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|—[ Lumberyard ]—|
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The forest was silent, save for the sound of Tamrin's axe biting into the tree. Each strike drove the blade deeper, sending splinters from the tree scattering across the floor. His muscles screamed with every swing, but he ignored the pain, forcing himself to strike harder. Sweat mingled with the cold air as he swung again, his grip tightening around the handle of the axe.
Eventually, exhaustion caught up with him. His arms gave out, and with a final cry, he collapsed to the ground, panting. Tears blurred his vision as he stared at the tree, still standing tall before him.
“Damn it all!” he growled, his voice low and ragged as his hands balled into fists, his knuckles whitening under the strain. A few nearby workers glanced his way, but he ignored them.
The wind rustled through the leaves, a sound so soft and indifferent it felt like a cruel joke. Tamrin wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, smearing dirt across his face. "Why won't you just fall?" he wheezed, his voice cracking. He wanted to destroy something, anything, if only to feel like he had some semblance of control.
"You're going to hurt yourself by swinging like that," a familiar voice said.
It was Alen, one of the older workers. His tone wasn't mocking, just matter-of-fact. He crouched down beside Tamrin, his hands resting on his knees as his sharp eyes studied the battered axe lying in the dirt, its handle still wet with sweat.
“I don’t need your advice,” Tamrin muttered, not meeting his gaze.
Alen didn’t reply right away. Instead, he picked up the axe, turning it over in his hands as his eyes studied the battered blade. “The edge is dull as a river stone,” he said after a moment. “Even if you’d swung all day, it wouldn’t have made much of a difference. Honestly, getting this far with the tree is impressive considering your stature. I only expected someone like Marcus or that fiend to be able to do that,” he said pointing at the tree.
Tamrin scowled, his hands tightening into fists again. "I wasn’t asking for a lesson, and I don’t care about what Marcus or the fiend can do," he snapped, dragging himself to his feet. His legs felt like lead, but he refused to show weakness.
“Then what do you care about? Because whatever it is, it’s not cutting down that tree.” He stood as well, hefting the axe and resting it against his shoulder.
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Tamrin glared at him, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Why do you care? Shouldn’t you be off working instead of lecturing me?”
Alen took a moment to think, his face shifting through a series of expressions before finally relenting. “You’re right,” he said with a small shrug, his voice light but tinged with a hint of humor. “I should be off working.”
He turned as if to leave, but paused, glancing back at Tamrin. “Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t think about what I said, though,” he said. Then, with a nod, he strode off without waiting for a response from Tamrin.
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|—[ kaius ]—|
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The howling wind tore at Kaius's clothes as he trudged through the deepening snow, his boots leaving heavy prints on the ground as he went. The storm had picked up since he'd left his cabin, turning what should have been a normal walk into a battle against nature itself. Through the swirling white, Marcus's lumber yard was still a good distance away, barely visible through the thick curtain of snow that would have blotted out his vision had it not been for his demonic eyes.
The scales beneath his skin stirred restlessly, responding to the cold in a way that made his jaw clench. Grunting, he forced them back down, focusing instead on the crunch of the snow beneath his feet and the wind that howled past his ears as he moved.
The wind roared like a living beast, slamming into him with enough force to steal his breath. Snow swirled around him in blinding, chaotic spirals, clawing at his face and slipping under the collar of his coat. His boots sank into the drifts, the world turning into a blur of white and gray. The storm swallowed sound and sight alike, reducing everything to a suffocating white.
His gloved hands trembled as he pulled his scarf tighter, but the biting cold seeped through, numbing his fingers. The storm hissed against his ears, drowning out the crunch of snow beneath his feet. Each breath burned in his chest, like shards of glass scraping down his throat.
The lumberyard was little more than a shadow in the distance, flickering in and out of view as the gusts shifted. The air around him sizzled for a brief moment, glowing faintly before exploding into fire. The flames spiraled into tendrils, twisting and writhing around him as if they were alive. His reptilian scales shifted underneath his skin, fighting against the cold while the flames tried to warm him. He growled under his breath, forcing them back down with sheer will, his jaw tightening until it ached.
The dark haze at the back of his eyes crept closer, swallowing his vision as he stumbled, his legs buckling beneath him. He collapsed to the ground with a groan, his whole body wracked with pain. "Please..." he wheeze, his trembling fingers clawing at the earth. His nails began to elongate, curving into talons as his hands twisted unnaturally. A sharp, wet crack echoed through the air as his back split open, skin and muscle tearing to reveal grotesque, blackened wings that unfurled with a sickening squelch.
A strangled scream tore from his throat as his ribcage burst through his chest, each bone splintering his flesh as blood soaked the ground beneath him, his body convulsing as it slowly and painfully reshaped itself.
He attempted to fight against the transformation, his mind screaming for control even as his body betrayed him. A sudden, brutal force struck his stomach like a sledgehammer, driving the air from his lungs. The howling wind around him seemed to pause, muffled by the ringing in his ears as he crumpled to the ground.
“AGHHHHHHH”
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|—[ Lumberyard ]—|
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Knock Knock knock knock!!!
“Hum? Who is it?” Marcus mumbled groggily, rubbing his eyes as he rose from his seat. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the room. He padded across the cold stone floor, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the worn rug beneath him. As he approached the door, his hand reached out, his fingers brushing the cool metal of the handle.
With a slow exhale, Marcus turned the handle and pulled the door open.
“Shit” Marcus muttered under his breath, his eyes widening in alarm as his hand shot out instinctively for his ax. But before he could grasp the handle, a force slammed into him from the doorway. He staggered back, his body slamming into the stone wall with a sickening crunch. His ax flew from his grip, spinning through the air and clattering to the far side of the room with a heavy thud.
End