Time of Darkness

Wraitheria

Arcan blinked slowly.
"Like... what?"

Wraitheria
"You are dying Arcan, it would be of no use to tell you now..." Nara said.
"And, Undead cannot die they say..."

Arcan shuddred.
"I... don't... want to die, Nara." He looked at her, fearful for the first time.

"No one does Arcan" Nara said.
"No one... except... No, it does not matter..." Nara reasoned to herself quietly.
"So many secrets Naralda, so many... and why, what does it achieve I ask myself, anything? Nothing...?"

Something caused Arcan to yelp with pain.
He moaned something that seemed to be gibberish.
"Don't make me go back there... Don't... they'll do that to me again..." He whimpered.

-8 days AA-

After the initial pain and horror of death itself, Arcan thought, perhaps, his main worries - his troubles - were over.
He was wrong.
Still, he'd been drawn to the feeling of being there... yet, not.
Then it felt like someone was drilling nails into his mind, writhing around to find exactly why he'd done what he had.
He wanted to say he was sorry...
But he couldn't. Then Zehraku had let him go. Let him know exactly what he thought of his son, and done it again.
But... then he was back there.
Back there, alive?

"Arcan!" Nara said.
"Arcan, are you all right..."

-Duren'Garad-

The dragon flew higher into the air.
"Come out... Come out..."

Arcan, if he could hear her at all, wasn't listening.
His glowing eye was almost a circle, staring at something back the way they came.
Greetings, Naralda. A voice twisted through the air.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Arcan shrieked, grabbing his head.

Nara looked around for the source of the voice.
A small frostball formed in her hand.
"Show yourself! Or I'll throw this and hope it hits you..." She began, before muttering "Or a diseased beast, that helps too"

Please, do not.
Meanwhile, Arcan was sitting rigidly.
"My-my-my-my-..." -- He was stuck saying the same word.
What your friend here is attempting to tell you, is something along the lines of 'my father'."

"My father? Why would he say that, and also, how do you know my 'real' name?" She asked curiously.

Because, I am Zehraku. I am Arcan's father.
The voice said calmly.

"And what do you want...?" Nara asked.
"And how do you know my name is Naralda?"

I know these things. He said simply.
A thin tendril of light reached over to Arcan.
Unfortunate...

"Is... is... Arcan dead...?" Nara asked, watching.

No. He is dying. He will die, unless you can help him.
The tendril rested on his slightly.
Arcan groaned.

"How could I help...? Inless... but no, not that spell surely?" She muttered to herself.

Zehraku sounded surprised;
I was unaware he felt that way. Strange.

"What is strange?" Nara asked.
"and what can I do to aid him?"

Oh dear. Zehraku said.
Before Nara could have asked 'what?', Arcan screeched again.
I am not sure how you can help him. I would be saddened to see him die.

Nara shrugged.
"I do remember a basic spell which can heal the wounds of undead"
Nara knew that was a lie, she did remember it, and it was not basic.

Arcan looked at her.
"What..." He mumbled.

"Arcan..." She began.
"Do you think I should try the spell?" She asked the voice.

Ask the one who you shall perform it upon. I must leave. We have spoken. Zehraku said.
Arcan twitched a few times.

"Eh, Arcan, I know a spell that might be able to heal you... Should I try it...?" She asked.

The shadow Arcan so carefully wove around himself was looking like tattered fabric, fading and splitting in places, writhing around.
From what could be seen of him, Arcan was even paler that usual. He was beyond 'pale', in fact.
His only reply was a strained breath and a very shaky nod.

"I hope this works.." She muttered. Her hands carefully moving and glowing slightly green.
"Nar, tai thar... see'll tela" Nara cast the spell on Arcan and watched to see if anything happened.