Draco began to fall.

But before that, let's take this back a few moments.

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Draco hummed a tune as he stepped through the sliding doors. The weight of his purchase weighed down on his right and left arms, not metaphorically, but physically weighed down… in plastic bags.

He looked down, nodding with a smirk, “These are durable… And big, really big. Cool.”

The contents of his bags are; Wood, nails, a hammer, and a few microfiber cloths.

“This is going to be so great. I will make my dreams come true!” Draco gave a slight hop, and the planks of wood began to tip out. —

Draco's heart dropped.

“Shit!”

He registered that his toe had an ingrown.

— In a sharp and painful jerk, he shot his arms out to stop the wood from falling out.

“Safe,” His right arm began pulsing with a dull pain, “Crap.”

He continued his humming as he walked forward, taking a right, and then taking another right.

“There she is! My baby, Mt.Bucker. . .” Draco remembered the amount of times she had thrown him off, “Okay, my disobedient baby, but still my baby.”

This ‘baby’ was a mountain bike with a few modifications, the major one was a cage-like object above the back tire.

Draco walked up to the cage and kicked it, the lid popping open. He loaded his bags in, and angled the planks to be slightly sticking out from the back. He reached into his pocket and rustled around till he let out a satisfied grunt, and pulled out a key.

He unlocked the bikelock and wrapped it between the cage's holes, and around the boards.

Draco gave it one sturdy shake to test its hold, “Good enough,” He thought with a shrug, “It’ll hold till I get home.” He smirked, and finger gunned the bike.

He hopped on, and kicked the bike-stand up. He began to peddle, starting singing words to his hum, “Gonna make a forge! Gonna forge some steel! Gonna annoy my brothers! I’m’a be a dwarf!”

Sadly reality denied that joy and flipped him off. A black pit formed right under him, only a few seconds after he began peddling.

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Now back to the present.

Draco began to fall with his beloved bike, and his soon-to-be forge. His gut took a nosedive, and his bladder loosened, till he gripped his mental hold back onto it. “Not dying with piss stained pants.”

His bravado dropped, and he began to scream. His mind was calm… calm as it could be when one was falling – so a semistable state for Draco. But his body listened more to his desires … Screaming like a little bitch.

All of his mind was focused on taking in his surroundings – pure black void – and stopping himself from pissing himself. “THAT PACK OF GATORADE CHUGGING WASN'T THE SMARTEST IDEA! I DON'T EVEN LIKE THAT STUFF!”

Gravity —

“Why the fuck is there gravity!”

— began to take hold. He started to float up from his seat. He clenched his handlebar and held on, locking his feet onto his cage. “No you mc’F’ing don’t! You're dying with me, forge!.”

Whatever loose junk not tied down on his bike or stuffed behind zippers were lost. Some smacking Draco in his face on their way up. Lipbomb hurts a lot more when hurled into your face.

Suddenly the speed he was falling at increased. His Viking-esk ponytail came undone as the wind stole his rubberband, leaving his hair fluttering in the wind, periodically slapping his face.

Without his strong will, and physically death gripping his junk he would have … done something he would regret.

Then, light. A bright flash of light burned his eyes, making him reflexively shut his eyelids. It was too intense and just shown through his eyelids, gaining a red hue.

His hands twitched, a silent urge pulsed in them; to cover his eyes. “No,” He yelled, but he could only feel the words escape his mouth and be dragged off with the wind.

He squashed the desire, and gripped harder with his right. Any thoughts of his left hand's whereabouts pushed far back to the depths of his subconscious.

The light continuously grew in brightness, causing more and more pain to Draco, and at one point his world was basked in white. With the light also came the feeling of his velocity increasing, he was falling faster and faster.

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The pain was gone. Was he screaming anymore? His throat felt empty.

The feeling of his body was fuzzy, not his own. Mind hazy. His senses felt stunted. The light was doing something to him, he understood that, but couldn’t act upon it. He felt trapped. Multiple times he felt his consciousness begin to slip, till he gritted his teeth and stayed awake. Thoughts were no more, but desires stayed, and he didn’t allow himself to slip free; both from reality and his bike.

Another jolt, and Draco’s velocity increased once again. The light was still slowly increasing in brightness, a total opposite of how his fall was. Draco was able to realize the jolts of his speed increasing came in intervals, but couldn’t register the time between.

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Three.

Only three.

Desires and urges were purged by the light.

Light, his plummet, and his sense of self — unwavering, but for how long — was all he felt.

Everything else had fallen into the background, and became a blur of senses overshadowed by the major three.

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Draco’s velocity took a sharp nosedive, breaking the rhythm of slow and steady increases. The light stopped steadily growing brighter, and began flashing from white to blue — brightness increasing each time.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

He felt his mind become foggy and numb. Something began drilling into his head. He resisted, feeling an empty sensation of his teeth grinding against each other. But the numbness only increased. His vision blurred, beginning to fog over.

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Darkness.

Draco’s mind was completely numb, the fog was heavy and damp, smothering him. But something burned, he burned, something within him shown through the fog.

The fog only intensified its attempts at extinguishing him, the flame. It began crushing him, intensifying its drilling. He only burnt brighter.

Something clicked, and his senses were swept up in flame. The fog was burnt away.

His flame flickered out.

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A flame flickered on. Draco awoke. He felt floaty, dense, warm, sway’ie. Everything was dream-like, he —

Before he could finish that thought, he felt his being lurch forward, stripping him of those feelings and sensations. His eyes bulged in alertness, but it wasn’t his eyes, no, they were another sense.

Everything twisted and flowed. The darkness swirled into color. A forge, then a flame, blue and cold — taking on humanoid shape. The forge was, it wasn’t right, not in a wrong way, but not fully solid.

Like paint within water. There, but not, the slightest movement distorted it slightly. Parts of the forge would drift off before filling out again.

The figure, no. Draco noticed he was the figure, he saw through it, and saw from somewhere else. He was seeing from two points, but it didn’t cause him a headache. It just… felt so natural.

His body's flames danced and rippled. He saw and felt what was happening. His hands became more defined. Sturdier. Stronger. Flames spewed from his wrist, turning into bandages that wrapped around his hands. His feet became chiseled flame, solid and calloused, his footing felt assured.

An urge bubbled up in his chest. Waves of pink flames pulsed out, swimming through his body, leaving a trail of pink before slowly returning to blue. Till, stopping at his hands and feet, dying them pink. He had to move.

His fingers twitched, sending out flakes of pink flame into the void. The flakes flittered off, till slowly fading and winking out. He shuffled his feet, causing small ripples in the darkness. He was standing wrong.

His limbs slowly moved, almost as if he was in water. His movements sent out ripples across the darkness, dispersing out, some causing the forge to slightly distort.

He was in a boxer's stance. His stance that he made. It felt right, he felt strength. He felt the lust of battle. Draco’s body flared pink. His fist and feet were burning red.

“Move!”

He stepped forward, sending burning red waves of flame out. He twisted his waist, and threw a right punch.

His fist exploded into a ball of fire, expanding forward, engulfing the world in flame. The forge was burnt away. The darkness couldn’t run, and was caught up in the flame; Succumbing like the forge had.

Draco could feel everything.

He was everything.

The flame surged, and twisted upon itself.

The world swirled upon itself, and —

*Flip*

He was now a blacksmith, body of yellow flame, hammering away on anvil. Each hit sent ripples of yellow fire within the void. He swung with all his might, and before he could hit the anvil —

*Flip*

He was a fraud, body of green sickly flame, each word that left his mouth sent out ripples of green flame.

*Flip*

He was a golden flame. He was a hero. One without a sword, gun, or medical supplies. He was a simple blue flame, with a heart made of golden flame. Each beat of his heart, every action he did, was filled with the golden flame. Bringing good to the world of the void, leaving little fragments of golden flame.

*Flip*

Lifting his head Draco saw all four of his versions standing in front of him, backs turned, looking at something. He had no need to follow their gazes, because he could already see it.

A forge, one that couldn’t be given an exact size. It seemed to go on forever, it was massive. But the flame within was dead. It was a dead forge.

Then its grate opened, and he felt a huge force pulling him into the forge's mouth. He planted his feet into the void, but he saw his other four versions get sucked up into it. They merged within, their fires grew bigger and spewed out of the forge's mouth.

He saw that the color of their flames didn’t mix, but stayed separate. They all slowly separated and went into their own corners of the forge, the middle left open.

“For me.”

Draco resisted the pull, and stood firm. The pull grew stronger, but his desire not to be sealed within the forge grew. He wanted to, wanted to be what?

A lapse in his mind caused him to slightly loose hold, and began lifting up. He felt dread as he began getting sucked in. His resolve solidified, becoming clear.

He threw his arms out, grabbing onto the void, death gripping it.

“I want to stay me!”

As soon as his thought formed the forges pull stopped. Draco belly flopped onto the void. He turned around, and saw the forge looming over him, grate shut.

He crawled back, but the forge was there. Towering over him. Moments passed, only a few seconds, but it felt like eternity. Both stared; one of flame, the other of stone. The overbearing feeling dissipated, leaving a calm aura. The forge seemed to be appeased.

The forge’s surface rippled, starting from the top to bottom it slowly changed back into the same ink-like material suspended in water. Draco layed there dumbfounded as he saw this whole process.

He just layed there, watching the semi-solid forge stand still, pieces of it floating away before filling out again. Time ticked by, a few seconds, but his calm was returning.

It shifted. The forge shifted like pudding smacked by a spoon. Distorting. The center of the grate began swirling, making a vortex, sucking in the rest of the forge. Colors of the forge did not mix, but within the swirling mass flicks of flames could be seen.

Draco began crawling backwards, but the whirlpool was spinning toward him. Fast. Unnaturally fast.

He rolled onto his side, and tried to get up and run, but it was too late.

It touched his chest and stabbed through, sucking into him.

His mind went blank.

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His mind booted on, and felt his senses get shocked awake by a wave of sensations, and he felt his body again. His fleshy human body, not his flame one.

“What fuck was that! Was that all really just a dream?”

He could see the light again, and felt the speed of his fall. The light seemed to no longer increase and was diminished, but his fall seemed to—

The pain returned and Draco winced, but it was different, he could think through it. No longer a thought consuming pain, but an irritant that made you stumble. It was bearable again.

He looked around, and was able to see again. The world was still pure white, but he could see stuff. He could see his handlebar, and his hands! He quickly glanced back and sighed a breath of relief when he saw his stuff still there.

“An empty comfort, but one at least.”

*Tap pants*

Draco let out a sigh.

“I am still here, for now, but for how long. I shall only see, because I’ll stay. Only death shall take me. But even then I’ll be somewhere else.” His brain spewed out.

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Those words came to bite him in his butt.

Draco felt his descent suddenly speed up to unnatural levels. Breaking some kind of natural law. His gut felt like it was about to lung out of his mouth.

“I’m dead.” Was Draco’s last thoughts before becoming a bloody splatter somewhere.

.

..

…

….

Draco’s eyes opened, and he said “Wait. I’m not dead?”