"If ever something was lost...Zuri Ayim was the one who could recover it."
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Twelve years ago, a meteorite fell among the seven city-states of Kiro, and birthed a new legend. They are calle...
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Aldric threw himself at the door. It shuddered beneath his weight but didn't give, almost as if it were laughing, jeering at him. He grunted, biting down on his lip, backing up and preparing himself to lunge again.
"Finck," Chike said, his voice rising over the thud of Aldric's body as it slammed against the door once more. "Fi—Aldric. Enough. Clearly that's not doing anything. You're just going to hurt yourself."
Aldric whirled with an exhausted exhale of defeat, his breath leaving his mouth in a dense cloud of white mist. Over the past twenty minutes, Aldric had watched Chike deteriorate slowly—a subtle shiver at first, and then he was leaning, sluggish, against the wall, before he finally sank to the floor, the storage rack behind him likely the only thing keeping him upright.
As Aldric watched the energy sputter out behind Chike's eyes, the harrowing danger of the situation in which they'd found themselves revealed itself in full, terrible color.
Chike's regenerative abilities didn't apply to environmental hazards—a bullet wound would close right back up, but there was nothing to stop the cold from slowly eating away at his organs until there was nothing left. Which meant that if Aldric didn't find a way out of there, his friend would freeze to death.
Aldric rubbed at his aching shoulder, his voice gravelly with frustration. "Well, tell me what else I'm supposed to do, Chike. The lock's ice resistant and there's no other exits. We're trapped."
Chike regarded him gravely, the skin under his eyes already tinted a pale, sickly gray. "You could start by calming down."
Aldric almost laughed. He was the very furthest thing from calm. They were on a warship crawling with enemies, armageddon was upon them, and they were stuck in a subzero meat freezer. The more he thought about all of that, the more he wanted to keep punching at the door until his knuckles bled.
Still, he knew Chike was right. He was wasting his time at this rate, and they didn't have enough of that to waste in the first place. Aldric scrubbed a hand over his face, licked his chapped lips. Then he took off his cloak.
Chike's eyes widened in alarm. "What the hell are you doing, Finck?"
"You need it more than I do," Aldric said, tossing the cloak at Chike, and moving to shuck off his shirt. "I can stand the cold; my body's built for it. Put them on, Chike."
"But—"
Aldric glared at him. "I am not going to let you die here. So do what I ask, just this once, okay?"
Chike's lip wobbled, but he bit down on it, nodding his head. He put on the extra layers, every movement painfully slow, as though he were dragging his limbs through water. Time dwindled and dwindled, a tide retreating from shore. Could Aldric do anything but watch it go?
Each inhale stung with biting, gelid air. Aldric strode back the door, banging his fists upon it until his fingers and knuckles were red, until the bones in his arms throbbed in time with the angry beat of his heart. He yelled, screamed, yelled some more. Tried the lock—nothing. Went back to yelling, his voice rising and rising, until his throat shook with the force of it.
