13. Second Element: Jufgr

Water was heard dripping from the ceiling. Doren opened his blue eyes and couldn't see an inch in front of him. He turned his head and squinted his eyes. his eyes wouldn't adjust to this level of darkness.

He picked himself up off the cold floor and heard the rattle of chains and shackles. Trying to focus, his head began throbbing. From, what Doren thought was the other corner of the room, he heard someone cough.

Doren perked up, and whispered, "Meko? Katrina?"

"Bastille." A gritty, deep voice answered. "Sorry to disappoint."

Doren sighed and sat down with his legs crossed. "No, you're fine. Doren by the way."

"Pleasure to meet you. And boy, am I glad to hear another voice." Bastille responded. He rubbed his nose, the chains clanking against his armor. "Its been a very long time."

"How long?" Doren asked.

"Honestly. I have no idea. A day, week, month, a freaking year." he let out a sigh, "I just don't know." A couple moments of silence passed before he asked Doren, "Where did they get you?"

"Just outside of Mixento. We were almost there." Doren said trying to wiggle out of the chains.

"Mixento? You mean Etern? Great." his head could be heard hitting against the wall. "I'm far from home now."

"Where are you from? Doren asked.

"Embania. The land of fire." Bastille formed a small flame on the tip of his finger. Doren finally saw the feature of the man's face. He had a full black beard, his eyes charcoal black from his pupils being exposed to the darkness. He had a helmet next to him that had splattered blood on the front of it. Scars covered him.

Doren had never seen what a true warrior had looked at besides charcoal drawings in old books. This man was everything the texts described. But in this state he looked nothing more than a beggar.

Bastille let out a smile behind the fire. "Get comfortable son, for we will be in here for a very long time."

The flame went out.

Time stood still. In such a setting a normal person would lose their mind. How long had Doren been in there? In order to refrain and keep his sanity, Doren decided to meditate.

And so he did. He sat with his legs crossed, clear minded, and breathed.

It had to of been a couple hours before anything happened. Doren was able to open his eyes and see all the features of the room. From the buckets next to them, to the extra shackles in the other corners of the room. There was no windows. No doors. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all made out of the same material.

Doren bent down and knocked against the floor. There was no echo or sound from his knuckles hitting it. He tried pushing the wall. Like a sponge, it absorbed Doren's force but quickly re shaped.

He looked over to the dying figure of Bastille. "Hey, do you have a sword?" Doren asked but there was no response. "Bastille?"

"He can't hear you." a voice came from his right. He turned to a figure in white. It's figure was hard to make out and when it spoke, a female voice was behind it. "Hello. I am Jufgr." It's voice was melodic, as if it was sung. "I must be quick. For a whole kingdom is in danger." She reached out a hand and touched Doren's forehead. "Always be kind. Always have an open mind. I Grant you, Doren of the Powerhart, Light."

The body of the being expanded, brightening every nook and cranny of the box they were held it. It then imploded and Doren fell back. From the sitting position of when he was meditating, he now looked up at the ceiling.

The ceiling was now barely visible for his eyes had finally adjusted. He sat up and rubbed where the cuffs were. As he massaged the area, he heard the cuffs click off and fall to the floor. With excitement, he tried touching the other cuffs. The rest of them had fell to the floor.

Bastille looked up. "What was that?" he asked.

"My cuffs are off." he ran to the other side of the room and touched Bastille's cuffs. However, they did not do the same thing as Doren's. He kept trying but could not get them off.

Finally Bastille shook his head. "It's no good. I'm destined to die here." He flicked a finger and the flame danced on the tip of his finger. "Say, if you're ever if Embania and happen to stumble upon a small village, goes by Flicker, can you say hello to my daughter for me? Her name is Harper."

"How about you tell her yourself?" Doren grunted. He held the cuffs in his hand and a small light formed on his palms. The cuffs clicked and fell off. Within seconds, Bastille was free.

The large man stood up, weakened from the state he was in. Noticing how weak he actually was, Doren put a finger to Bastille's forehead. The man before him began glowing and in the blink of an eye, regained his muscle mass. His legs were no longer fragile and he could easily move about. Unknowingly, Doren had healed this man.

"I guess now we escape the room." Doren looked up at Bastille. "I say we begin hitting the walls." Doren said with a smirk. With a fist ready, air had began spinning around it. He brought a fist back. "Air Bullet!" he yelled as his fist made contact with the wall.

The wall absorb the hit, as the air in the room rushed to the point of contact. Without taking his and Bastille's breath away, he drew back. With no luck on his strike, Bastille stood in front of him.

"Dragon Fist!" Bastille yelled, striking where Doren had. His strike made much more of a crater in the wall than Doren's. After he moved his fist back, the area that he hit still burnt. The ember's just kept burning away at the material, but didn't break through the wall.

The next couple minutes consisted of them hitting the wall. Finally Bastille groaned, "What do you remember of the day you were taken?"

Doren sat for a second, trying to recall what happened before being taken. "I just remember Darkness." he said rubbing his chin.

"Okay, so that power of yours. Is it Light?" Bastille asked.

"Yeah. I just got it. Or unlocked it. Or inherited it. I don't know." he put a hand on his chest over his heart. "I don't know how the Powerhart works."

"The... Powerhart?"

"Yeah." Doren tried using Light. He focused his power to the palm if his hand. The hand began glowing, but it was dim. "It's been nothing but hassle. Watching my brothers and sisters grow up using their powers. And here I am. Just now gaining them."

"Be glad you actually got something like. In Embania, we are either born with powers or we're Laborers. So be lucky you even have anything." Bastille said. He pointed to the burnt area of the wall. "Why dont you try using your light power right here. Think of the light as... As an extension of you. And once you're able to fully unleash your potential, this extension becomes extensions."

Doren put his hand to the beat up section of the wall. Though it reshaped, it still had wear and tear on it. Closing his eyes, he could see his hand brighten up through his eyelids. A beam of light then shot out of his hand. With no recoil to it, Doren opened his eyes.

There. Right before him was daylight. He focused his power into the palm of his hand again and the beam reappeared, shaving the wall as if it was a knife to a potato. An opening just big enough for the two was now in front of them.

Finally it was an escape. Bastille frantically exited the room and took in the fresh air. It was the first time Bastille had seen the light of day in two months.