Again, for yet another time, the ringing he always was forced to listen to, silently baring the sound, seemingly drilling into his skull, unable to move neither his limbs nor his lids, unknowingly wandering through a place he didn't know, light warmth engulfed him, then he squinted his eyes shut, the noise ramped up to an unbearable tone—unable to escape it.
Forced to move his torso up, his eyes being opened abruptly for him, he found himself yet again in another dream—his feet and arms longer, the lower body covered in a furred black blanket—his bed presumably. He knew the sight that stretched out from his windows, still surrounded by the same grey structures that engulfed the place he woke up in, the view from above—the buildings reaching up to this apartment.
It took a while for Midas to realize he was able to move the foreign body again, his right hand untouched - no stone or bandage on him. Massaging his forehead, he slid up from the blanket, getting up onto his feet. Only dark green plants brought some color into this bedroom—shades of grey made up the floor, the built-in wardrobes on the walls, and the nightstands to either side of the bed. Was this room meant to house multiple people?
The door to the living room was already opened, the white kitchen stuck out from the other part of the large room - the white ceramic floor somewhat glowing in the sea of dark grey and black. He was quick to recognize the stacked-up blankets from the last time he ended up in this place, shortly lamenting over all that happened between now and the last time he set sight on the couch. Yet again, he was unable to protect those who did so much for him.
Who knows what happened to Haya? Midas wasn't able to make out how much damage his body suffered—the flames light didn't reach far enough; Graf suffered a great wound as well. His fingers clenched together just at the thought of what the last brawler did to them; he grew impatient—the need to go back to them to catch up was greater than his interest in the foreign place he found himself trapped inside.
The coffee table was made out of metal, at least its frame, which gave it some footing to stand securely on the wooly carpet under it. The actual surface was perfectly round, the milky glass reflecting the dim gray light that radiated from outside into the room.
With numb eyes, he watches his fingers slowly glide atop the see-through surface, his skin picking up what seemed to be flakes of dust. His eyes eventually focusing on a wooden frame holding a cracked picture inside of it, he picked it up as he walked towards it with mild interest.
The glass that protected the framed photo was burst open; inside of the frame was a picture of a brown-haired man—someone familiar, even though Midas was unable to remember anything he could put in connection to him. The burst-up glass fractured right through the middle of the foreign face, such damage right in the middle of what seemed to be a perfectly tidied apartment—seeming somewhat abandoned, looking back through the room again, his eyes laid onto a cup.
Dried brown remains of coffee stuck onto the ceramic cup—left behind at least multiple hours ago. Midas pondered if the enframed person lived inside this room—holding onto the painted wooden frame, the wood's texture shining through the dark brown. As he lost himself in the eyes of the person, the ringing appeared again, calling him just as last time, making him fall under its intensity, the ground beneath him vanishing before he could hear the frame hit the ground.
There was a slim chance of it—what if Graf waited for him in Puertagua, waiting until the night passed, remaining inside one of the city's inns? Something like hope emerged in him; Graf didn't struggle to move after he was wounded, even carrying Haya before steering the ride. Midas was sure, if he was able to wake up again—most likely at the bald man's side.
Already imagining sitting on the straw, seeing Inaya and Haya to his sides, the young girl resting on the lap of the masked girl - while he listened to Haya rant about something he saw on their way to their goal. His energy building up eventually to open his lids—making his torso shoot up to hopefully find his squad in front of him.
Sunrise, his lit up eyes met a darkened face, half lidded eyes set stiffly onto the ground, a tired expression - ruffled hair fell into the face of the man that sat infront of him, the both of them inside a small cave - the risen sun already shining onto the dry ground the both of them sat on. Not knowing what to say, the boy watched with perplexed sight as the dark pupils of the crimson-haired man rose up to muster him.
„Good. You survived… Even able to move your torso, I see." He blinked slowly, focusing his sight, closing his lids to massage his eyes softly. Before moving his head towards the exit of the cave, an arm's length away from the two of them. His blade rested sheithed against the rough walls of the cavern - the leather wrapped arround the blade slightly red, the handle of the weapon spotted with slim gold patterns.
Midas sunk his head; he was lucky enough to be found—his brows sterned at the thought of simply forgetting the crew for now; his goal was meeting Almas's brother after all. Stopping the storm was important—his time dwindling while he thought about the good times he had with the others. Keeping quiet for a short moment, risking quick glances up to the foreign man, he spoke „Thank you… for carrying me here." His words still uncertain, unable to read the man's expression.
„You owe me a new coat—I had no other way of keeping the blood from flowing out of you..." As the foreign man spoke, Midas felt something sticking onto his back, feeling the crust that formed around his wounds—dried blood. Watching as the boy noticed the rope put around his chest and stomach, he spoke once more. „Forget it. Are you from the desert...?"
„I am… The first time I woke up was inside the Northern Fort." Unsure, Midas formed a reply, making the eyes of the man light up shortly; his reddened fingers were folded together to preserve their heat, opening up again as he blew his warm breath into his palms.
„Hij'Shama, you say…?" His brows sharpened as the man raised his head, rubbing his cold hands together. Watching the boy nod hesitantly, he leaned forward to ask him further questions, „Have you heard about a man named Alma, perhaps? Have you seen him anywhere while you remained inside that fort?" Midas looked surprised, his eyes forming a serious expression.
„He taught me this language… But due to the water kingdom's army, he unfortunately..." Midas cramped up, biting his tongue in regret—his fingers clenching his bandaged arm. The boy was still unable to fully look past Almas's death, instead hyperfixating on the distant peaks that stuck out high from the surrounding rock.
„Oh… Don't say it if you don't want to—I get it… That's truly unfortunate—I have heard about a march to the region… But I never imagined they would actually succeed in their manner..." Following the boy's gaze, he turned to the high peaks that towered over each other—the east side of the mountain range. Loosely pointing at the mountains on the horizon with his finger, the man spoke, „There is a regional legend about an old flock of dragons residing in between the peaks... Never saw them, though…" Without looking at the boy, he tried to switch the topic.
„Dragons, you say...?" Leaning against the cave's wall, the rough texture of the rock not comfortable to rest his shoulder and head on, Midas replied with flat interest. „If I dare to ask, why did you save me...? You don't seem to know me..." His urge to know more about the man in front of him growing, he was sure this was the first time he saw him.
„You created this stone blockade... didn't you? It prevented your enemy from reaching Puertagua... Who knows? If these people set fire in the valleys, they would probably do so in the city as well." His hand resting on his propped-up knee, the man replied, still looking at the mountains.
„I was lucky—I don't have any actual control over my mana yet… I guess the stress made me focus up for once." His eyes drifted to the ground of the cavern, stark shadows lurked in the rugged texture of the stone - only being shone onto by one side. „I need to find the others as soon as I can... They are headed to this region's university...".
Leaning his head back, mustering the boy's face in front of him, he paused—processing the youth's words. „You're lucky—we have the same destination..."