Calm and soothing black turned to striking and scalding white as I woke up with an eyesore of sunlight piercing my half-opened gaze. Above my sight was a dark slab, suspended by oddly dense-looking pillars.
'This isn't the village,' I thought.
Very "shockingly", it wasn't the village. It was a black, barred cage, where I lay flat on my back, which felt the cold metallic surface of the cage. Bright light cut through all openings, and it almost felt therapeutic the way the shadows cast inside. Then it came to me
'Wait, how did I end up here?' I questioned myself.
My mind was hazy, and I could barely grasp my recent memories. However, one little bump that lifted me off the cage's flooring had made me regain my full consciousness, and I remembered everything. I could tell because tears came out of my eyes as my stomach constricted and my lungs began to jerk breaths out.
"Sir, he's awake," said a man on top of some grey surface with a saddle.
I stared at the grey, wrinkly surface, realizing that this was a familiar elephant. Then I looked at the 2 figures slouching ahead, one with his head twisted my way. He had recognizable obnoxious features.
"SIGMUND!!" I shrieked, and my voice was seemingly back to normal.
I charged at the bars and tried punching it to bust it open but to no avail. My punch had mere sparks of the blood-red energy I had before, and I was rather powerless in general.
"Looks like a ray of sunshine has woken up darkness itself. I must say you gave me quite a hard time there. Oh yes, don't bother trying to break free, the cage is made of a very rare metal called death metal, which conducts spirit force, so anything that hits it will simply be transmitted out, and it will not be damaged. It takes an absolute slash to break, which you are not aware of." Sigmund rambled.
I got further enraged by his tone and bashed at the cage further. I'm not going to rest till I've rid his body of his flesh.
"No dumb logic is gonna stop me! I'll tear this cage open and rip you apart!" I roared.
"Oh deary, the gumption this boy has," He snickered.
"Let's not forget who was lying on the floor last night before I blacked out," I refuted.
His face went from his overconfident aristocratic smirk to an insecure little twinkle, and his laughter was swallowed back in.
"A mere streak of luck," He replied, trying his best to sound nonchalant.
"The only 'streak of luck' was me passing out," I nagged at him.
Just then, he swiveled his hand, and in the blink of an eye, a concentrated beam of blue energy was not even a crumb distance from my throat, and I felt the heat of his power.
Then he turned his neck back towards me, his eyes were glowing blue, and his face looked irritated.
"A streak of luck is what is keeping you alive right now you insignificant village brat, now lower your tone and tenor, and remember that you are only alive because I didn't kill you some hours ago. You have a greater fate than your little pile of rubble of a village, and that fate is your imprisonment and slavery to us." He growled
'Pile of rubble of a village' and 'Fate' gave me throbbing flashbacks of that night, the screams, my loved ones, and so much more.
"RAAAAHH! Don't you dare talk about my village like that! You're dead you sick-" I stopped there, as I felt a hard pulse on my head, and suddenly, whatever blinding light, pain, and anger I had vanished, and I returned to my darkness.