The fire burned.
Burned his skin from the bones.
Made him scream.
It tore him apart.
And the pain.
How bones grew.
Connected again.
How scraps of skin laid on flesh.
And how his heart began to beat again.
How death let him fall.
Yet the darkness held him.
Ruigh startled awake.
Out of the darkness.
Gasping, he clung to the blanket of the bed.
He lay in a room.
No fire.
Sweat ran down his forehead.
Down his back.
He was drenched in sweat.
"In safety," he whispered to himself. "I am in safety."
How could that be.
He had been torn apart.
Burned by the fire.
Ruigh felt his upper body.
The shoulder that had been ripped away.
It was there.
He uncovered himself fully.
Also his legs.
Everything was there.
How could that be he thought.
He inspected his body again.
His arms.
His torso.
His legs.
And suddenly he understood.
It had been Logic Manipulation.
"Of course," he murmured.
He must have used his power subconsciously.
And manipulated the logic of the wounds so they would heal instantly.
He breathed out in relief and leaned back.
Yet something was missing.
There was something.
Something he did not understand.
A black spot in his memories.
He grabbed his head with his hands and rubbed his forehead.
Tried to remember.
There was something.
One thing that did not fit.
But suddenly a thought struck him.
What about Uhra.
He must not.
He jumped up and ran to the door.
He fell out of the door.
Ran down the hallway.
Nothing must have happened to him.
Not Uhra.
The hallway lay before him.
Dark and cold.
He leaned against the wall.
Gasped.
His head throbbed.
The pain was terrible.
It ate into him.
Slowly he sank to the floor.
Held his head.
What if he was dead?
What if everything would start all over again?
Naked fear gripped him.
While the unbearable pain tormented him.
His sight faded.
And blurred.
He curled up.
His body trembled.
His eyes grew dim.
Ruigh clutched the place where his heart was beating.
His fingers dug into the fabric.
A terrible cold slid over him.
Nested inside him.
Made his heart freeze.
While he trembled uncontrollably.
"Please," he whispered.
"Live, Uhra."
Suddenly a surprised gasp.
Someone shoved him roughly with their foot.
And a voice asked,
laced with surprise and mockery,
"Hey kid, why are you lying around?"
It sounded muffled.
Through the veil of hopelessness.
"Hey."
Someone grabbed him by the shoulders.
"Still alive or do I need to bury you?"
Someone shook him.
Ruigh groaned.
Slowly opened them.
His eyes.
A young man knelt before him.
Mid-twenties.
And looked at him with raised eyebrows.
With a wide grin.
Ruigh froze.
The cold receded.
The terrible fear crumbled.
A quiet laugh of relief.
Soft and broken.
Escaped from him.
Uhra grinned broadly.
"Of course I'm alive."
He leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially,
"My smile is immortal."
He paused.
His grin grew wider.
"Wait, don't tell me you worried yourself sick, collapsed because you thought I, the great Uhra, was dead?"
Ruigh's face darkened.
"Of course not," he growled.
Uhra laughed.
"Whatever, come on — you've got a lot to catch up on."
Ruigh, eyes wide in surprise, held the cup of tea in his hand.
"Only 14 survivors."
Uhra nodded.
Shrugged his shoulders.
His eyes flickered mischievously.
"Yeah, the first seven were slaughtered brutally."
He grinned.
"And our two companions, Kento and Ned, well… unfortunately they didn't make it."
He sighed with feigned melancholy.
"With Ned, it's especially tragic. Seems he had a little son.
The boy's going to an orphanage now."
Ruigh rolled his eyes in annoyance.
Sipped at the tea.
"That's funny, Uhra."
Uhra raised his hands defensively.
"Did I laugh?"
"Yes," Ruigh growled.
Uhra grinned.
"Oops."
Ruigh ignored him.
Settled into the armchair and placed the teacup on the coffee table.
They were in the common room of their base.
That is, the family house.
"We need to figure out who we're even fighting against,"
he muttered.
Uhra grinned.
"Completely agree."
He leaned forward.
"But tell me, how is it that you're still standing?"
He eyed Ruigh.
"You were pretty torn apart."
Ruigh looked down at himself.
"Logic Manipulation."
Uhra chuckled softly.
"Of course. What else."
Ruigh studied him.
"And you, why are you still alive?"
Uhra grinned.
"I pulled myself into my own dimension. Impressed?"
"No, not really," Ruigh murmured dryly.
Uhra snickered.
"Anyway, those attackers in the enemy base — they were like the ones who attacked us before."
Ruigh nodded seriously.
"You're right."
Uhra laughed in satisfaction.
"Yeah, now Aren has to admit it — I was right."
Ruigh froze.
Aren.
It had something to do with Aren.
That suppressed black void in his memories.
Previously pushed aside.
Now it began to pulse.
The darkness grew.
Slid through his head.
Ruigh groaned.
"Something with Aren," he murmured.
Uhra, just about to take a sip of his beer, froze.
"What is it?" he mumbled.
Ruigh quickly shook his head.
"Nothing. Just a few memory gaps."
Uhra burst out laughing and jumped up.
"Then it's fine. Rest up, I'm off."
He left the room.
Left Ruigh behind.
With questions.
And darkness.