Many Days...
'XueYa, you have been mean to LiangLin lately.'
'He is only worried about you.'
'You need to rest.'
'Go back to your mate, XueYa... '
Mang HuaZhen's voice seemed muddled, obscured by veils of smoke.
In the darkness, there was only XueYa and the beast, the ever oppressive scent of rot and death that crippled his lungs and made his insides twist into knots.
No starry nights that expanded over the ocean blue, no cold light of the full moon that had caressed his cheeks before they had entered the enchanted fog.
The air was damp, his skin wet, yet he couldn't see, unable to know if what dripped from his body and hit the obsidian scales forming his prison was his blood, the beast's blood, or something else.
A low, rumbling hiss persisted. The scales quivered as the beast inhaled. Exhaled.
There was no escape. In the vast emptiness, there was no way out.