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•| ⊱ CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT ⊰ |•
❛❛ a sense of déjà vu ❜❜
In a world of false realities and sweet dreams, there was the adeptus, lost in the place as his charcoal and cerulean locks ripple along the cold breeze. His flaxen orbs widen to two full moons, his jaw falling agape at the truth resurfacing.
He looks to his right, his gloved hands restrained and cuffed by thin, pitch black threads restricting him from making any movement. It perplexed him, just a moment ago he has you in his arms but as soon as he opens his eyes again, he's in an unknown domain all of a sudden.
The gust of wind then stops for a second, wilted petals meeting with Xiao's vision. Everything apart from the withered flowers was colorful and vibrant, but a worried gut feeling kicks in inside him.
"Alatus, the remaining Yaksha."
The raucous, hoarse voice rings a bell to Xiao as he shift his gaze from place to place in search of who those very words came from.
He struggles to escape from the binds, wriggling his wrists to get rid of the puny threads. "Show yourself!" His voice echoes throughout the place, fury laced in the two words he uttered.
Frustration and confusion wasn't one of the nicest combinations to feel when one is in an unknown realm, in which everything feels surreal and fallacious. A pause of silence occurs for a minute, but was broken right after.
"I am not obliged to show my true form to you." The obscure owner of the voice answers, earning a dissatisfied click of tongue from Xiao.
Countless petals still continued to fall down in a horizontal blur from the endless sky. When suddenly the adeptus felt a slight tug of pressure on his torso; he looks down and sees the quilt of threads now confining his upper body as he tries once again to break free from the binds but he only failed in doing so.
