Everkant series ep. 14 / 1st draft

Pre-cataclysm

He wakes up with a foot on his face. Now, that's something new. His jaw aches as he drags his eyes open. Another foot is coming. This time aiming straight at his nose. He gusts his power like an involuntary reflex and coats himself in fire. The attacker doesn't quit. Seph is still lying down with a bruise on his left cheek and a few less teeth than he'd like. Who could take a guardian by surprise? He knows he should be focused on his enemy, but curiosity always got the best of him. He didn't let his guard down. He set up an incan around him before he decided to rest for the night. Incan is short for incandescence, one of the first techniques guardians learn to defend themselves. It's a dome of sorts. The kind that a normal human being wouldn't be able to trespass without suffering serious, lethal, harm. He checks for a moment to see if it's still up. It is. He could manipulate the fires of heaven and hell in his sleep, but somehow here he is being put down like an animal. He wants to laugh. It's been a while since he had a real challenge, but not even other guardians can penetrate an incan. At least not a master level like his. Not even a tutor, since that's only a fancy title given to bored guardians that are too tired of travelling and doing god's will outside the dark city. No, this is something else. He tries to get up and take a good look at who is attacking him, what is attacking him. He fails. He can hardly coat himself. He's starting to feel the blade down his shoulder. It's cold and then warm. He sees blood dripping. He needs to do something. Except he can't. Another swing is coming. This time he can see it. He musters up a fire ball and throws it like a child. It fails the target, but should be powerful enough to gain him some time. He cauterizes his wound in an instant - another technique guardians learn. It hurts, but it won't bleed anymore. He can worry about infection later. He doesn't have a horse, so all he can do is run. Seph isn't one to take chances. Live and laugh it off, he'd always say. This time he won't laugh as much, but he'll live. Oh, yes. He'll live. He's clear headed now. The enemy seems to be struggling with all the dust and smoke the fireball threw in the air. That's his chance. He won't attack. He won't dare. That thing isn't normal. He runs as fast as he can, leaving a trail of fire, smoke and ashes behind in the off-chance that will be enough to survive.