(It’s fine, lol. Ooh… thumbs-up)
(I was just researching seizures, and realized that I very possibly made Jonathan an undiagnosed epileptic without even realizing it. His ‘trances’ are almost exactly like focal seizures, and he has had them multiple times within a day, sometimes even within an hour [if he’s particularly stressed]. So… yeah. I didn’t even realize it until now, lmao!)
“‘Tis alright, lass. And, trust me, everything in here, especially in this living room is real and authentic. I made them by hand,”Jonathan reassured her.
Jonathan’s expression softened when she spoke. He could smell her fear, and it pained him as much as concerned him.
“You do not have to, if you don’t wish to. ‘Tis… an overwhelming process. I can tell,”he said softly.
He immediately noticed when Adelia flinched and he almost let go of her hands. However, she calmed and placed her hand on his. A small smile grew on his face.
Then, Adelia’s head whipped back and Jonathan felt what seemed like a bolt of lightning shooting through him. Memories came to mind, almost randomly, and Jonathan instinctively tried to pull away, but he was caught, trapped staring at Adelia, trapped in memory.
~~
He was in the middle of a crowded battlefield, where three different types of reptilian humanoids, two allied against one, were brutally fighting. He was one of the singular reptilians, Ahkrethians, fighting against the allied abominations. The other two races should never have been.
He was charging at a pair of the abominations, one of the Draklen race, the other of the Driikyn race. The Draklen had skeletal legs and a wide-brimmed hat that miraculously stayed on his head. The Driikyn was shorter than her companion, but much more bestial, and much angrier. Though, he still towered over both of them.
As he charged, so too did the Driikyn, the beastly female hoping to meet him and claw him to bits. Unfortunately, they never met, as the Draklen had cast a spell that created a field of necrotic skeletal arms.
The arms caught both him and the Driikyn, and she fell over in a fit of screaming before being viciously ripped apart. He, on the other hand, remained standing as he screamed, his legs up to his calves being shredded.
The spell faded a moment later, the Draklen cackling before running off to attack someone else. He clearly didn’t much care about the loss of his ally.
He finally toppled to the ground, still screaming in sheer agony as his legs steadily started to rot away. Then, he was being trampled. He curled his arms over his head, but it still didn’t do much good. Within minutes, he had passed out from the pain.
He woke to the sight of his sister, Risithia, and a Shaman, a healer. The Shaman was trying to heal his legs, what remained of them, but it wasn’t working. His legs were on fire, and the Shaman was making it so much worse!
He screamed again and his sister yelped, grabbing him and trying to calm him. She even screamed his name, Ronathil, but he barely heard it. The pain. The pain! Make it stop! He wanted to shout it to the skies, but the only sound he could make was a scream.
The Shaman quickly caught on and stopped, relieving some of the pain, but not all of it. He, Ronathil, passed out again. The last thing he felt was the arms of his sister wrapping around him.
~~
“Down with the foul tyrant Kalithgul!”Ronathil howled.
Cheers of agreement followed and overwhelmed the crowd. The planned rebellion began in earnest and any that resisted were quickly killed or captured. Cheiftain Kalithgul was soon killed as well.
Traleketh, the heir and the leader of the rebellion, then killed Kalithgul’s murderer. The rebellion stopped cold.
Traleketh turned to the crowd, glaring furiously. He then spoke, acknowledging his new status as Cheiftain, and calling for the ‘leader’ of the rebellion to step forward for punishment. The so-called leader was Ronathil.
He stepped forward, glaring at Traleketh for omitting his own involvement. After all, Traleketh had come to Ronathil with the seed of a rebellion already made. Traleketh glared back, clearly not willing to allow his involvement in creating the rebellion to come out.
“Do not become your father, Traleketh,”Ronathil pleaded evenly. Traleketh growled at him, then called the other two ‘leaders’ up beside Ronathil.
”Theron Ronathil, you will be the first to be banished. If you resist, you will be killed!”Traleketh announced. Ronathil snorted and shook his head at the ridiculousness of the situation.
“You will do no such thing!”Theron Risithia snapped, stepping up to the pair. Ronathil turned to her.
“Go, Risithia. I will not resist. I have expected this outcome since the rebellion began,”Ronathil said.
“No!”she snapped. Ronathil shook his head.
“Go, dear sister. You are not involved. Why become involved if staying away fares better for you?”Ronathil softly insisted.
She stared at him pleadingly. He shook his head again and she gave up, walking away.
“I am saddened by your betrayal of an ally. A trustworthy ally,”Ronathil said resignedly, turning back to Traleketh.
“Trustworthy? How trustworthy when I suggested that we kill no one?”Traleketh snapped.
“Trustworthy enough to keep your secret unspoken,”Ronathil replied.
He walked toward the den that held the rarely used Banishment Portal. He didn’t care that Traleketh’s glaring eyes were boring into him.
~~
The smoke from the fire reached high into the sky. Jonathan had just gotten on his bicycle when he saw it and he hurriedly made his way over to that part of the neighborhood. He reached it, just in time to see his shy friend, Ikna, watch his wife and daughter get crushed before they reached the burning front door.
Jonathan gasped in horror at the sight, hopping off of his bicycle. He ran to Ikna, catching his arm just as the young man rushed to rescue his dead family. Ikna fought him for a moment, then collapsed in tears, leaning against Jonathan’s legs.
Jonathan stared at the burning house, unable to do a damned thing. The fire trucks and ambulances arrived shortly later, but there was nothing to be done. Ikna, a youth that Jonathan had come to see as a great friend, was devastated, and now a widower.
Jonathan stayed to the side as the police arrived and figured out what had happened. He gave his statement, what little it was, then sought out Ikna. But, by that time, Ikna had finished talking and had vanished from sight. Jonathan never saw Ikna again.
~~
Jonathan gasped loudly, almost whimpering, maroon tears, blood tears, sliding down his cheeks. His shaking hands slipped out of Adelia’s, and he wrapped them around himself.
A moment later, he froze, staring blankly ahead with only his blinking and breathing showing that he was still alive. If Adelia tried to catch his attention, he didn’t realize it, didn’t even register it.
A minute later, he blinked a couple times and looked around. Seeing Adelia reminded him of what had just happened and he vanished in a cloud of smoke, reappearing on the other couch, curling up against the corner.
With barely a thought, Jonathan kicked off his boots, then held his legs close with a hand, squeezing his calves repeatedly. On his now bare feet were the dark scars from the Draklen’s attack all those years ago. They continued up his ankles and disappeared under his pants, where they stopped just below his knees.
He moved his free hand to his lips, covering them as his body shook. More blood tears fell from his eyes as he fought to escape the grip of three of his worst memories.
Then, after a long moment, Jonathan simply melted into the couch, too out of it to notice his surroundings. His hand still squeezed his calf, and his toes twitched occasionally when he hit a sensitive nerve.
