#near death

[whump-galaxy]

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care if you believe me. Only leader’s opinion matters. There’s a rat in our midst, and I’m going to seek them out.”

“It’s not going to make leader believe you either. It not like they care whether we live or die anyway.”

“But this rat clearly wants us to die. Leader, at the very least, has self preservation instincts.”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“No, not ever.”

“Fine. Where do we start?”

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Ghosts Like That

|| Parallel Powder x fem!reader

|| Warnings; season two episode seven spoilers, reader has PTSD about the heist, descriptions of PTSD and anxiety, brief swearing, hurt/comfort/fluff

|| Summary; when reader finds herself back in memories she would rather forget, Powder helps her back to the present.

Requests closed!

Started; December 16th

Finished; December 17th

HurtCember2024; Day 14, Near Death

~~~

It's been years since you nearly got caught in that explosion along with Vi. Years. You weren't even close to being over it. You'd almost died. That was... well, the closest thing to a near death experience you'd ever had. It was terrifying. You were just a kid. It still haunted you in your dreams. Seared into your mind as though it had just happened in the present moment. Ghosts like that never really leave.

You'd been up working in your girlfriend's workshop. She often let you tinker with the bits she wasn't going to use. Who was she to stop a creative mind, after all? You caught a flicker of a blue flash from a spark and suddenly you were back in that fancy piltover workshop. Your breathing picked up, the sound of an explosion ringing between your ears. Your eyes teared up and you cupped the side of your head. Screaming to get out the overstimulation you were feeling. Or, at least trying to get it out. Your whole body buzzed with phantom pain. A jitter to your bones you couldn't quite shake.

Powder had just gotten home after visiting with Vander and Silco at the bar. Humming happily to herself. Until your scream cut through the air. Panic flared inside her chest, adrenaline spiking. She burst the door open so fast she was shocked it didn't go flying. Her heart sank at the sight of you; her legs moving before her mind could catch up. In no time at all, she had you in her arms. Cradling you. Holding you close with care. Fearing to make it worse.

"Shh, shh, you're okay. Just breathe. You're at the workshop. Breathe. Feel the seat under you," Powder tried desperately to ground you. It wasn't her first time handling the PTSD you had. She'd come to learn your triggers and the methods that helped calm you.

You could faintly hear your girlfriend talking. But you couldn't see her. Not- her her, anyway. You saw little Powder. The workshop. Little Powder trying to talk to you and ease you through it. This- wasn't how the memory went. The realization of that is what helped you to start grounding yourself. Slowly, the fancy workshop around you faded. Replaced with the familiar one you'd grown to find comfort in. The colours. The work bench. The art work on the walls that was a combination of both yours and Powder's drawings. Heck, even Mylo got around to sticking one up of himself. It was terribly drawn and you couldn't help but chuckle looking at. Even in your state.

Powder looked down at you, following your eyes to the picture Mylo had put up recently. She smirked, her thumb brushing your arm," Mylo isn't the best artist in the world, is he?" Powder asked. Hoping the picture would make for the perfect distraction for you.

You shook your head, leaning into her chest," no. I've seen better drawings from kids," you laughed. Powder eased at the sound. You were laughing, that was a good sign. Even if it was at Mylo's expense.

"Yeah, I can't tell if that's supposed to be his arm or his head," Powder pointed to the art. Squinting her eyes to get a better look. Maybe it was a blaster of some sort? Fuck if she knew.

"Pfft, he looks more like a spider than a Mylo," you smirked at your own comment. Powder burst out laughing, nodding in agreement to you. He did, didn't he? He could have presented the drawing as a spider and she would have fully believed it.

Powder's eyes focused back on you. Her expression softened, admiring the little crinkle next to your eye. Caused by the smile on your lips. You turned around pretty quickly this time. Maybe that was a sign of it getting better? Powder sure hoped so. She didn't like seeing you in pain, "How you feeling?" She asked, being careful not to trigger you again.

"Better," you murmured. Snuggling up to your girlfriend in the chair. Eyes still on Mylo's picture. Who knew a poorly drawn Mylo would have been what helped calm you down?

"Good," Powder gave you a gentle kiss. Your lips moving against hers in slow, practiced movements. The last of the memory fading from your mind. Hoping that it wouldn't be back any time soon.

[where-is-my-whump]

Hudson and Rex 6x07

[whump-imagines]

Pizza Party

Kelly x reader

WC: 1200 or so

A day late for @hurtcember day 14 Near Death

--

Movement on the apron caught Joe’s attention. He looked over to spot two legs and a mountain of pizza boxes.

“Someone order lunch?” said a feminine voice from behind the tower of cardboard.

Kelly looked up just in time for her to poke her head out to the side of her stack. “Hey, you! I didn't know you were coming by today.” He stood and took half the stack to hand off to Joe before taking the rest himself.

After leaning in for a quick kiss, she explained. “I was bored. Figured I'd bring some lunch.”

Capp chimed in from his spot at the squad table. “How many people are you planning to feed?”

Y/N laughed. “Too much pizza is always best. Who doesn't love leftovers?”

They headed inside and toward the kitchen. “Lunch!” she announced loudly. “I've got deep dish, thin crust, meat lovers, veggie lovers, pineapple, and one extra cheese.”

There were cheers and chair legs scraping across the floor as everyone quickly lined up to get the pizza.

Mouch scoffed. “Who eats plain cheese?”

Kelly laughed as he wrapped his now free arm around Y/N. “She does. The pineapple one is also for her.”

“I'm with her on that one.” Mills chimed in, “Pineapple on pizza is good.”

“Yes! Thank you!” She lifted her hand for him to high five. “But don't eat it all. It's my dinner for later, too.”

As everyone started to settle at the table with their food, Sylvie entered. “Hey! Severide didn't tell us you were coming today.” She pulled Y/N into a firm hug.

“He didn't know. I decided to surprise everyone,” she explained, squeezing Sylvie tight.

They both made a plate and sat down at the table with everyone. She picked the spot next to Kelly and he leaned over and kissed her.

“Thanks for coming. Love you.”

“I love you, too.” Y/N smiled at him.

An hour later, as Y/N began to combine pizzas into fewer boxes, she wobbled as she was overcome with light headedness. She grasped the counter to steady herself.

Nearly instantly, Kelly was at her side. “You alright?”

She nodded. “I think so. Just got a little woozy.”

Kelly wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “How about we go sit down for a minute.”

She took a step toward the couch then collapsed. Kelly caught her in time to prevent her from hitting the ground. “Whoa, hey, Y/N!”

Mills was beside him a moment later. “Lay her down.”

Once Kelly had laid her gently on the floor, Peter leaned down to check her breathing then pressed his fingers to her neck to check her pulse. “No pulse. Brett!”

Sylvie was already running toward the ambulance for the jump bag and monitor.

“No, no, no. You stay with me, Y/N.” Kelly pleaded, taking her hand in his. “You hear me?” He watched in horror as Peter started chest compressions.

Sylvie was back quickly and kneeling beside Kelly. “I need you to back up so we can work.”

Matt bent down and grabbed Kelly’s shoulder to pull him away. “They've got her.”

“What the hell even just happened?” Kelly wiped tears off his face. “She was just fine and then–” He couldn't even finish his sentence.

Sylvie had hooked her up to the monitor and defibrillator pads while Peter continued compressions. “Stop compressions.”

“Still no pulse,” Peter announced.

“She's in v-fib,” said Sylvie. She pressed a button to charge the defibrillator. “Clear.”

When she pressed the button to discharge the shock, Y/N arched off the ground and Kelly squatted like he could manage to stay standing any longer.

Peter watched the monitor. “Still in v-fib.” He resumed compressions. “Let's try again.”

Sylvie nodded. “Charging to 360. Clear.”

Peter raised his hands as Sylvie discharged another shock.

The monitor beeped. Slowly at first then quicker and the entire room breathed a sigh of relief.

“Sinus rhythm,” Sylvie pointed out.

Peter nodded. “Pulse is strong. Let's get her to Med.”

As they lifted her to the stretcher, she groaned. Kelly ran a hand softly over her head. “Can you open your eyes, sweetheart?”

She whimpered. “Ow.”

“What hurts?” Sylvie asked.

She slowly opened her eyes. Looking around she frowned, “What happened?”

Kelly brushed hair back from her face. “You collapsed. Mills and Brett are going to take you to the hospital.”

“Why does my chest hurt?”

They all headed towards the ambulance as Kelly explained. “Uh, your heart stopped. They had to do CPR.”

“What?” She gaped at him.

“It's going to be okay,” Kelly tried to soothe. “The doctors will figure out what happened. Just try to relax.”

They quickly loaded her into the ambulance and Peter headed to the front to drive. Kelly held her hand tightly, like he was afraid to let go.

Sylvie was sitting beside Kelly. She started an IV and wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her arm. Finally, she placed a nasal cannula in her nose for oxygen.

Y/N took a deep breath trying to calm herself and winced.

“What's the matter?” Kelly asked.

“It hurts to breathe.” She whimpered. “Kel, I'm scared.”

“I know. You'll be okay,” he said. “Connor will figure out what happened.”

Sylvie twisted a syringe into the IV port. “I'm giving you some fentanyl for the pain. That should help, okay?”

Almost instantly she felt some relief from the chest pain.

A moment later, they pulled up to the emergency entrance and the back doors were pulled open.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Connor greeted as he helped unload you. “What happened?” The question was directed at Sylvie.

“Sudden cardiac arrest. Nothing happened, she just collapsed,” Sylvie explained, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice. She gave a run down of vitals and advised that she'd given fentanyl before Y/N was shifted to the hospital bed.

“Okay. Let's get a CBC, BMP, cardiac enzymes, 12-lead EKG, and a chest x-ray,” Connor ordered.

The next few hours went by in a whirlwind of pokes and tests and nurses with vitals checks. Kelly was sitting beside her bed holding her hand while she fought the pull of sleep.

“I'm so tired.”

He ran a hand over her head and kissed her forehead. “Get some rest. I'll wake you if Connor comes back with anything.”

“I–I'm scared to fall asleep.”

He squeezed her hand. “You can sleep. I promise you're safe. I won't let anything happen to you.”

Before she could succumb to sleep, Connor came into the room. “Well, I have the answer. You have something called long QT syndrome,” he started to explain. “We need to run a few more tests tomorrow so we can figure out what the best course of treatment is. So for now, we’ll get you moved up to a room and you just get some rest.”

“What kind of treatments?” she asked.

“Medication or an implanted defibrillator or some combination.”

When he left you started googling on your phone. Kelly stole your phone from your hand. “That's never a good idea. Just get some sleep, okay?”

She sighed. “Fine. I'll try.” Trying to get comfortable, she closed her eyes trying to get some sleep before another round of testing.

The last thing she heard was Kelly whispering, “Thank you for not leaving me.”

[vertigoartgore]

1989's Uncanny X-Men Vol.1 #251 cover by penciller Marc Silvestri and inker Dan Green. Black & White version provided by Raymond Low.

[voidwhump]

Inspired by this

Ingredients: Injury, implied infection, heat stroke, falling off of a horse, near death. ~600 words

Back. 

Forth.

Back.

Forth.

Horses weren’t all that fast when they didn’t feel like they had to be. They were at the mercy of the rhythm of the horse’s walk, using all their strength to stay upright. The sun baked their neck and scalp. Every motion refreshed the pain of their tired muscles. 

Aggravated the throbbing ache behind their eyes.

Stoked the smoldering fire radiating from the hole in their side.

The horse could tell they weren’t all there, stopping occasionally, unconvinced her rider knew where they were going. So, energy they didn’t have went into kicking the horse back into a walk. And the cycle repeated. 

And repeated. 

And repeated. 

As the horse slowed to a stop, again, they took a moment to drag their head up to where they could look forward instead of down. Their body protested as it was pulled out of its forward slump, every muscle supporting the motion threatening to fail. They closed their eyes against it. Breathed. Felt the breeze against their sweat covered face and neck.

When they opened their eyes, they could just barely make out the silhouette of a village ahead, sitting low to the ground against the horizon. They weren’t going to make it, they could tell. But maybe they could make it to somewhere someone would see them. Even if it was only their dead body. So, with every part of their body displaying a ticking clock, ten minutes to failure, five minutes to failure, they continued. 

Three minutes.

Two minutes.

One minute.

They felt the exact moment when their core gave up. Strained muscles abruptly went slack without their authority behind it. It was their uninjured side finally betraying them, overworked from hours of holding double its usual load. That was the side they fell towards, their opposite foot briefly catching on the stirrup, iron on leather, giving them one more instant in the saddle as the horse stopped again, for the last time that day. They had the brief presence of mind to free their other foot from its stirrup as well. 

After that, the fall was over with quickly. They hit the ground shoulder first, the joint audibly crunching as it impacted. The pain immediately blended with all of their other hurts. They lay there, breathing. It was better, being on the ground. A lot of them didn’t hurt so much anymore now that they weren’t trying to do anything. The dust blowing off the dirt road stuck to their exposed skin. Their sweat washed some of it away, dripping to the ground in their peripheral vision. 

The wind blew again.

They lay there, sweating.

The wind blew again.

Eventually, they weren’t sweating anymore. What was left on them dried quickly, and they missed the cooling feeling. The sun was setting now, so at least they wouldn’t be so hot soon. They hoped the horse had found some water. 

They could use some water.

The sun set. It seemed faster than normal. They might not be the most conscious at the moment.

Or they were mistaken. Light flickered across the ground ahead of them, in and out of their field of view. 

In and out. 

Getting closer. 

In and out.

In their eyes. That was annoying. 

Something pushed them on to their back. Their body screamed. They didn’t say much.

They were lifted, which felt almost as bad, but at least they were back in their slightly curled position. Whatever picked them up had a much smoother walk than the horse, too. They faded out again soon enough.

[whump-galaxy]

The team is captured and lined up in front of their captors. The most defiant among them, of course, cannot keep their mouth shut. They mock, taunt, and jeer till one captor has had enough.

They grab the whumpee by the throat, asking if they really want to die like this. The whumpee bares their teeth with a defiant smile.

And spits directly in the captor’s face.

[sandimexicola]

Yet still some life remains.

[where-is-my-whump]

Hudson and Rex 6x05

[steviewashere]

hello!! steddie and 38 for the kiss prompt?? 💕

Hey, hey! <3 As a heads up, you might hate me for this. Everybody might hate me for this, lol. But here we go <3

Number 38: "Because they're running out of time."

CW: Eddie Munson Nearly Dies Here Tags: Season 4, Canon Divergence, Childhood Friends Steddie, Friends to Strangers to Friends?, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Love Confession, Near Death

🕰️—————🕰️ When they structured the plan to go back into the Upside Down, Nancy had suggested that Eddie and Dustin team up for the demobats. Now, Steve loves Nancy—not in that way—but he thought that that was one of the dumbest things he’d ever heard come from her mouth. And she’s incredibly intelligent, like mad scientist level intelligent, surpassing everybody on this earth kind of intelligent.

“Dustin should go with Lucas and Max,” he argued, “and I’ll stay with Eddie.”

The room had fallen silent. Until, Robin piped up, “But we’re going to need your pitching arm, Steve. That—We need somebody to throw the molotov cocktails.”

He scoffed. “No, you don’t. Robs, you used to play softball before getting on the soccer team. You two will be perfectly fine without me. And, besides, if things go haywire—Abort. Walkie on your channel, and we’ll fucking take our losses and replan all this bullshit.”

While the room had erupted into an intense argumentative cadence, Steve held his ground. Looked to Eddie. To his panicked eyes that had not once calmed since they met—again.

Steve knew what he was getting into when they found Eddie. They hadn’t been friendly and sweet on each other since middle school. Since being little kids, but that didn’t mean Steve wouldn’t at least try again. That he wouldn’t put up a fight and demand to be put in Eddie’s corner. So he held onto this, held out on this change in plans, because Eddie looked back on the sofa. He looked to Steve with something like…longing. Like he wanted to reach out and take Steve’s hand. And if the room hadn’t been full of people that just wouldn’t understand, Steve would’ve taken the plunge. He would’ve indulged.

He should’ve indulged, now that he’s kneeled on the ground in a pile of limp demobat bodies. Eddie is in his arms, blood soaked and babbling. And Steve wishes they could start again.

“Keep looking at me, Eds,” he pleads, “look at me and…and tell me one of your stories. You’re good at that. Can you do that?”

For a moment, Eddie’s breath catches. And in those grave seconds, Steve thinks it's over. He brings his hand, which was laying over Eddie’s waist, and places it on his chest. On Eddie’s slow beating heart and his rattling lungs. And he presses. As if, by his touch alone, Eddie would continue to live.

Steve wants him to live. Wants to get him out of here. Get him to safety and hold him and clean his hair and go swimming in Lover’s Lake like they did as kids over the summer. Take Eddie by the hand and go hiking through the woods, turn over every rotting branch to look at worms, and be gifted with rocks Eddie deems cool enough. Ride their bikes until their legs ache and their stomachs are sick and they’re craving lemonade and cookies. Wants to love on him forever because he was a fool; gave it all up for…what…popularity?

Eddie gasps wetly. Coughs up blood from the back of his throat, it drips sluggishly down his chin. Instinctively, Steve cradles his jaw and wipes it all away. Until it’s tacky and red on his own skin. Then, Eddie’s eyes sweep over to him. He blinks. Cries silently. And states, quiet enough for only mice to hear, “’86 is going to be my year, Stevie.”

“Yeah?” Steve prods, breathless and on the verge of crying himself. He thumbs at Eddie’s tears. “Tell me, Eds. Tell me how it’s gonna be your year.”

Another rattling, wet breath. “Graduate,” Eddie mutters, “and…and play with the band. I was—G’nna go to y’r house. Give…Give you a sunflower. You…My S’v’ie likes flowers.” He stares up at Steve, but Steve doesn’t feel very looked at. Like maybe Eddie’s seeing something beyond him, above him. He bites his lip and cradles Eddie’s jaw again.

“I do,” Steve whispers, “I loved when you gave me flowers, Eds.”

He sniffs and tries not to think about the dried petals of flowers he kept over the years. Ones that he stashed away in old books given to him by Wayne. That reside in his dresser drawers and in a cardboard box in his closet. Tries not to think about taking Eddie home with him, after all this is over, and showing him all the things he kept.

How, in moments where Steve felt lost, he pulled out the rocks and books and other trinkets, and wondered. Where Eddie was. What he was doing. Why he forced himself away from the only friend, sans Robin, that felt real.

“S’eve?” Eddie weakly calls.

He only hums, pressing his thumb deep into the going cold skin of Eddie’s right cheek.

Eddie reaches a clumsy hand up to Steve’s face, but doesn’t quite reach. So Steve ducks closer. Lets Eddie pull him in towards his face. Wipe away his own tears. Caress the few moles by his ear.

“I love you,” Eddie breathes. Inhales with a gurgle and Steve sobs in turn. “Love you, S’eve. Wanted…Been wantin’ you for forever.”

“Eds…”

In one fell swoop, Eddie pulls Steve in all the way. Noses along Steve’s. Then, with the strength of a newborn deer, he presses his lips to Steve’s. They’re slick with blood and drying tears. Chapped, split at the corners. He moves slowly while Steve tries not to devour. Eddie’s hand drapes over the back of Steve’s neck, neither grasping nor safe anymore. But he kisses. Like…

Like it’s the last time he’ll ever do it.

Maybe it is, Steve realizes in those few seconds. Because Eddie’s breath grows shallower, raspier between them. He gurgles blood into Steve’s mouth. And that’s tasted on Steve’s tongue, metallic and sweet and harmful. Maybe it doesn’t need to be.

Steve forces them apart. Lets Eddie try and drag him back, but doesn’t go back to that kiss. “Save…Save it, Eds,” Steve begs, “Save it for when we’re home and—I can show you how much I love you, too, okay? Can you—“

“Can’t,” Eddie slurs, “I…S’v’ie.”

He presses another soft kiss, this time to Steve’s thumb, where it’s still close to the split corner of his mouth. But he doesn’t look back.

“S’v’ie, love you.”

“I love you, too, Eds,” Steve murmurs meekly. “I’ll take you home, okay? I can—“ He takes a sharp gasp, sobbing through an exhale. “—Kiss me tonight. You stay with me and kiss me,” his voice wavers, “kiss me like we were never apart.”

“‘M’kay.”

“Okay, Eds,” Steve sighs, crying softly, “okay.”

Though it pulls on all his injuries, Steve hefts them up off the ground. Grimaces at Eddie’s pained yelp. And moves one foot after the other. They can’t be running out of time, Steve tries to digest.

Because he just got his boy back. They can’t be. I can’t be, Steve believes, hefting Eddie’s nearly limp body through the portal. I won’t.

🕰️—————🕰️ Kiss Ask Game <3

[tsubaki94]

21 Blod loss/ Near Death Experience

Ai-less whumptober

[whumperofworlds]

Caretaker beaten close to death, as Whumpee watched in horror. Caretaker looks up at Whumpee and tells them:

"Run."

Whumpee did run... to the fight to protect Caretaker.

[whump-galaxy]

“I don’t like you, but I’m not gonna let you die here.”

“Why? You think you’re some hero for saving me?”

“No, if you’re gonna die, it’ll be because I killed you myself. Not some leg infection.”

[melpomenelamusa]

The Chosen One - Light & Darkness

~Original story~

Hurtcember DAY 14: Near death

CW: Child abuse (implied), attempted murder of minor, eye whump (non explicit), fantasy whump.

Today was the big day. Ichkat could feel it in his bones, in the core of his consciousness: Today would be the day he would save his people.

Ichkat was always a special child. The Leaders said he was born with the “Gift of Light,” which was why his hair was white as the morning light, his skin was pale as the color of clouds, and his eyes were two shining rubies.

“The Chosen One who will save us has been born, as the prophecy says!”

Ichkat never knew his parents. The Leaders said that a hero like him should be raised by the best warriors and wisest scholars of the community. He didn’t need parents or a family.

“You were born to save us.”

“Save you from what?”

“From Darkness.”

The Leaders told him the stories: Every time the sun set below the horizon, darkness fell over the village. This is when the rule of Tajtzin Kunyua, the Lord of Darkness, began. With his giant cloak he covered the brightness of the moon and stars. With his icy hands he made the bodies of the helpless shiver. He made the sighted go blind and clouded the judgment of the clever. He forced people to seek refuge inside their homes, in constant fear of not closing a door or window properly, and thus allowing darkness to enter their dwellings and suffocate them.

"But there is salvation! One day a child will be born blessed with the light of day. He will be the antithesis of darkness itself. He will face the Lord of Darkness and kill him, freeing us all from his reign of terror.”

That child was Ishkat.

Ichkat had always dreamed of this day, the day when he would finally fulfill his destiny. It took many years of exhaustive training under the sunlight that irritated his eyes and burned his skin, resting only until his muscles tore or his body succumbed to complete exhaustion, to prepare himself.

And now that he had turned fifteen, just as the prophecy said, he was ready to face his enemy.

He unsheathed his sword and held it firmly in his hands.

"Come out of your hiding place, Lord of Darkness!" the boy exclaimed. "I have come to challenge you to a duel."

The wasteland remained silent and empty. A pair of crows answered his call, cawing from the zigzagging branch of an old, dead tree. The sun was about to disappear on the horizon behind him, and in front of him a wall of darkness began to rise like smoke.

“Come out now, damn it!” Ichkat shouted. He tried to express the nervousness that began to eat away at his insides as fury.

A deep, spectral laugh echoed from somewhere in the celestial vault, where the shadows were densest.

“Did those cowards send a child to solve their problems?”

Suddenly a man materialized. His black skin gave off small sparkles, as if he were made of granite. A long, inky tunic delicately wrapped his body. A cascade of pitch-colored hair fell from his head, and on his severe face there were abysmal eyes.

Ichkat felt his legs begin to tremble, but he swallowed and adjusted his position.

"I am not a child, I am the Chosen One, and today I will destroy you so that my people can live in peace.”

The creature laughed again. His laughter was compared to the cawing of crows.

“You are very brave and very stupid, little one. No one can defeat me.”

The man spread his arms and his cloak seemed to form the wings of a bat. The sun's rays finished disappearing, absorbed by the earth, and in its place only a dark gray sky remained. Everything beyond the wasteland disappeared, and the moon above them created a circle of light, delimiting the battle scene.

"Go home," said the Lord of Darkness, in a mocking voice. "Go before a wild beast appears and devours you."

The boy did not move. His eyebrows contracted further towards the center of his forehead. Everyone in the village had faith in him. If he failed, he would not be able to look them in the face, knowing that he had allowed a monstrous being like this to continue to run loose and torment them.

“No,” he said, solid as a mountain.

The Lord of Darkness looked disappointed. He held out his hand. The earth turned black and bubbling, and a huge obsidian sword rose from it.

“If you want to die so badly, then I will not hold back.”

In the blink of an eye, the creature disappeared and reappeared just inches from Ichkat. He barely managed to jump back to avoid his enemy’s attack. He backed away, taking a deep breath and preparing for combat. This is what he had trained for. This is what he had been born for.

He gripped the hilt of his sword tightly and ran. He leapt, aiming for his enemy's head, but the man blocked the blow with his blade, causing sparks to fly. The constant clink of the clashing swords created a dissonant music, mixed with the occasional cawing of the crows and Ichkat's heavy breathing. The Lord of Darkness was fast and strong, each blow so powerful that it made Ichkat's teeth shake. Soon his arms felt too heavy to hold his own weapon, and his legs felt too weak to bear their own weight.

In a clumsy movement he stumbled and could not dodge the attack. The obsidian blade made a cut over his left eye.

Ichkat screamed. A river of blood slid down half of his face. He was half blind, and the pain caused his general vision to blur with tears, barely making out the space in front of him.

He heard the laughter again.

"Go, boy. Your life is in my hands, and if you do not want to lose it, I advise you to accept my mercy and leave.”

Ichkat compressed the panic that overwhelmed him and buried it deep in his heart. Suddenly he felt the fabric of the Lord of Darkness' robe brush against his arm and a voice whispered in his ear.

"You are not a Chosen One.”

Those words fueled the fire of his courage, and with a cry, Ichkat drove his sword into the middle of his enemy's chest. It seemed that time stood still. The boy inhaled and exhaled, tasting only blood and soot. The creature stumbled, with the hilt protruding from his heart.

"I did it!" Ichkat thought, but his relief was short-lived. The Lord of Darkness stood up and ripped the weapon from his body with the ease of removing the seed from a fruit. His black eyes suddenly looked like two hungry wells. He threw himself at Ichkat, grabbed him by the neck and lifted him up. His long, cold fingers dug into the boy's throat, blocking the passage of precious oxygen. Ichkat kicked in the air, but his strength was quickly fading, robbing him of consciousness and breath. If he didn't do something, he was going to die. He was going to die...

In a last desperate attempt, he pulled the knife from his belt and threw it forward. If he had still had both eyes, it was very likely that he would have hit his target at that distance, but since that was not the case, he missed by several centimeters. The weapon bounced off the ground and lay motionless and useless.

"Let this serve as an example for the people of your village," the sinister man muttered. "So that they will never believe that they can kill me again."

And with those words, he threw Ichkat up the hill. The boy's body flew like a ropeless kite until he crashed against the wall of earth and rock. The material cracked and the hill collapsed with the simplicity of a mound of sand. Ichkat was buried under the enormous stones. Something colossal and heavy crushed his legs.

The boy could barely breathe. In his mouth there was only the bitter taste of his blood and the saltiness of the tears that fell down his cheeks. He could not move his body and total darkness swallowed him, leaving him blind and paralyzed.

Buried as he was, it was only a matter of time before he found out what would kill him first: his wounds, suffocation, hunger or fear. He just hoped it would be quick.

His mission had failed, and therefore, he deserved to die.

Ichkat wished to die.

Unfortunately for him, that wish would not be granted.

Next

A new story! This will be a very short one, ending with this year's Hurtcember. If you've read this far, thank you so much! 🌙