2 New

***

Daniel's eyes flew open scrambling for light. He couldn't see anything. Darkness around, sightless and swirling. He moved his foot, feeling the ground. Earth. Something he knew. It crunched under his feet and a breathe later the wind picked up as light flooded into the place. Sunlight.

His eyes scrunched up and he closed them adjusting to the burst of light. He could feel his body burning with energy. His limbs were trembling, shaking. Then he concentrated forward. I feel like I could throw a twenty-story building with my finger. Probably not, but why should I be dim. The breaths were coming in faster.

"Simmer down. Take deep slow breaths." A shadow came from the light. Just like there is no darkness without light and so it was, light with darkness. Its wings took shape, long and powerful with artistic detail that took his breath away. The face – snout actually – covered in icy blue scales shimmering like dew in yellow dawn. Two horns about a metre long hang on its head like Christmas decorations on the tree. The tail is strong, large and flexible. Its claws were silvery white. Complex, enormous and beautiful creation, a simple summary of what he saw.

Its most damning feature was its eyes; large and sapphire with a halo covering the pupil like a cumulo-stratus. It was a beautiful sight if he could say so himself. Self-preservation kicked in, adrenaline so potent like cyanide in the blood pumped in his muscles. Its claw moved making a centimetre arc before settling. Instinctively he raised his palm to protect his face.

Drip.

He looked at his palm. Blood. Weak pain pulsated. "Do you accept the contract?" Its voice was deep and seemed all-knowing. He could feel himself agreeing. But what was he agreeing to? Before he could help it, his lips and vocal cords betrayed him, "Yes,".

"The contract has been sealed. The soul of the world is our witness." Its voice cried out passionately. The wind violently billowed, he strained to listen to any tell-tale signs of danger. None. The song of the enemy was not – well playing or singing or whatever it did.

Whispers hushed to only excitement and gibberish sounds carried by the wind. The serpent, dragon he corrected after going through some myths the library nearby had, raised its head to the heavens and gave a roar that probably shattered his eardrums. The serpent tattoo responded by glowing a jet black. Its eyes glowing a sapphire hue on his clothing. He could fear the confusion and derision crashing down on him later.

A dozen breaths later, its eyes held his for a moment and the light receded into the precipice of darkness. The dragon's shadow entered his' and became one. That was so intense. When that happened he felt sweat break out. It was a feeling of being torn apart and inserted.

The scenario changed again as his feet gained a grip on the grass below. A beautiful meadow. Only a fantasy now, he thought. Green and filled with vitality practically breathing in direction.

Boom.

The sound exploded in his ear like an atomic bomb exploding with half of man's sorry excuse of civilization. His ears rang oblivious to any sound until they cleared. Then heard. A sound he dreaded with all his heart which planted the fear of the devil in him.

*Save me! Aaaaah!*

*Please my wi-*

*My baby don't ki-. Noooooo*

'No, no, no! Please not now'

A memory surfaced, seemingly mocking him.

*

"Ah, Daniel you are home." Her head whipped to the side. A tight smile on her bloodless lips. "How was your day?" Trying to keep the silence that remained when Daniel went to school. She always seemed alive when he told her of his day. It . . . brought a spark – at least that was what he thought. He looked at her before answering. The glassy eyes almost fragile, her lean frame unhealthily pale and the trembling of her body however slight her body moved

He felt his heart get torn apart again. Bury. Bury the emotions. But he also felt the tangy compassion that came with the unreasonable fear. She wasn't going anywhere. She wasn't going to die. He remembered laughing, bitterly, for there was nothing good that came from deluding himself. But he couldn't help it. Hope. Unnatural.

He told her of his day. How Ryan cheated in the exam. How afterwards he threatened him. A good sock to his nose, how satisfying it was, she smiled as if happy. He paused. He could talk anything with this woman – mother – he didn't have to carry any burdens. He could be carefree. Be himself.

Afterwards a full-on brawl punching and kicking, no nails though an unspoken rule. Her brows furrowed; getting any sort of reaction from her would always be welcomed.

"Come child. Come to Ma." She urged softly, her hand raised. He walked over. Her hand caressed his head and brushed his hair messily. She seemed to recall a tune and in wistful conviction hummed it. The song of the family flowed strongly overlaying his mother's tune. He closed his eyes enjoying the peace. As the tempo picked up, her hand around his waist tightened possessively. She was careful, he noted. Not too tight and not too loose. He relaxed in her. He could leave all his sorrows to her.

She would never leave.

But she did . . .

* * *

He awoke in tears swelling in his eyes. The heartache was raw as he had ever known it to be. Like a scar reopened by a microtome. He opened his arms willing the ache away. Everything to leave him. To see today as a new day. He lay in bed the gears in his mind creaking to get a start.

An hour later, at least according to his – ah five a.m time to move. His body, unwilling, moved to begin the routine that made up his life. Teeth. Body. Cook. The monotony and also the uniformity of it brought him peace and distracted him from the panic.

He turned on the cold shower. He never felt cold anyway. After all Tier 3 Ice soul attribute did that to you. Just the feeling of drops of a liquid on his frozen skin. It was an emptiness he filled. He went to the kitchen. The scents, movement and flow of the art. He considered cooking an art just like music when he played the piano. Soft when necessary and passionate like smouldering flames on scented rose.

He got a bowl threw ingredients together and noticed the paste he made. Pancake mix. Well, that's the problem of going on autopilot, he chided. He planned on making waffles but out of habit set up a pancake mix. Nothing he could do about it now. Put it in the pan.

"Mh. What are you making today, bro?" He turned to her as a spark of oil jumped on his skin. Wild, comfortable in her own skin and alive were the words he would describe her. Her hair was a tousled mess. Her eyes were wide and alert. Her body, sleek and laxative ready to tango with the dishes. A faint smile on her lips as if she woke up on the sunny side of life, considering It's summer he expected this. She rubbed her eyes.

"Seems we'll be eating pancakes. Set the table up and prep some coffee." He barked an order. With a mock salute, she was off. A batch of 6 was on a plate covered. He could scent the acidic level of the coffee she made. Damn, he was afraid to sip it. He held the plastic cup uneasily.

"Even though I burn steaks for a living and can only boil water, my coffee shall not be disrespected. Drink up." She cut pieces of the pancakes and dipped them in her mouth, tasting. Her expression glittered happily as she increased her pace. He stared at her. He sipped the coffee barely enough to make 5ml. His stare blanched as dry as a burnt piece of paper. Black as charcoal coffee and strong as Hercules too. He could already feel the bile rising in his throat. Simply wonderful, his lips twitched.

"You just wish to poison me with this cancerous concoction. This is not drinkable." He saw her mouth open to protest. "No. Don't say a word Abi. The coffee is as bitter as our neighbour's toothpaste and I made such a deletable," he gestured adequately, "meal. Who is the wronged one?"

"First of all, we don't have neighbours. Second I think my coffee is good. Plus you like tea more anyway why should it bother you. Close your eyes as you normally do and imagine a nice cup of tea and gulp it down, will you?" She raised her dainty hand and dusted off imaginary specks of dirt. Seeing his expression, she smiled smugly. "Thank you." She saw him down the entire cup. Now her turn to blanche.

"I didn't mean you drink the entire thing in a second."

"Sure you did." He leaned on the chair, it creaked slightly. His posture relaxed and maybe a tad bit amused. Any moment now, Abigail thought. His body stiffened like a hot rod. "Feeling gassy yet?" Her tone amused. A bubble of laughter rumbled out of her throat, delicate and smooth. His throat had seen better days. Yup has seen better days. Hot and sore. His stomach popped.

"I hate you." His tone painfully teasing. She smiled, her lips fuller and sparkling to radiate her vitality. He stood and got himself a mug of good old water. He chugged it down his throat. Much better.

"Yo, have any time to watch a movie with me. The theatres are gonna have it this weekend. Wanna come?" He asked lightly. Abigail caught his gaze. She searched for anything. Anything to affirm his need for her to be present. He was closed up. Tight as a caged bird. His eyes were bright, full of colour yet they were too, what was the word, pessimistic in its views.

"Nevermind. I'll go find myself a date perhaps you might hear me proposing a few months later down the line." He waved his hand dismissing it. Her eyes narrowed.

"What? June did say you were going to the mall to do some shopping. A darling she is and am glad to have her but her clothing tastes," hesitating whether to continue, "need some work. No offence."

"No, she doesn't. Her tastes are . . . terrible, I know. Stop looking so smug, dummy." All that bravado and protection boils down to this, Daniel thought this would be a good day. All in a good day's work. He chuckled seeing her expression. Her purple mirrors blazed like dancing tulips in an autumn wind. Free. Wild. Damn, he loved his sister.

Noticing the time on the clock suspended oI the wall, the moment ended much to their disappointment. 6:03 am. By the time he dealt the dishes justice, her bag was on her back, phone bulging in her pocket, ear pods hanging from her ears probably playing a love song. How he knew? Well he got an earful of it every weekend that passes. Her hair was combed and pinned by the black hairpiece. Her face looked relaxed, less of the sleeping beauty that drooled last night. Blue jeans, white 'Sweet Alabama' shirt covered by a maroon overcoat. Sneakers, her choice of shoes, he smiled at that. Seemingly always on the run to something.

"Ready for that test, Abi?"

"God, don't ask!" Her voice a drawl and groan mixed in.

"Well good luck." He decided against something and hugged her. Just the gesture froze her movements. It was a friendly hug of course (before yall just attack me). She hugged him back. A second later he let go.

"Good luck, as I've said, Abi . Stomp that exam like a champ and we'll see what we can do about getting that broach from mom's room." Her eyes widened to saucers as she sauntered to University and murmured in excitement. He watched her figure pass until it became but a dot in the ocean of green.

[Mission Accepted: **Survive until the end of the day.**

Timeframe: 17hrs 47mins 26sec

Penalty: Amnesia

Award:???]