If there was one thing Hamoutan was good at despite his stature, it was running. So he did. He took off as quick as a horse as soon as he heard the deafening metallic roar of the creature wincing and roaring in pain. He was almost empathetic. Almost.
He could hear the footsteps of men shouting and running around behind him, but he alone could see now, as the Mosalli changed itself to green and fell into a deep slumber.
His feet dug and dug into the muddy swamps as he ran forward, hoping to find a semblance of his route backward. All that were in his vision were trees, bushes and the never ending fog.
And… the stench of nixsteel.
To Hamoutan, in the frenzy that he was, nothing mattered, nothing should have. But he stopped. He could sense the growing proximity of the stench, as he quickly shut his nose down with one hand.
Hamoutan looked around as his feet dug into the mud, his eyes scanning through the thick fog which slowly turned into a grape violet. Suddenly, all the sounds of the footsteps vanished, as if they never existed.
Unable to grasp his surroundings, he flailed his hands around, grabbing at nothing.
'Can't run… don't know where they are.' he thought to himself as he slowly walked deeper into the blinding fog.
There was a faint rumbling he could feet in the ground beneath his boots. Barely, yet noticeable. He walked in a silent frenzy as he put his hand onto his pockets, unearthing a blade, the size of a fingernail, carefully crafted so that it could be hidden.
Hamoutan shivered, as he scanned his surroundings relentlessly, to no avail. The silence was deafening.
He could feel it.
He could sense that something was happening in the ground beneath him. He could feel the very pulse of it. As if it was…
'Alive.' Hamoutan gasped.
His senses began to null as he ran forward with all his might, each step he took feeling like a huge weight on his lungs. The air around him suffocating him.
It felt like a boulder being placed on his back for one step, and then another, and then another for each step.
He finally stopped to catch his breath. And shut his eyes close as he frantically coughed.
'No, no, no!' Hamoutan spat onto the ground. 'What the fuck is happening? This was my chance to escape!'
He began shivering and clasped his hands onto his chest.
'Try again, try again. Being here is only going to get you caught!' Hamoutan thought to himself.
'I have to escape from here. From this.'
He knelt down to take his run up, to sprint again.
'From what?'
He noticed something, the ground wasn't wet anymore.
He gasped, as he fell down flat onto his back in shock. His whole body felt the brunt of the ground beneath him. The locket in his neck snapped and fell beside him.
Hamoutan could only recognise it by the feeling and sound, as his sight was long gone.
'How far did I travel from the swamps? Am I near the camp?' he wondered. But however, the smell of the fresh trees betrayed his hope. He felt the Mosalli on the top of his head now wake up and groan. This thing stuck to his head, all hope lost.
The stench of nixsteel grew stronger. Closer.
He tried to stand up, move from the position in which he fell down. However, it felt like the fog itself kept him down. The pulsing of the ground growing bigger, grotesque. He could now feel it moving around, like a revolving heartbeat.
It felt and displayed loathing, disgust and anger through the vibrations alone. Hamoutan remained glued to the ground, shivering. And he knew he could say the same for the Mosalli.
'What should I do?' he thought.
'No, what can I do?'
Thoughts raced his mind. Memories. Good memories, bad memories. Feelings. He could remember his baby brother's first steps, he could remember how he scarred his fingers trying to practice daggerduels. He could remember how he hid during the invasion.
'Hiding like a coward, while my family fought to protect their honour…'
Hamoutan felt the ground stop pulsing.
'Wait. These thoughts aren't mine. They're being put into my head.'
Anger clouded his mind. To have all these repressed thoughts brought out again. Someone, or something was there with him.
He desperately wanted to stand up, to fight back. But he was scared, scared that it might be the last time he might ever stand up. He could feel the weight of the fog lift away from him.
He could slowly begin to see the blurry lines of his surroundings, pitch black mixed with bush green.
But from inside there, he could see a particularly distinguished purple light coming out partially. It was almost.. square. Almost pixelated. Like it was in a world where it didn't belong. Hamoutan was beginning to get distracted by the strangeness of it.
'This is not the time to falter.' He remembered a line he had long forgotten.
He could see his father, or rather his silhouette in front of him, his back covered in arrows of the multiple hands insignia, his robes half-flamed.
Tears formed in Hamoutan's eyes. "Father.."
That was about the only thing he could see now, as he saw his father, wincing in pain, yet looking him in the eye.
"Hamou, look at me. You must take care of your brother, and your sister. You must not falter. Get away from here. You must-"
He looked as blood gushed out from his father's mouth, his long thick beard now covered in rose red. "This is not your war. This is not your fate."
"Father… I don't know what I am doing. I.." Hamoutan scrambled for words, knowing that this was merely a relived memory. Yet he could remember so little of it.
A burning hand quickly grabbed his shirt, as the now dying man pulled him closer, looking him in the eye.
"If dying like a dog is what is written for you.." He coughed blood.
"If that is what your fate is… Then struggle against it with all your might."
The head finally felt to the floor with an arrow strike from the back piercing it.
Hamoutan snapped back to reality. He had finally regained his vision. His tears clearing the way for better vision, his hands grasping the mud beneath him in shock, the pulsing no longer being felt. The stench of the nixsteel now felt farther.
He came to his senses and quickly moved along the ground, to recover his locket. And to make a run for it.
'My battle right now is to survive. To live.' He thought to himself as he grabbed the lock from the ground, and opened it. There was a picture of Seyvic, and Ileya each to one side. Little kids with innocence in them.
He felt his strength return to him. As if the fog said 'Stand up.'
He finally felt his vision completely clear up, as he finally got onto his knees again. However, everything stopped being violet and green. The fog began to clear.
He could see a clear pathway from the middle, to wherever it lead, but far from this mess, yet the fog was still surrounding him, like it clung to him. He put one hand on the ground again to stand up, however a slight creak in front of him jolted him awake.
The screen of fog began to clear, as he could now see the source of the light. Partially, yet as the smoke cleared, there was now a better view of him. Of that.
That thing that stood there.
Hamou tightly grit his teeth. His hands forming into a fist. He bit his lip hard as his breath began to fasten. His blinking faster. He could now feel the weight of the world on his beating heart, as he now stared at it. He remembered it now.
The Mosalli on the top of his head now began to twitch, grabbing onto Hamou's hair again.
The rectangular white mask, the staff made out of a rotten hand, the seemingly intangible body shaped like a cloak. The diamond shaped black crystals as thin as paper surrounding it's vicinity, the lack of any movement. Even with just a silhouette, and not a clear view, there was no mistaking it. Hamoutan could feel the blood in his veins boiling in anger.
'The Scholar.'