspect the boy being so clever, wild fire isn't known for its talent for planning after all.

The boy was clearly here, the blazing aura was too strong to be simply a leftover, for some reason though the boy didn't rely on front nor sneak attack. The regret of coming down here nagged at his heart even so stronger, making it impossibly difficult to force his leg in there, every single time the ordeal feeling as if he left a piece of his soul at the entrance.

Blue leg pushed into the cell, with a nervous grunt followed by the rest of the body, again the annoying idea of having it severed off before he could react flashed in his head, body freezing on the spot when the door shut behind him, heat embracing him like a cloak in the windowless room.

Red light pulsed within in the rhythm of his beating heart.

Flare was nowhere to be seen.

Something was definitely off, while he had seen the boy going through less and more aggressive phases in his burning form, he was always there to greet him with blood and terror. This time was different, Flare seemed to not be interested in his presence here at all and while he couldn't see the monster right now, Flare was surely here.

From behind the corner came the source for all that light, pulsing steadily to the rhythm of his heart. The burning light matched its pace perfectly, whenever the beat slowed the light did the same and whenever it fired up again with more rapid beating the light was right behind it.

It was very unsettling, making him feel like a pet on a leash that can be thrown off of a cliff whenever his owner deems it so. Seeing that light shadowing his heart was one of the most scariest things he had ever seen. The message here was subtle, but terrifying to the bone, no matter how hard he tries to convince himself that he was the one in charge here, the truth was that out of the two of them he was the victim here.

He might have control over Flare, the burning creature though was a different matter entirely, all he could do was to point it in the right direction and even that was not reliable enough to guarantee that his mission will be successful.

But he'll worry about that later.

Right now all that mattered was to imprint where the fuse is in the creature's head.

"Boy?" Cyril called out into the empty room, his cool voice irritating the small flames dancing in the corners of the cell, making them hiss at him angrily like snakes "Are you there boy?"

Silence.

Not even the pulsing light reacted to his voice.

Of course the intention behind the question was more deeply layered than a simple pinpoint of localization, he knew where to boy was after all. What he wanted to know was if the creature emitting the light is actually Flare or his murderous alter ego.

And if Flare was really there he will never read through his plan.

"Are you there?" he asked again, silence and ignorance usually made him furious, but in this particular case he was willing to succumb to the irritating demands of patience and give the prisoner all the time he needs

It was not worth risking another wound, the one that he already had still didn't heal properly and despite his advanced age he wasn't really keen on living the rest of his life with pain.

"Do you hear me Flare?"

"Yes"

Cyril whizzed, his breath cut of sharply as if a clever would sever it cleanly. His body vibrated with both relief and tension, the voice that came from around the corner belonged to the boy and didn't at the same time. While it was innocent and naïve, the otherworldly tone shook the tones clearly, as if together with Flare would be talking another creature through the same mouth.

This is how he imagined the noise of stretching tree roots would sound like.

Swallowing, he made a step forward, the light in the cell sped up its rhythmic pulses, becoming quicker and quicker the closer he got to the edge of the wall. Determination evaporated during the step which would uncover him from the protection of the wall, his claws clicked into the floor, the tips of his natural blades ideally leveling themselves with the edge of the wall, letting nothing stand out past the wall.

This was all so stressful, he cursed his worthless existence, rotting away in those halls among all the paperwork and whining people washed away all of his fighter's spirit. He still remembered the times where he walked into battle with a determined roar rumbling from his throat, unafraid of blades and beasts alike.

Where all that courage go?

Was he really that old that he was afraid of a dragon? Flare might be special, but he too possessed capable talent in the magic department.

No Cyril.

This whole thing never had anything to do with typical danger you were used to. Enemies from the past where there from the start, with their own motivations and purposes.

This enemy you had created yourself.

The ice dragon gulped, his toes wiggling nervously ever so slightly.

That is not true! The boy is a criminal!

He heard his own voice blaring out inside his skull and without any more hesitation he stepped out from the cover, turning immediately towards the cell.

Each part of his movement lacking the disciplined morale of a soldier, all of it felt as if he would be turning towards a mirror.

And for a second he saw his own reflection staring back at him from the flames, it was blazing with intense fire and behind it burned a book he recognized immediately. It was the chronicles of the Realms, never to be recovered again.

In front of his reflection lied a single page, there were no letters on it just yet, but the paper wasn't empty. The New chapter had already begun.

And it was written in blood.

He blinked, discarding the illusion and revealing reality for what it truly is.

The cell changed again, every time he managed to lay his eyes on it, it was always different. Nothing remained of the bars, truth be told he was calling this spot a cell by habit only, when Flare turned for the first time the heat he emanated was so intense that no metal was able to withstand the temperature.

A piece of this melting metal the burning dragon used to make the cut on his flank.

The cell was nothing more than a choking, hot rock, not even his cold magic could protect it from it, he was too exposed to the element to have any chances of countering it. His whole body glistened with sweat, even motionless stand felt like a massive, strenuous exercise.

More letters appeared on the walls, he wasn't really interested what they had to say, his focus was locked on the shape of the dragon in the room, despite that he managed to catch several words that weren't some random mumbling anymore. He could notice some logical sentences being formed there and though he didn't care, he still noticed two words among the carvings that stood out from the rest.

Beast and Worms.

Words that somewhat matched the body lying on the ground.

Flare was curled on the hot floor, his limbs were stretched out in random directions making him look as if he would be ran over by a mining cart like some bug. Only one foreleg was moving, restlessly scratching at the wall, deepening even further the already prominent form of a letter.

His body was cracked, not with the holes typical for old dragons, but burning fire, his left side of the snout was practically nothing but flames, with only the lower jaw, and only a half of it, being real bone, scale and teeth. The eye there was also unnatural, devoid of pupil and soul, being only a blazing hole filled with cracking flames.

His usually burning mane and wings were cracking fire like always, but clearly more intensely, not to mention the size of both. Cyril couldn't say for certain, but to him it looked like both those things were two times bigger than usual, the wings reaching the size of his blue ones.

The back was mostly scale, yet there were many specks of fire that cracked with blazing sparks, erupting like little, tormented pustules. One stretched out hind leg was completely covered in scales while the other had none of the present, being a lively, burning torch.

Flare didn't even look his way, his otherworldly draconic face was directed at the wall, attention only enlarging the already big hole his claw carved.

Cyril had barely enough saliva to wet his throat, the heat emanating from the kid was suffocating the air itself in this forsaken place, which was quite fitting considering that the boy looked like a charred, ran over corpse anyway.

"You're looking good Flare" the ice dragon noted sarcastically

"The Beast is digesting" the red dragon hissed with his otherworldly voice, the tone slipping past his tongue vibrated, each word coming slowly and with great difficulty as if talking would cause him indescribable agony

"Good, because I brought you more treats" the bags with the cans landed on the hot ground with a clank

Muffled noises of the insects trapped within howled inside one of the cans as they desperately fought to stay away from the unavoidable heat.

Flare shook violently, as if the heated ground would transfer the chaos locked within the cans to his very nerves.

"Worms" the red dragon muttered, his mixed voice pronouncing fear and excitement at the same time, lower jaw clicking hollowly, snapping like a laughing skull

"We spent so much time together and you kept calling for them all this time so I thought I'll make you a gift and bring you some. Don't you like them?" Cyril cocked his head in honest surprise, sliding the can a little closer to the dragon

"No!" Flare roared in panic, lifting his body in an explosion of fire, he pressed his body to the corner of the room, the rocks there hissing painfully under the violent assault of the temperature his body was giving away

He trembled in total dread, the single, healthy eye looking around in panic, in pointless search of a hole he could squeeze into. Even though he seemed to act afraid, the burning side of his persona acted quite the opposite. Whips of flames stretched out from every possible burning part of his body, slashing hungrily in the air, reaching out to the can but being thrown back by some invisible force.

Cyril shuffled from leg to leg, the prisoner might not be as aggressive as usual, but this double personality and the whipping lashes of flame made him look more scarier than when he was completely covered by tendrils of fire.

"No worms, no worms!" Flare shook his head violently, his mane splashing burning tears all around

The fiery light around him pulsed more rapidly, Cyril instinctively clenched his chest, feeling as if he was loosing his breath. His mouth parted open, pushing out the tongue with a rough whizz, he felt an irritating stinging ache in his chest, as if his heart wanted to break through the ribcage.

Was he having a heart attack?

It can't be, the light matching the pace of his heart must have been only a wicked irony of the moment, there is no creature in the entire world capable of breaking hearts with just a thought. It must have been the heat, it had to be it, that together with the general stress of this whole situation is just making things more complicated than they really are.

Because it was impossible that his actions against the boy were killing him as well.

This beast will be the end of him.

With an angry growl Cyril reached for the cans, his paw switching to the one filled with insects at the last notice. He tossed it at the screaming dragon with a ferocious snarl.

Coughing soon after as a particular hot waft of air burned his throat.

The flaming tentacles stretching from Flare's body lashed forward hungrily, they embraced the can in a blink of an eye and with a quick flash turned the metal as well as its contents into ash in a matter of short second.

Blood erupted from each opening in the red dragon's body forcing Cyril to gag at the disgusting sight, yet despite the view that looked drastically painful Flare remained still as if nothing happened. The shower of blood was would put probably every dragon down, the pressure with which the blood blew almost looked like a miniature dynamite would detonate in the dragon's guts.

What would drop many actually seemed to heal Flare.

The specks of fire on the dragon's back mended together, filling up the holes with fresh, glistening scale like that of a freshly hatched hatchling.

Cyril blinked several times, of course by now he knew what calmed the thing, but before he never dared to actually observe it firstpaw and he already regretted that he did. It's common knowledge that a nourishing meal can give strength, but he never expected to witness the healing process happening literally. Seeing the dragon mend his wounds would probably be positively shocking if not for the fact that he knew that this regeneration isn't caused by ordinary food.

That burning beast can only be satisfied by sentient life.

Oh the boy will surely get the job done.

And Ancestors willing Warfang will have enough strength to do its part when the pollution will be finally burned out.

"One more can left, be a big boy and make short work of it" Cyril commanded icily

"Worms! It's full of worms!" Flare backed away, pressing his body harder against the hot walls

"Burn them and they'll be gone"

"I can't! Sparx said not to burn the worms or everything will fall apart!"

Cyril's eyes glowed menacingly, back to this same idiotic argument, he pushes the boy to the limit, makes the thing inside him take control and no matter how many times he sees progress, Flare keeps backing away, referring to Sparx' command.

He'll rot first before he allows a dragonfly to meld reality of dragons, they had already a parasite in the shape of an old mole that sticks his stinking claws where they don't belong. There won't be anyone else bringing death upon his kind.

"Wouldn't you like it to fall apart?"

Flare looked at the Guardian, his healthy eye confused.

Cyril waved his paw across the room, embracing it all with a single swing.

"Aren't you tired of this place?"

Red paws slapped against the head, claws drilling into the scales.

"I am" he whimpered, he rocked back and forth "I don't like tight spaces, it's been too long, too long" paw slammed against the wall in a shower of fire, his muscles flexed and body shook with stress as he applied pressure in a futile attempt to push the wall away "I feel sick, the Beast keeps talking and talking and talking and then..." he rose his paw to his face, watching it shake violently "Then it bites, bites and bites. I don't like it, I don't like it anymore" paws slapped against the nose, raking down scale and flame alike, making both bleed with liquid fire "Let me go, please! I liked it when the Beast was sleeping! I liked it more!"

The Ice Guardian shook his head, he would feel disgust for the sickening creature, but he knew what Flare was capable of, and strength demanded respect, no matter how poisonous it might be. He had no idea how a pitiful thing like that can be so powerful, especially when the boy comes up with some childish excuses for his murderous tendencies.

There are no alter egos when it comes to criminals, some of them might feel pity eventually for what they did, but that didn't change the fact that they committed an act of violence. Cynder who was corrupted by dark forces never made excuses for her crimes, taking the blame for herself even though her paws were not her own, she understood that the inability to overcome your parasite makes you just as guilty as the one wielding your claws.

In the end blood flows from your limbs.

So cry my little boy about the injustice of the world all you like, it won't change the fact that you are a worthless murderer, no matter if you blame the Beast, fairies or any other silly thing. Blood soaks your scales and that makes you the very same Beast you curse so much.

The Realms didn't accept such an excuse when it came to Cynder and they won't accept it when it comes to Flare, he was already considered her pet anyway with the way he clung to her tail.

"You are charged for crimes against the people of Warfang. You won't leave this place until you confess and then accept my proposal. There is no other way out boy"

"I didn't do anything!" Flare cried out, his body bursting with wicked flames that lashed in the direction of the Ice Guardian

Cyril remained still, his body language betraying no sign of fear, it was a practiced show that he mastered during his years as a Guardian. That didn't mean though he wasn't intimidated and afraid, especially when he was practically bargaining with his life based on instinct alone. He might have learned how to provoke the creature and read its almost feral behavior, that didn't mean though that Flare was not capable of snapping at some point and break away from every established idea.

It would hurt a lot if that monster decided to attack him and this time he really doubted he would be able to beat back the primal element of fire so far away from the only possible escape route.

"You burned down several people"

"No! I never hurt anyone!"

Cyril sighed.

"Fine, you burned down several worms"

"No I didn't, they scare me!" he pointed at his burning half of the draconic snout "The Beast burns the worms! I told you that already!"

This was getting them nowhere, no matter how many times he asked the kid the same question he always replied that he was innocent. Seeing that even in his pitiful state Flare still cries out the same excuse, pursuing a direct answer from the boy was pointless. There was clearly something wrong with his head and he doubted that there was a way to make the boy see his actions as ones belonging to him alone.

There was no individuality in this case, the kid sees himself as two creatures and it will be definitely easier to work like that. It was perhaps not according to the laws, but then again he crossed already all the lines that shouldn't be touched, and the sooner this ends the better they will be, both of them.

"Then the Beast did. How many?"

Flare frowned, deep wrinkles appeared on his scaly side of the snout while the burning one started to glow brighter, undulating as if something would be digging under the surface of the flames.

His head was blank, the world swirled as he tried to concentrate.

"I don't remember"

"Two? Four? Five?" Cyril pressed, unmoved by the boy's discomfort

"I don't-"

"Where did you do it? Was it like the home you detonated?"

Scraps of long gone memories flashed before his eyes, he never remembered the worms, but he always recalled the dens.

"Alley" Flare's voice turned deep and rumbling, fire erupted from his mouth with each flick of the tongue

Cyril impulsively backed away at the sight of the fiery eye staring right at him, it was full of hateful hunger.

"A pair wiggled there. Cleaned now" a blazing tentacle stretched out from the mane, petting the fiery cheek "Saw another den near a house. Coriza's house. It was not allowed to taint those walls. Got one there"

A pair and one near the cleric's house? There was no certainty but from what he recalled Terrador telling him the pair must be the two young cheetahs that disappeared, while the single one must be the tinker mole. What were they all called again? He couldn't remember, he never had a talent for remembering names of the deceased, years of war made him treat every corpse the same.

"Then an entire den, all gone" the tentacle gave the fiery cheek a slap, the hit threw sparks of flames all around, the splintered in half snout snarled aggressively.

"Not enough"

With a quick flash Flare dashed ahead, leaving only a scorch mark where he was before. He latched onto the can of worms, melting it away instantly.

Cyril covered himself in a icy armor, eye darting towards the exit before returning back at the flaming creature who molested the pile of ash that remained from the worms trapped within. His heart was now perfectly matching the rapid pulse the creature was giving away.

Blood gushed from Flare's body once more, the pressure with which it pushed out was so strong that the splash hit the Guardian's chest and snout.

Cyril gagged, almost throwing up.

Oh no, this is enough, there was still a matter of a child dying unexpectedly, but there was no way he will push the creature for more information. He got all he needed, enough to calm his conscience and not to feel like a total garbage. He can just roll the death of the kid on Flare's account without telling him about it. The rules were bent in this whole situation already, an additional flex won't make a difference.

A big difference might occur though if he provokes the creature further, where having the blood from the monster's guts would be the least of his worries.

Flare's double gaze was burning holes in the Guardian's soul.

"The Beast wants you" his mixed voice vibrated in the air, like an echo of a thousands ghosts reaching out from their realm during some spiritual summoning "It will get you. I can't think in this place. It's so tight, so loud, so tiring and stinky. I smell again. I need my muses, give me my muses, please. The Beast tasted life, it wants more, please, bring me my muses"

What in Ancestors name that thing was talking about?

"You are in no position to make demands boy. You are a prisoner" Cyril cut in sharply, deciding to not bother his already strained brain cells with more nonsense

"I WANT it to sleep!" Flare cried out at the top of his lungs, his scream a wail of a siren and a roar of a demon in one "It was so nice when it was sleeping"

"There is only one thing you must do and then you can rest for as long as you want to" Cyril looked at the dragon in disgust "I guarantee you will rest for a very long time"

"No, no, no, no. No!" Flare shook his head frantically, each jerk throwing his body from side to side, making him slam against the wall on both sides of the prison room

That kid was insane.

More doubt crept into Cyril's heart, not because he felt any pity for the boy, that was gone the moment he confessed to the killings, the doubt was caused by the inability to tell if his desire to cleanse this city from the corruptive mockery of a faith was actually a worthy goal to undertake. Ironically, it really looked like he was following the same road as Brill did during his belief in the Ancestors.

He too believed he could fight his battle by himself.

But there was a difference between them you stupid heart! Brill always believed he was doing the good thing, that he was following the orders of a godlike being. He doesn't have that issue, this is his work alone and in contrary to Brill he was aware that the tool he uses is evil. Contrary to Brill he knew that that evil needs to be eradicated the moment its usefulness ends.

And contrary to Brill he was certain that you cannot get the job done by being meek, otherwise you won't even notice when you personally become the tool.

Something that the mole cleric probably has a lot of time to think about now when glued to the bed in his crippled form, of course when he wasn't busy crying, tormented by the pulsing whips of agonizing pain.

Salvation is coming my friend.

"I don't want to! My friends won't like me anymore!"

"They won't like you now if they find out what you did"

Flare burst with flames, some of his scales cracked, giving up to the pressure of the blazing heat, becoming a little more like a walking torch than a dragon. Absolute terror could be seen in the single, healthy eye.

"I'm offering you a chance here boy, this is your opportunity for redemption. You won't wash your crimes away, but you actually can do something with your life still, make it mean anything. You will be saving many souls if you do what I say, trust me, your friends will be very proud of you"

"I don't know! I don't know! Sparx said-"

"Forget what that dragonfly told you!" Cyril snapped angrily

"He was right!" Flare grabbed his burning mane, stretching it in front of his nose, watching it in total horror "I had control, there were no more worms"

"Worms are everywhere kid! You only need to take care of the ones in the temple and then it'll be over!"

"Everywhere!" the red dragon cried out loudly, he jumped and looked around the room, shouting each time his paws touched the floor, his whole body was bent and shaking. He was prancing about the room as if pits of oblivion would be opening under his paws after each rap of his claws

"They are everywhere!" he whined hysterically, throwing his head around in a wild tantrum

Cyril took a instinctive step back, closer to the exit.

"EVERYWHERE!"

"Stop it fool! You are seeing things!" Cyril roared at the dragon

Flare glanced at the Ice Guardian and then stopped, his whole body freezing in place, his flaming eye burst with fresh flames.

"Everywhere" he intoned, his voice no longer caring the innocent vibration, becoming raw and dreadfully demonic "It will never be over" Flare's healthy eye popped in a shower of blood, the entire eyeball landing right in front of Cyril's paw

The ice dragon's paws forced the body to move several steps back. When he raised his gaze from the gruesome sight and back at the red dragon he noticed that now both of his eyes were swirling balls of blazing torrent of flames.

Without hesitation Cyril raised a thick wall of ice in front of him and immediately sprinted towards the exit door, knowing well what was happening.

"BUT I WILL BRING THE END CLOSER!"

Cyril felt his muscles clench at the sound of the hellish blare, he had to rearrange his grip on the door that suddenly felt way too slippery. He opened them right in the moment when Flare, or whatever the hell he was, broke through the ice barrier after a second strike at it, tentacles of flames were whipping all around the room.

Cyril forced his way through the narrow opening that was still too small for the dragon of his size to fit through cleanly. He forced the door open wider with his squeezing body.

The armor was getting hot under the assault of the temperature behind him.

The tentacles whipped in his direction.

Cyril managed to push through, feeling some of the blazing whips crashing against the armor on his tail. He pushed the door close quickly, sliding it back in place just in time to cut one of the flaming whips that pushed through, slicing part of it like a wiggling tongue.

It exploded with fiery sparks the moment it hit the ground.

"Fuck!" Cyril growled, throwing his head to the side when the tongues of flames scorched his snout, one almost took out his eye

He then felt a strong stab of pain on his tail, he immediately slammed it against the nearby wall, throwing off the melting armor that was already eating through his scales.

The door he was leaning against started to become hot, with the eye of his imagination he could see the creature's blazing eyes staring at him from behind the wall.

He jumped back, panting heavily and patting his stinging snout, feeling thick lumps of scorched scale there already. Not even the armor protected him from those flames.

They burned with the soul wrenching strength of the Dark Realms.

This is no salvation my friend.

This is the force of damnation.

He only hoped that history will remember it as something that was coming to that mole anyway.