Fangs,Flames and Frustration

His arm had started to heal, the torn flesh knitting itself together and the fractured bones aligning with an almost unnatural precision. The process was slow and agonizing, a burning sensation radiating through his body as if his very blood was boiling. Yet, with each passing moment, the pain dulled, replaced by an eerie warmth that spread from the wound outward.

But the relief was fleeting.

The tattered remnants of his clothes offered little protection against the biting cold. The freezing air seeped into his skin, and the dampness from the snow only made it worse. He shivered violently, his teeth chattering uncontrollably as he pressed his back against the jagged rock, trying to conserve what little warmth he had left.

His eyes scanned his surroundings, desperate for anything that could shield him from the elements. The frostbitten forest felt like a cruel labyrinth, its silence only broken by the distant sounds of snarls and skittering claws. The fight between the monsters raged on somewhere behind him, but he couldn't focus on that now.

"Great," he muttered through chattering teeth, his voice weak but laced with sarcasm. "Healing an arm only to freeze to death. What a twist."

He pulled his shredded coat tighter around his torso, but it was barely more than a tattered rag now, hanging uselessly from his shoulders. His fingers were stiff, nearly numb, as he rubbed them together, desperate to generate even the slightest bit of warmth. His body trembled uncontrollably, the freezing air biting at his skin.

Gritting his teeth, Ezra summoned the faint white flame that enveloped his hands. The fire flickered weakly in the cold, but its warmth was immediate, a small reprieve from the relentless chill. He pressed his hands closer to his body, trying to spread the heat, willing the flame to expand outward.

For a brief moment, it worked. The warmth spread to his chest and arms, and the trembling began to subside. But as quickly as the comfort came, it was snatched away.

The flickering flame dimmed, and a wave of exhaustion crashed over him, draining what little strength he had left. His legs buckled, and he leaned heavily against the rough bark of a nearby tree, gasping for air.

His eyes narrowed in frustration, the faint glow of the flame reflecting his determination. 'Why does my body grow weak every time I use this? 'he thought, his mind racing as he tried to piece together the puzzle. 'Why does it take so much out of me?'

His first priority was to head back to the chamber—and, hopefully, avoid stumbling into any of the abomination's minions along the way. The thought of running into another one of those grotesque creatures sent a shiver down his spine, but he couldn't afford to dwell on it.

The chamber was where he needed to go. He had no clear idea of its exact location, but an inexplicable pull guided him. It was faint, like an invisible string tugging at his very core, nudging him in a certain direction through the endless expanse of snow and shadow.

Ezra moved cautiously, his footsteps muffled by the thick layer of frost beneath him. The forest felt alive in an unsettling way, the branches overhead creaking faintly as if whispering secrets he couldn't quite hear.

His eyes scanned his surroundings, hyper-alert for any movement, any sign of the abomination's forces.

He made it back in one piece, though barely. The journey had taken its toll, his body aching from the cold and exhaustion. As he approached the chamber, a faint sense of relief washed over him. The towering structure loomed ahead, partially obscured by dense foliage and snow, just as it had been before.

Ezra crouched down, his fingers trembling as he pulled aside a cluster of vines and snow-covered roots to reveal a small hole nestled at the base of the rocky formation. It was narrow, but familiar—his way in.

With a sharp inhale, he ducked down and squeezed through the opening, the rough stone scraping against his already battered skin. The cold air from outside clung to him as he emerged into the chamber's dim, warm glow.

The sight of the familiar space sent a pang of mixed emotions through him. Relief, exhaustion, and an odd sense of safety all fought for dominance in his mind. The glyphs on the walls pulsed faintly, their golden light casting shifting patterns across the chamber floor. The air here was different—still heavy, but no longer oppressive. It carried a faint hum, like a distant heartbeat, steady and alive.

As Ezra's eyes adjusted to the chamber's dim light, he noticed a familiar figure slumped against one of the walls, hunched over a scattered pile of food. It was Shirley, his hair wild and disheveled as he stuffed his face with whatever scraps were within reach. Bits of bread and fruit clung to his scruffy beard, and his movements were uncoordinated, almost animalistic.

Ezra blinked in disbelief. "Shirley?" His voice echoed faintly through the chamber, carrying his confusion.

The older man didn't respond, too engrossed in his feast. Ezra's gaze shifted, catching sight of the large feline creature sitting a few feet away, its crystal-blue eyes locked on him. It stared with a mix of disdain and disappointment, as if silently judging his mere presence.

The cat's tail flicked irritably, its sharp gaze darting between Ezra and Shirley before it let out a low, grumbling growl. It was clear what the growl meant: You let him do this?

"Don't look at me like that," Ezra muttered, raising his hands defensively. "I didn't know he'd turn into a savage while I was gone."

The cat narrowed its eyes, its expression unimpressed as it stretched lazily and flicked its tail again. Ezra sighed and took a hesitant step closer to Shirley, his boots crunching faintly against the stone floor.

"Shirley," he said more firmly this time, his voice echoing in the chamber. "What the hell are you doing?"

The older man finally looked up, crumbs falling from his mouth as he grinned sheepishly. "Ezra! You're back!" he said, his voice muffled by the food still stuffed in his cheeks. "Didn't think you'd take so long. Figured I'd, uh, help myself."

Ezra stared at him, eyes narrowing in disbelief. "Help yourself? That's what you call this?"

Shirley shrugged, reaching for another piece of bread. "You know how it is. Near-death experiences make a man hungry."

The feline let out an audible huff, turning its head away as if to disown the scene altogether. It padded closer to the white flame in the center of the chamber, sitting elegantly and ignoring the chaos behind it.

Ezra groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're unbelievable. You know that?" He dropped his makeshift bag onto the floor and leaned against the wall, exhaustion finally catching up to him.

"Yeah, yeah, save the lecture," Shirley replied, waving a hand dismissively. "Have some food, kid. You look like you've been through hell."

Ezra shot him a glare, but his stomach betrayed him with a loud growl. Begrudgingly, he snatched a piece of fruit from the pile, muttering under his breath, "This doesn't mean I forgive you."