Arsebia: The Price of Power

My lungs burned with each ragged breath. Branches whipped across my face as I stumbled through the snow-laden forest, leaving a trail of crimson droplets behind me. The wound in my side throbbed, and my legs threatened to give out with each desperate step.

Heavy footfalls crunched through the snow behind me. The guards were getting closer.

"Over here! The tracks lead this way!"

I pressed my hand against my side, trying to stem the bleeding. Who were they? Why were they chasing me? My head pounded as I tried to grasp at memories that slipped away like smoke. Nothing. Not even my own name felt certain - only "March" echoed in my mind, along with a strange whisper of "Lion" that made no sense.

The pain in my head intensified. Flashes of images - meaningless fragments that disappeared before I could grasp them. A sword. A burst of light. Someone screaming.

I tripped over a hidden root and crashed into the deep snow. The impact drove what little air remained from my lungs. My muscles screamed in protest as I tried to push myself up, but my strength had finally abandoned me.

The pristine white snow beneath me slowly turned red. I watched with detached fascination as my blood spread outward in delicate patterns. The shouting grew closer, but it seemed distant now, muffled by the gentle fall of snowflakes.

My vision blurred. The last thing I saw was my own blood staining the pure white canvas of snow before darkness claimed me

* * *

Pain jolted through my body as consciousness returned. Cold metal bit into my wrists and ankles - steel chains bound me to a wooden chair. The room stank of mold and decay, with only a thin sliver of light seeping under what looked like a heavy door.

A lock clicked. The door creaked open, revealing three silhouettes. Two remained by the entrance while the third limped forward, his wooden stick tapping against the stone floor.

"The mighty March." The man's voice carried a mix of contempt and amusement. He stepped into the light - gaunt face covered in scars, dark eyes that seemed to pierce through me. "Nothing to say?"

I opened my cracked lips but before I could speak, his fist connected with my jaw. The chair rocked backward.

"That's for Eastgate." Another blow. "And that's for Karina."

Blood filled my mouth. Names and places meant nothing to me, floating past like debris in a river.

The man - Dzvali, I heard one guard whisper - grabbed my chin. "Come on, show me that famous temper. Break these chains like you did in Redkeep."

I stared back blankly, tasting copper on my tongue.

Dzvali's expression shifted. His dark eyes narrowed and something pressed against my mind - like fingers rifling through blank pages.

"Fascinating." He released my chin and stepped back. "You really don't remember anything, do you?" A harsh laugh echoed off the walls. "The great Lion, reduced to a mewling kitten. How fitting."

"Who... who are you?"

"Someone you should remember very well. But this..." He gestured at my confused state with his stick. "This is even better than revenge. The mighty March, lost and alone"

He turned to his guards. "Take him to the pit. I'm sure everyone will be thrilled to reunite with their favorite prisoner."

"What did I do to you?" I called out as the guards unchained me from the chair.

"Don't worry, March. You'll have plenty of time to try remembering." His laughter followed me as the guards dragged me away.

* * *

My consciousness flickered like a dying flame, fading in and out with each rough step. The guards' iron grip on my arms felt distant yet painful, their armored gauntlets digging into my flesh as they dragged me through winding corridors. The cold stone beneath my feet seemed to shift and sway, everything blurring together in a nauseating dance. My head lolled forward, each jolting movement sending waves of white-hot agony through my battered body.

The screech of rusted hinges pierced through my stupor like a knife. A brutal shove from behind sent me sprawling onto rough stone, my hands too slow to break my fall. Pain exploded through my shoulder and ribs, drawing an involuntary cry from my throat that echoed off the damp walls.

Movement in the darkness caught my bleary attention. A massive shadow rose from the corner like some ancient creature, blocking what little light filtered through the cell bars. My muscles tensed instinctively despite their exhaustion, my body preparing for a fight it couldn't possibly win - this figure towered over me like a bear ready to strike.

"Wait... let me tell you something-" I raised my trembling hand, desperate to prevent whatever violence was surely coming. My voice sounded weak even to my own ears.

"March, is that you?" The voice that rumbled from the shadow held none of the menace I expected. Instead, it carried a gentleness that seemed impossible from someone so large, like thunder wrapped in velvet.

Time stretched between us like pulled taffy, reality seeming to blur at the edges. My head began to throb with increasing intensity, each pulse matching my racing heartbeat.

"It's me April... is that really you?"

The name hit me like a physical blow, reverberating through my skull. Images crashed through my mind - fragments of memories sharp as broken glass, cutting through the fog of confusion:

A massive man with a black beard lifting a fallen tree from a trapped deer, his movements careful and precise...

Laughter around a campfire as he tended to someone's wounds, his large hands surprisingly delicate in their work...

His voice, calm and steady during a storm that threatened to tear our shelter apart...

The two of us standing back-to-back, surrounded by something I couldn't quite see, trust flowing between us like an invisible current...

I pressed my palms against my temples, trying desperately to hold onto these fleeting glimpses of a past I couldn't quite grasp. The pain in my head intensified with each new image. We were friends. Close friends. The certainty of it rang true in my bones even as the specific memories slipped away like water through my fingers, leaving behind only the ghost of familiarity and an aching sense of loss.

"I... I know we were friends." My voice cracked as I pressed my fingers against my throbbing temples. "But everything's fragmented. Like looking through broken glass. I catch glimpses, but when I try to focus, they slip away."

"Do you remember where you were?" April's deep voice carried a note of urgency.

I shook my head, wincing at the movement. "Nothing. Just snow, blood, and darkness before waking up here."

April's massive frame sank down beside me, his presence both familiar and strange. "You disappeared three months ago, March. You and July were supposed to meet in a small village - when we got there..." His voice tightened. "Everything was destroyed. No survivors, no bodies, no traces. Both of you vanished."

My heart clenched at the name 'July', but the face, the connection - it remained locked away in the void of my missing memories.

"We searched everywhere." April's beard brushed against his chest as he bowed his head. "Some thought you were dead. But we couldn't and wouldn't accept that."

He shifted closer, placing his large hand on my shoulder. The touch sparked another fragment of memory - this same gesture, repeated countless times before. April closed his eyes, and warmth spread from his palm through my battered body. The sharp edges of pain dulled, my breathing came easier, and the fog in my head cleared slightly.

After a minute, he pulled back. "That's all I can do. I could heal you fully if we were outside of prison, but until we are here, that's not possible."

April's face darkened. "Feel the walls around us - those black veins running through the stone? Absorption crystals. They're harvesting magic from every prisoner here, draining us dry to create weapon-grade stones."

I ran my fingers across the rough surface, tracing the obsidian lines that pulsed with an eerie glow. "That explains the weakness. Though it hardly matters in my case - can't drain what I can't access."

April's massive frame went rigid. His beard twitched as his jaw clenched, then unclenched. The shock in his eyes lasted only a moment before softening into something closer to concern.

"You truly don't remember any of it? The way you could..." He cut himself off, shaking his head. "No. Now isn't the time."

My head throbbed with renewed intensity. More fragments teased at the edges of my consciousness - flashes of light, the sensation of power coursing through my veins - but trying to grasp them was like catching smoke.

"It's all just... blank. Sometimes I get pieces, impressions. But nothing solid." I slumped against the wall, exhaustion seeping into my bones. The healing had helped, but my body still felt like it had been trampled by horses.

April's hand found my shoulder again. "You need rest, brother. Breakfast is at dawn - we can talk more then. Your memories may be gone, but you're not alone anymore."

The word 'brother' stirred something deep within me - not a memory exactly, but a feeling of rightness, of belonging. I nodded, already feeling sleep's heavy pull.

"Thank you, April. For everything."

"Sleep now, March. We have much to discuss when you wake."