Devereaux/Paradise

*“Paradise”*
*Said you would rather die young*

*Live for the moment, forget tomorrow*

*Guess that you'll got it all wrong*

*Still tryna find out which road to follow*

*(Paradise, Alan Walker)*

--

Leyla had always shined with an interest in the outside world. The stories that she grew up with were embedded into her, the tales of magic a constant whisper in the back of her mind. A secret dream had nestled into her, to see what was above her home.

She now achieved that, but not in the way she hoped.

Instead of frolicking with imaginary creatures or climbing real trees, the attitude pulsing around her was a low dull hum of despair and flickers of hopelessness. Most likely common for a dungeon.

Leyla didn’t know exactly where she was, but she was in a small rectangle with slate walls and stone. The room was small, and spreading herself out she could touch all four sides. Wet air clung to her tattered clothes, and her shoes were lightly damp from trickles of water. It didn’t smell bad, however, and seemed less hopeless and more dignified.

It was too dark to see much, but for a child who grew up in the dark, she saw more than her captors would probably want. Not like anything would help her. There was a wooden bucket, and guards had occasionally come in to fill it up and the door was solid metal - no windows. She had only faint screams, whispered, and heavy steps to tell her of what was beyond that door.

Her hands were bound in front of her, and light shackles rested on her feet and connected her to the floor. Unnecessary. She was a peasant and knew nothing of fighting or escaping.

Currently, Leyla was resting against the back wall, her eyes closed and her form completely still.

She could only sleep, but that brought about the nightmares, but they were still there when Leyla was awake.

—-

“Vin, Vin, stay with me!” She remembered her friend collapsing in her arms, and the panic from then was still worming its way through her.

“You need to wake up.” Was she crying? Leyla sunk down to the ground, covering Vin’s body with her own. There were screams, panic and death and fire and terror raging around her, and the screech of the moment was too much.

“Please, Vin we have to go - VIN!”

“Don’t give up on me, get up, get up Vin, you have to wake up.” Then someone had snatched Vin from Leyla’s arms, someone bigger than Leyla. They held Vin steadily, and grabbed Leyla’s arm, pulling her up .

“I have her. You need to go.” The voice was Trelinian and rung with a few strands of familiarity, but there was no benefit from trying to place it.

Vin and the figure ran off, weaving between the crowds at a pace and strength to where Leyla couldn’t keep up. SHe chased after them, trying and screaming for the stranger and Vin to come back, to not leave her behind, to follow them and help protect Vin, to do anything.

She eventually found herself falling to the ground as the stress choked out her remaining energy.

—-

“Prisoner eleven-seventeen.”

Leyla didn’t move.

“Prisoner eleven-seventeen, stand up.”

Leyla’s eyes flared open, and she registered an open door and a guard cloaked in midnight blue staring at her, their hand steady on the hilt of a sword.

She studied them closely; they had gray metal armor looking rather light, moveable, yet durable. She couldn’t make out much; long boots and gloves obscured their feet and hands, and a dark cloak covered most of their features, and the face was covered by a metal cap with fur on the understand and a black mask.

She stood up, feeling the effort dragging onto her. Her body was tired and hungry, and Leyla was dampened by a sense of worry that clouded her senses and strength.

Her eyes caught a chain dangling from the guard’s belt, and Leyla held out her arms in front of her. The guard hooked her handcuffs to the chain, wrapped it around their wrist, and led her out of the cell. She caught more cell doors and the motion of a few more guards before a blindfold fell over her eyes, leaving her to her ears for knowledge.

And then they were walking,.

Straight, at first, then right (hopefully?) and then two lefts (she thinks).

Eventually, the background noise of the other solider were gone, and there was just her guard and her, and the blindfold seemed to grow a little darker. Anticipation wrestled inside her, laughing, screaming, dancing, crying - just a whirl, a small whirl of dread.

Someone yanked the blindfold off of her eyes.

(wip)

—-

“Vin! Vin, where are you?”

“VIN!”

—-

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