The night held them in a loving embraced. They were the darkness and all the life it held. Feared and forgotten warriors of old. Not good, not bad, but somewhere in the grey.
BTS X READER | based/ inspired of Ryan Kirks Nightblade trilogy. You DON'T...
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Moving without pain, without aches, was just one thing (y/n) used to take for granted. Today her muscles felt as though they have been flash-burned with acid from the inside out. They were just sufficient enough to make moving feel like each living cells have been replaced by ageing rubber bands, thick and twisted. It no longer felt like her legs belonged to her body. She was no more one cohesive machine of blood and bones.
Before her foot could move another inch (y/n) feel her jaw clench and her body scream to stop. She had been walking for days with little rest. She didn't sleep at night encase a hungry bear, or wolf found her and thought she would make a satisfying meal.
The long trek through the forest was made all the worse by the mud. The thick brown paste wasn't cold enough to freeze, yet it clung to (y/n) feet, sapping out the little heat that was left. Icy brown water soaked into her shoes. Her socks were as, sodden as they would be if she were in a terrible rainstorm. The weather had gotten worse over the days making each push harder and harder. Downhill forced her feet to the front of her shoes, so it crushed them. With downhill, there comes an uphill, they were even worse. And with the added weight from her bag, which sat on her back in an uncomfortable possession, it was the fun life-changing journey it was meant to be.
It was hell. It was hell to her back, hell to her legs and shoulders.
She kept wandering through the forest with no plan to follow, or a place to go.The ground was dark despite it being day. The pines would cast shadow from either side of her head, she thought the sun must be brilliant beyond the green above her head.
One tree was better than t rest, the king of the forest. The pine lifted his branches to the sky as if his very presence was enough to beat back the darkness and command the daylight to fall on his papery leaves. His bark shone like the right kind of gold, gold that inspires the mind to heady heights of imagination, opening doors to fantastical kingdoms past her own city. It was no wonder that the tree was beautiful to her with vivid greens and yellows blending into safe cavus. (y/n) went over to the trunk. Her soul needed to recharge, everything in the world felt cold, but the touch of the trunk and strong branches felt like a hug from the heavens above.
She thought she must be deluded to think so much of a tree she definitely needed rest.
She soon forgot the chill in her bones or her soaked clothes or the predators hidden away in the woods. She felt safe tucked in the roots of the grand tree, her eyes flicker closed as the branches swayed in the bitter wind. But the wind never touched her for sleep had already won.
(y/n) woke surrounded by a white light.
Snow fell upon her face. Softer than the kisses her mother used to plant, and just as cold as the memories of her. In this swirl of white, the world was washed anew, like a new page. Under the layer of crystallised water was a path she recognised walking along as a child.
A few snowflakes drifted in front of her; then one of them that was much larger than the rest seemed to hover. The snowflake grew and grew until it seemed to take the shape of a lady dressed in the finest, white robes. She was so beautiful and wonderfully delicate and grand. The lady grabbed her hand, it was as cold as ice.
It was her mother. She was walked with her, hand in hand in the storm.
"I've missed you," she said. "You must do something for me, go to the man in the hut. He'll teach you to be stronger than you've ever imagined."
Snow started to swell around them. (y/n) wanted it to stop and so she could dwell on the finer details of her mothers face: like the crows' feet around her eyes that deepened when she smiled. She didn't want her to disappear again. But something was pulling her away, and erasing her mother completely into the blizzard. She tried to hold on, but it was no use. Eventually, she completely vanished.
"She can't come back, you know? Spring will come but she won't." (y/n) turned around to the voice to see a man in all black. (y/n) stared at the man he had these dull grey eyes, the eyes of a hunter, framed in the passionless face of an executioner.
His blunt hands were steady as they wrapped around the hilt of the sword and pulled the curved blade out. It glinted in his eyes. He slowly lifted the weapon above his head, all his muscles tensed as he sent the metal down into the snow.
As it pierced the crisp white ground, red started to spill from the insertion. From the red a figure grew, it was a lady dressed in crimson robes, her hair filled with flowers of all sorts. The man helped the woman up, and they started to walk away.
"Wait!" she screamed. "Are you the man mother said to find."
He ignored her and kept walking further into the white. She didn't want to be alone, they turn both with a warm smile. Before the snow took them to. (y/n) continued to scream, but her voice echoed into the white nothingness.
(y/n) felt the cold snow beneath her as her knees buckled, tears blurred everything into a hazy mess of white. When she picked her head up off the ground - she saw nothing. There was no sign of the two people that were standing in front of her second ago. There was not even footprint lying in the snow. She was alone once again, this time stuck in the dream.
