Boil
#2 of Fursona Short-Stories
A bit of a follow-up to Toil.
Wisps flew around his head but he didn't seem to notice them. Small balls of great power, some blood red, others blobs of fire that looked akin to tiny suns. They circled, charged, retreated, and even twisted into different shapes, flying around the orange goat's head like flies near a corpse. As thin as a skeleton, covered by a purple robe with prayer beads twisted around his arms like tight rope.
Corran stood before him, just a couple of arms lengths away from the obsidian throne the goat sat upon. Corran's bare feet stood against grey stone, and yet he didn't feel it. He didn't feel anything. The deer moved his hands, he held them in front of his face. He could move, but he still felt nothing. Physically it was like he was a ghost... but he couldn't have been one, his body was there! Naked, vulnerable, but there!
It felt as if he was an outside force like his body was a toy and he stood far away, directing movement through a controller.
"Something to show you."
The goat's voice echoed into the void. A whisper that caused the mysterious figure to cringe with effort as if every word pained him.
"Show me?" Corran's lips moved, but the sound didn't come from his mouth. Rather it cut through the void itself, a faraway thing that came from nowhere towards the goat and his throne as if Corran was calling him over a great distance.
"Can't... show much... little time... little power."
Slowly and with considerable effort, the goat lifted his arm, reaching out a bony finger and pointing directly at Corran.
"Show...."
Seconds passed and nothing happened. The old man seemed to be concentrating, focusing his dull grey eyes on the deer. Seconds became minutes, but just as Corran thought to say something, it hit him all at once.
Suddenly he wasn't in the throne room anymore. A surge of pain shot through his head and he shut his amber eyes. Within an instant, the pain passed and his eyes opened. He saw himself... a different self. The alternate Corran was clad in silver robes laced with gold. He held a golden staff, standing under a sky that was completely red. His teeth were grit in concentration, his face leaked both sweat and blood and an army of knights were at his back.
"Burn!" The mighty deer screamed. Raising his staff high above his head and slamming it down to the ground. A crackle of red energy heralded a great wall of fire that extended as far as the eye could see.
"In Holy fire!"
Another surge of horrible pain struck Corran. He instantly shut his eyes once again, and once again when they opened he was in a different place.
The darkness from the throne room here was similar... but not the same. The void was cold, freezing even - he could tell somehow although he still couldn't feel it. Cold instead of purely nothingness. Another version of himself stood again before Corran. Skeletons stood at his side, black robes wrapped around his much thinner body. His fur wasn't maroon anymore, not exactly. It was far duller, a far greyer red. Twisted and mangled, this Corran's fingers were covered in golden rings with colorful gems, he wore boots of black steel and... his eyes... he didn't have any.
One last surge of blind, burning pain and Corran was back in the throne room.
The goat was clearly exhausted, wheezing loudly while clutching one hand at his chest.
"Necro..." The goat inhaled sharply, following a quick fit of coughing before he regained his ragged voice.
"Mancy. Learn from the Bitch. Contact me,"
"Wh-who are you!?"
The goat visibly flinched, weather it was because Corran raised his voice or not the deer wasn't sure. His thoughts started racing, Corran started to feel panic rising in him, alongside physical feeling. He began to feel the stone beneath his feet, and the room progressively grew hotter.
"Out of time,"
"But!"
"Wake up."
Corran's eyes opened to a ceiling of tree limbs and leaves, soft rays of sunlight poking through the dense mass to lightly illuminate the area. He sat up slowly, tossing the thick wool blanket off of his body and snapping his head behind. His master's hut - dilapidated and with the rickety door closed shut - looked back at him. Around him the forest was alive, it looked totally different from the night before.