A Hero In The Dark

Chapter 137: Back to the Present

I gasp and cough, my throat as dry as a desert. Covered in sand but not buried in it.

Five is holding me in his lap, supporting my head. Nine is by my side. Pixie's short rabbit tongue licks my hand.

I am outside the chamber I was trapped in.

"Oh, thank god," Five says, pulling me close into a hug.

Nine breathes out a sigh of relief. "You scared the shit out of us Em," he says.

I don't know what to say. Nine and Five help me sit up and I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do other than cry.

I cry and I sob and I throw myself into their arms. Holding them close and shaking and crying.

For a long moment, neither Five nor Nine react, simply allowing me to hold them. Pixie joins in and that is when Five speaks.

"It's alright. You're safe now."

I breathe over their shoulders with heavy sobs; reply, "I was so scared. I thought I was going to die. I thought-"

"I would never let that happen," Nine says firmly, clutching me tight until my breathing returns to normal. "Never."

We sit and we stay for long enough to let the fear subside and ease replace it. Sit and stay.

My skin feels like sandpaper. My lips are chapped and dry. My hair is caked in dirt and sand and my clothes are wrinkled and torn.

It isn't until the four of us are finally ready to pull away that I notice the rough shape that both Loric are in.

Nine and Five. There are bruises all over their faces. Five's bottom lip is cracked, and dried blood has dripped off from it. Nine's knuckles are bloodied, and his long black hair is a mess.

They have been in a fight. They have been hurt, trying to find me.

"What happened?" I ask, gesturing to their appearance while struggling to swallow my spit in order to get some form of moisture back into my mouth.

Nine waves the question away and makes his way back to his feet, offering a hand to help me up.

I take it.

"Don't worry about us Em. Just know that I punched every goddamn person in the throat as hard as I could to find you. Now we need to get out of here," he says.

I smile, then look to Five.

"What about you? I thought you hated him Five."

Five smiles and briefly glances at the brute before replying, "We put our differences aside for the time being to find the person that we both care dearly about."

Nine rolls his eyes and interrupts before Five can say anything more, "Alright Fivo, that's enough." Then turns back to me and asks, "Emily, do you have your legacies?"

I look him in the eyes with a saddened expression. He seems to understand.

"No," I answer. "There is this girl I met in the Foundation. She has pink hair and she is a Mogadorian. Her name is Magdalena and she claims to have injected me with some kind of parasite. I think it's blocking me off from using my legacies. I don't know how true any of it is, but every now and then, I get immense pains in my head. It's getting worse."

"Getting worse?" Five asks, glaring at Nine now worriedly.

"We'll get you back to Malcolm. He might have an idea of what is going on," Nine says. "Do you think you can walk on your own until we find a way out?"

I release my grip on Nine's hand and almost immediately do I feel unsteady and on the brink of collapse. Five reaches out to steady me, placing his hands at my waist, and I nod my thanks.

"No, I can't," I say in disappointment.

Five and Nine come under each of my arms to relieve some of my weight. Pixie hops ahead and we follow her out into the hallway.

...

The hallways are long and dull and dim.

Every surface and every inch of this place is a dark grey metal alloy. The floor, the walls, the ceiling, the doors to unknown rooms. It all resembles the same chamber I was held in. Only a few fluorescent lights hang overhead every few feet or so apart.

We pass empty prison cells and dozens of unconscious men and unlabelled doors, none of them we check.

We figure that there will be an exit at the farthest point from where we started. That's always how this shit works.

And so, we press on.

It is quiet here; devoid of life. I only wonder why until a loud bang sounds from ahead of us.

Suddenly, there is shouting and the faint noise of cackling fire fills my ears.

With the three of us rooted in confusion, Pixie stops and growls at the darkness ahead, morphing into a creature I haven't seen since the battle of Ashwood.

A Komodo Dragon.

I squint to try and find what it is she is growling at; what it is that she senses.

And there, emerging from around a corner with a white-hot flame in hand, is the one that I was so terrified I had lost.

John.