User blog:Drix153/He Opened His Eyes

“What is this? No, it cannot be… I am on Freneskae?” His voice reverberated all around him, slicing through the silent air like dragon metal through flesh. It scared him. “This is impossible! No… No!”

Fiery smoke erupted from his hands and struck the ground before him – at least, he thought it did. When he looked again, he saw that the smoke did not strike the ground at all; instead, it now hovered over the ground, condensed into a singular point. As if feeling his gaze upon it, the ball of smoke then rocketed off into the turbulent sky above him.

That was not right.

“None of this is right,” he mused. “I should not be here, yet… Think, Ptolemos. Think.”

His attempts to concentrate and remember how he got here were fruitless. He could not think clearly. Without warning, everything around him started to spin; dizzy, Ptolemos collapsed onto his hands and knees. His mind, at first, did not register the pain that shot through him as the slate bit into his flesh.

'''Flesh. '''

His eyes tried to fix onto his right hand, but they encountered resistance. Why was it so hard to focus, he wondered. Ptolemos struggled for several minutes before the opposing force relented. He rejoiced at this small victory, but his triumphant expression transformed into one of horror. “H-… How?” The question came out as a feeble croak.

His pearlescent skin contrasted heavily with the dark ground below him, where already the blood from his cuts was slowly pooled. His gaze then dropped to the reflection in the blood; red eyes stared back at him beneath striped skin-folds. It was a haunting sight.

It was him – rejuvenated.

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(Got bored and thought I'd try to write a story full of Mahjarrat-y goodness. Not sure if I'll continue with this or not, but you never know. I get bored a lot.)