The thought of making a disaster

Chapter 4: Suffering

Jærvun had already wanted to stop training. He was told earlier by his sister that training would be hard.

But now he's begun to think it was her subtly warning him to just not continue at all.

He had broken both of his wings in 8 places, he had trouble breathing, his knees were weak, his arms were heavy, there was blood on his training gear already, and the only words on his mind were 'End me'.

But this wasn't even the brunt of it.

*Earlier*

'Your training starts now. Get clothed and meet me in the kitchen.'

That was all Jærvun had for his morning greeting. He was on the ground clasping his wing. It still hurt from whatever Shiyīvnē had done to it.

He wanted to think he was sleeping in as he had usually done. But the sun hadn't even risen yet, and from the placement of Çhyuūm, it was only 2:09. A full 15 hours from morning and the coldest hour of midnight.

He did not know why he was woken up this early, but he knew better than to shake off his sisters time management.

So he put on his designated training gear and went to his door. The hallway was empty and dim.

(Hey, play this song. It adds atmosphere.)

There was no light to turn on, nor was there anything to emit light.

He felt that something was off.

There was an Ominous feeling as he stood in the doorway of his room.

He knew the way, but when he tried to walk, he found that he couldn't.

The coldness of the night made him unable to be fully comfortable.

He wanted to just stay and wait for daylight. But he knew that wouldn't be an option since someone was waiting for him.

So he forced himself to move.

Slowly at first, only taking small steps and sticking to the lit parts of the hallway.

Then he would come to a complete stop again.

He was now in a part that was devoid of light.

*SLAM*

He turned around to see what caused the sound, only to see that there was nothing to see.

His door had shut itself somehow. And he was now in complete darkness.

He knew he wasn't going to be able to return there and open it. He was already on edge, and turning back to potentially meet whatever closed his door was not something he was willing to put himself through.

So he turned around again and continued walking slowly through the hallway. Despite the coolness of midnight, he was sweating, he felt like he was being watched, but nothing would be able to see in this level of darkness.

He veered slightly to the left as to hopefully find a turn, only to be met with a wall.

Jærvun kept his hand on the wall as he walked through the void that was the hallway.

He kept walking. At least he thinks he is. He had no idea where he was. His only way to know that he was moving was the feeling of the wall moving along his hand.