The air became dry, desolate, with a seperation from the outside like the border of a rain cloud, the sensation brought newly arised queeziness, almost an intoxicating feeling. As Ezekiel approached his destination with Wither out of his range of thinking for the time being, his brows furrowed and his expression became that of unsureness. The feeling was becoming inchingly more sickeneing, the hair on his forearms and the back of his neck rose, goosebumps arrayed from all sides. Ezekiel's senses began dulling, it's a sort of feeling that makes you want to pass out, like that of a complete drunken stupor. Fighting against drowsniness, Ezekiel treaded foward while losing feeling in the limbs he was depending on to run in reach of the one thing that may turn his situation around. With a blind faith in this obscure and vast aura, believing that it's power must be the key, Ezekiel was nearing the center of darkness akin to nothingness.
Ezekiel: "Wow, coming this close, is dangerous. But... I can't stop."
Pressure was emanating off of the dagger, warping all the magic in the vicinity, creating a sort of vortex of space surrounding the midnight dagger almost like a different dimension entirely. The reality bending seris shook Ezekiel down to his very core, the alurring sense was basically dragging him towards the unreal hilt to the point of needing to be resisted. Albeit, going against his need to approach the dagger wasn't optimal, Ezekiel's awareness was on the verge of being overtaken by numbness and lack of response, he was nothing more than a puppet being pulled in by a string. His arm out stretched itself while arriving in front of the dagger, outside of the vortex. Aiming to enter the space that looks like it would comsume one whole on contact, Ezekiel's body moved without permission but not against his will. It was now or never, if he stood stagnant he would lose consciousness at any given moment, thus he entered the vortex hand first."
Ezekiel: "ARGAHHHHHAAHHHH!!!"
While staying intact, it felt like every cell in Ezekiel's right hand suddenly seperated from each other, dicing up Ezekiel's hand instantly in one single moment. The pain was unbearable, Ezekiel was biting his lips ferociously while pounding his chest with the left hand, traumatizing his body awake. His hand was being attracted on it's own to the center point which was the dragon hilt, all Ezekiel needed to do was bear the overwhelming, excrutiating pain which felt like losing his hand over and over and over again.
Being rebuilt and dismembered constantly, within a seperate flow of time where seconds are years, Ezekiel's hand never so much as succumbed to a scratch, perfectly fine, Ezekiel's brain simply couldn't process reality due to a mental barrage which outshone the truth. Yelling in anquish and begging, Ezekiel stared towards the night sky, which looked purple from the inside of the aura, and eventually began forming into a maroon color due to Ezekiel's eyes internal bleeding. When everything changed, from his mind, to his body, to his surroundings.
Swimming, no, flowing through empty nothingness, with no corporeal form or body. The surreal feeling was like being one with the space, an omnipresent existence. Not of one body or one atom, but every last spec of darkness was Ezekiel's form, everywhere was himself, as well as nothing at all. There was lack of panic or shock, no malice or anger, but also no happiness or pride to be found, Ezekiel simply was, nothing more or less. There was no need to fight, no need to breathe, no need to stay awake, one could simply fade away and...
???: "Rise."
A single voice reverberted throughout the infinite void of darkness, a soft, gentle, yet eery voice filled with expecations and concealed intentions. It was a voice which took notice from all, should one be conversing, playing, working, eating, even sleeping, they would drop everything and stand with absorption of the heavenly voice. It was a voice that needed the awareness, but not from everything, just one being alone was the objectification of it's attention. Staring deep into his very soul from an unknown sanction of the void, Ezekiel could feel the being's intense focus on himself regardless of not having a corporeal body to feel. It was a desireful feeling, one he longed for and wanted to get closer in proximity to.
???: "Keep rising."
The emotions which were nonexistent prior to the entrance of such a beautiful melody which rang peacefully in one's ear, once awareness caught up, they all came flooding. With a random sense of direction, desire and fervor bounced and reflected off the infinite ocean of nothingness. The need to approach the voice, to care for the voice, to listen to the voice. These unknown feelings gave heed to a sense of vertigo which inflated love tremendously so, enough to compel Ezekiel to manifest any part his body at all, in hopes of reaching such a voice.
???: "Rise beyond the heavens, and look down upon the chaos, I believe in you alone, the only one who matters."
While in the middle of engaging himself into creating a brand new body, feeling as if he's close to achieving the impossible, Ezekiel stopped himself. A new sensation appeared before him, it wasn't loving and gleeful as the prior ones he was experiencing to the point of becoming flushed, it was morbid.
A true irritation that gave rise to the ignorance of Ezekiel Malin, this heavenly being speaking to him with incredible clarity and empathy, focusing on him alone with no other concept in mind, evoked a miniscule strangeness. As if speaking to Ezekiel but not to Ezekiel, with Ezekiel in mind but entirely different, with love for Ezekiel except it wasn't for Ezekiel. He simply couldn't understand anything anymore, it was all jumbled up into a yarn ball forming the soul, invading upon what Ezekiel Malin considers Ezekiel Malin.
???: "Please come here again, i'll miss you, forever."
The same tone, with the same vigor, at the same volume, with the same tenderness and care, the voice was motonomous in it's entirety, but it so clearly wasn't artificial. The voice was genuine, the type of impact that was given was extremely real, so palpable it marked itself upon Ezekiel's mind, invoking memories he won't ever forget, no matter how complicated and unfiltered they may be. At the object of Ezekiel's affections last words, Ezekiel consciousness swirled to the bottom, the expanse of darkness was forcefully manuvering his very soul away from the being Ezekiel longed for so desperatley. Attempting to resist with futility, wrestling for a scream with no vocal cord, throat, or mouth to speak with, Ezekiel plummeted endlessly, then blinked regardless of not having eyes.
Ezekiel: "Cough cough, ahh, hahh, mhmm."
Reality suddenly waved it's hands at Ezekiel, welcoming him back from his venture into an unknown existence beyond that of his world. That land of darkness was far more authentic then what appeared before Ezekiel as his senses continued to calibrate to the switch in forms. Up was down and down was up, bad was good and good was bad, positive was negative and negative was positive, Ezekiel's entire existence was in shambles. He was going haywire, like the dizziness of getting up hastily after waking up, except it was to the point of thrumming Ezekiel's inner cords.
His mind was rioting with different comprehensions and understandings of what took place. Insanity was beginning to rise in Ezekiel who was holding his hair in frustration of his mind's boggled train of thought. He started tugging at it, thinking it would help him cope with the mental tragedy insurging, when he vomited the blueberry's and dinner he had prior to ingressing into the jungle.
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As he perpetually stayed on all fours, staring down at his vomit which coloriation was improving from a rainbow into the actual color of just green and yellow. His arms and legs were recentering themselves allowing Ezekiel to push onto his knees, his neck muscles were starting to flex with purpose, pushing the view of desolation and dust sphere into view. He was in the middle of a gray desert with no life in the inner sanctum, along the border of the sphere were vast and lucious scenery of greens and browns which was the jungle.
Ezekiel: "Huff Huff jungle, i'm still here."
Erasing all thoughts from mind, putting a halt to all manner of thinking, Ezekiel calmed himself by focusing on his breathing. The surge of insanity was starting to waver and disappate, his senses were returning slowly but surely, he was becoming Ezekiel Malin once more. As if being reborn after being erased entirely, the boy heaved and panted regaining his composure. Once the feeling in his arms returned, Ezekiel percieved something comfortable and familiar, a handle of sorts, no a hilt, it felt practically made for him.
Ezekiel: "So this... is that, what pressure."
He felt powerful, a surge of energy lurched itself into Ezekiel making his veins bulge as if being filled to the brim, possiby to the point of overflowing. Ezekiel was glaring at the dagger in wonder and awe, practically forgetting the torment he went through just to touch the obsidian arnament. Looking closer, the design was that of two ruby dragons swirling around themselves until they met at the tip of the dagger, to Ezekiel it looked like they were eating each others faces. It was intriciate and delicately made, the sheer masterfulness oozing from the art was clear as day. As he continued to observe the weapon which led him to that other reality, Ezekiel wondered what the connection between the two was.
Ezekiel: "Now's not the time, I forgot about him for a second, I bet Wither's looking for his food right about now."
His biggest current threat wasn't even a glimmer of light compared to the experience Ezekiel just went through, for this reason Wither had been forgotten. While glaring at the midnight dagger ornamented with ruby, Ezekiel realises why he even needed it in the first place, why he had put himself through such torment of the vortex. Ezekiel stares down at his hands, flipping them from bottom side up and vice versa, making sure he didn't have any injuries, and to his dismay, there wasn't even a single scratch. All the pain of having his arm lost due to slicing and dicing over and over again was a facade, most likely his brains interpretation of the unknown vortex's impression.
He moves to stand, pulling himself up while dusting off with his free hand, the gears in Ezekiel's head started turning. Questioning how he would find Wither, Ezekiel found himself a bit stumped due to relying on his 6th sense to find his friends too much. Actually finding another living being without this sense wasn't something that occured at all in Ezekiel's life. While he pondered futher, he realised how stupid he had been for even giving it a thought in the first place.
Stomp, crash, stomp, crash.
The ground had already been trembling prior to the realisation, but Ezekiel was too preoccupied with mind boggling pain and excess information for that of a child to swallow to notice the steadliy arriving racket. The sound of trees being toppled over like a natural disaster was walking unimpeded throughout the damp jungle. The air suddenly scented with blood lust, it smelled putrid, worse than having bile in your throat with no water to drink. While out in the open, surrounded by dust and decay, Ezekiel was watching tree after tree fall like pieces on a game board. His opponent had found him far before Ezekiel could even think about what he needed the dagger for.
Ezekiel: "You don't give up do you, once you get a whiff you'll follow forever, heh, what a monster."
The mutiple ton beast had toppled over the last tree on the border of the dust sphere Ezekiel was in the middle of. The disorienting purple aura was no longer present, after Ezekiel was thrown out of the land of darkness, the dagger was in his hand, subconsciously being gripped. The air which felt like it was rejected from entering the dagger's domain was whistling through as if it was trying to break through the aura with quantity. All that could be heard was the swaying of plant life around the perimeter of the ring which Wither entered and Ezekiel stood at the center of. The two intently kept their eyes on one another, no hesitation or retreat was visible in their mannerisms.
Wither: "Grrrr..."
Wither bared it's dirty and serrated teeth at Ezekiel, it had a difficult time getting himself unstuck from the artificial trap the strange cub led it into, normally nothing ever had enough sharpness or weight to actually impale it's body. For the first time the Wither had to struggle through pain it's never had to feel before, this only further fueled the negative emotions practically sparking off Wither's form. The first of it's action was using an ability it had yet to use while chasing the strange cub around, the ability to repel. Just like the ability to use it's own body as a centrifugal point for gravity to attract itself to, Wither could also do the opposite. It's able to create an invisible barrier, pushing everything away all the same. Futhermore, unlike that of it's attracting ability, the oppositional magic didn't start from the inner of Wither, rather it was a wave starting from the outside of Wither's body. As a result, the spikes embedded into it's body weren't pushed out, rather the half that was on the exterior was broken off, and a casm was created in the process.
After decimating the pit fall leaving nothing but a gaping crater in it's wake, Wither didn't bother removing the spikes inside of it's rear. There were plenty of reasons for Wither's judgement, for one, if it were to forcefully remove the spikes by paw, the gaping holes left behind will cause death by blood loss near instantly. This conclusion was drawn by Wither who knew his own body the best, what it can and can't break. But more importantly, was the woeful scenario in which it's prey might actually be the first to escape Wither's wrath should it take the time to adjust to its new metalic prosthetics. So Wither moved on, revenge and destruction clinging to it's heart with a suffocating pressure.
Ezekiel: "You seem off, what's wrong Wither, why don't you attack?"
There was nothing but a stagnant, serious expression plastered on his youthful face when proposing such mocking questions towards his fatal enemy. Ezekiel wasn't really expecting a response, he just needed to speak aloud, otherwise he would start drowning in fear and despair. The tingling on his skin was irritating to the point of needed to be scratched endlessly, the sweat growing on his forehead continued vigourously.
Ezekiel was nothing but a child and even he knew this all to well. He was experiencing too much, too fast, with too much detail for a child to even try and comprehend. With a jumbled mind ready to burst open at any given moment, Ezekiel didn't even think about running for a second. Why? He asked himself this time and time again this fateful night, what is it that keeps him afloat. His parents? His friends? His home? No, it was none of these things, the reasoning was so complex and intricate it would take years, decades to fully uncover. All tha was currently known to Ezekiel is the need to keep walking, one foot in front of the other, no matter what.
Snarling at the strange cub was Wither, thinking it could see straight through Ezekiel like glass, it presumed the smile hidden behind those scowling words. Wither had already started to circle Ezekiel while concealing it's atroscious back side, reluctant in allowing it to be visble to the strange cub who caused it. The wariness it had now was mostly attibuted to the newly aquired claw the strange cub had in it's hand.
Wither was familar with such tools the puny races use to make up for their weakness, having just witnessed such weapons in combat just a week ago. But the dagger the strange cub was holding was different from the rest. It held a malevolent fervor brewing with the need to eradicate, as if it were a living being similar to that of Wither. What was being sensed wasn't magic in the slightest, rather a stranger more mysterious ambience.
Ezekiel: "Wither, I don't have anymore time, there are people waiting for me, for my safe return, so come at me with everything you have, show me what war is like."
Grimacing at his own over confidence, Ezekiel spoke unhesitatingly with honesty. There was nothing left to hide, there were no more genile tricks or witty plans he could dish out, all the preperations have been set, all that was left was the beginning of the play to start. Ezekiel was in no shape or form prepared to die, sure he was advanced for his age, indeed he has morals and standards children usually shouldn't have, but he wasn't ready to give his life for a cause.
A lone leaf, falling ever so slowly from the branch it was born from, the home it was accustomed to. Descending unwillingly, having been pushed by the disgraceful breeze which gave no heed to the feelings or desires of the leaf. Floating down towards hell, the leaf swayed and struggled, seeing it's home stray farther and farther away from sight. Vainly submitting to it's fate, the leaf wailed with no voice, it shed tears with no eyes, it felt pain with no senses, the short lived life it was peacefully living would all come to an end soon. Thus, the moment the leaf touched the floor, the tomb it was going to be buried in, marked the start of conflict like the jungle has never seen before.
Ezekiel: "RAHHH!!!"
Wither: " RAHHH!!!"
The sound of the devastating roar given in unison by both Ezekiel and Wither insued turmoil like no other in the ancient jungle, the apex in the food chain . Ezekiel stepped foward with the intention of ending a life for the very first time, and it won't be his own he assured himself. Wither stood at attention, knowing it was at a disadvantage in terms of mobility, would stand his ground, this was also a first time occurence for the Wither who was used to chasing it's prey. However, Wither, no matter how heart aching he felt, accepted Ezekiel no longer as a prey, but an opponent on equal grounds with itself.