Fragmented Echoes

Walking into the beast's lair was much like descending into the Abyss. The air got colder, more stale and stagnant. He began to hear breathing - unreasonably loud breathing - and it echoed around him.





Suddenly the cold was replaced by a growing sense of heat that could not be natural. A few steps at a time, he crept closer to his target...but soon it felt like wading through a steam bath. He took slower breaths, trying to calm the nerves that were finally beginning to set in as he considered the rather bleak reality of the situation.

Bleak seemed like a good word, as the remnants of the cold and damp faded completely beneath the rising dry heat. He knew that he must be close, and began silently reciting the instructions he had been given by the elder.

"Walk slowly, softly, and take care to keep your sword away from the walls."
Carefully, he unsheathed his sword - pure silver, as it had a much more profound effect on monsters than steel. He turned a corner in the lair and what other bits of advice he could recall fled from his mind - he was face to face with his prey.

As it turned out, carefully unsheathing his sword had still created enough noise to wake the beast. The knight braced himself as best he could, with a dragon rearing back and drawing in air with enough force to nearly pull the foolish man to his knees. There was a spark, and a horrible rushing sound just preceding a billowing mass of flame.

"Above all, if you are to have any chance of survival, you must keep your mind ---"

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"CLEAR!"

The paramedic placed the defibrillator paddles on the man's chest and delivered the shock. One jolt - one beat of the heart - and the patient's heartbeat monitor went back to that awful flat line.

A moment ago, this was any typical car accident - victims shaken up, but no severe injuries visible to the naked eye. Standard protocol dictated that the response team take both drivers to be inspected more vigorously, but the paramedic had relaxed after the initial examination.

Then, the man who had been sideswiped by the other driver had dropped flat to the ground, unconscious with no pulse. No one had any idea why.

But none of that mattered. Practice had taught the EMT to remove himself from the situation, to absolutely empty his mind. So he continued applying even, rhythmic pressure to the man's chest and blowing what air he could into the man's lungs.

It was raining. That would be the cause of the accident in the police report. By now, all of the first responders were thoroughly soaked. Flashes of lightning cracked the sky and thunder kept making the other driver flinch, as the police took down his recounting of the events leading up to the crash.

The paramedic wiped his forehead to keep the dripping water from his eyes, and as he looked up into a near-blinding lightning strike there was an unmistakable presence in front of him. A silhouette more than anything, but it was a feeling the paramedic recognized all too quickly. Men familiar with death learn the signs - the sinking feeling in the stomach, the way nature seems to recoil and events retain a strange sort of organized chaos in their unfolding.

A deep-seated wave of anger born of pure loathing flooded through the paramedic, his hardened eyes narrowing to pinpoints as he screamed, "Not tonight! You can't have this one!"

His attempts to revive the victim turned frantic, reaching a speed the onlookers had not seen and could not understand. After the third, fourth, fifth shock the man's eyes snapped open with a horrific look of suffering. He couldn't gasp enough air to scream, but it was clear that was the reflex.

The presence faded a little, content as per usual to simply wait. It never lost.
The paramedic, thinking much the same thing, let out a heavy-hearted sigh. One win just didn't seem like enough, these days.

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There may be more to this, I don't know. The ideas are a bit fragmented right now. Hope you enjoyed.

- C