Nightmare

Azreal dragged Scath, frantically trying to put distance between where the creature had attacked. ‘Please! Please don’t re-form!’ Azreal begged, stumbling  over the uneven ground.

The roaring started up again. It was distant but clearly coming for them. ‘How much farther do I go?’ When he was a child, he’d experienced wars and witnessed the deaths of comrades and enemies alike. But it had been more than a decade since he had experienced any sort of loss or defeat as a mercenary. ‘Everything always goes smoothly! We never had any issues! Why, after all these years? Why now?’ Azreal was normally unfazed during missions. He’d shut off his feelings and all but the crucial parts of his mind. Fear was a normal part of fighting; you just fought with it inside you. This was the first time since his childhood that he felt truly helpless in battle.

Scath began heaving and coughing up more blood and Azreal paused. ‘Shit! I can’t keep dragging him!’

Azreal frantically laid Scath down and attempted to stem the flow of blood. He used his scarf to put pressure around the wound. He’d cut Scath free, but part of the tendril was still empaled in his chest. Azreal knew better than to remove it; that was the way to rapidly bleed to death. But he didn’t know what else to do. The thing had torn through Scath’s insides, and the damage was horrific; the man had a hole strait through him! If Azreal was going to help him, he needed to get him out of here fast, but the limp Scath was too heavy for him to move efficiently alone. ‘And if the tendril stuck in him hits something and gets jostled...’

“Oh, damn it all!” Azreal screamed in rage. Stressed tears streamed down his face and mingled with his blood and the residue from the slain creature. Scath stared up with a horrified, dazed expression and Azreal couldn’t tell if he was looking at him or the sky.

“Come on, come on! God, help me!” Azreal screwed his eyes closed tight as he kept applying pressure, his blind panic and fear overwhelming him. “Please! Help me save him! Don’t let him die, damn it!” All he could do was plead. He knew basic first aid, but he wasn’t a medic. It would be a different story if any of the others had been with them but...

“A-zel...” Scath croaked, reaching towards his wound. Azreal swiftly grabbed Scath’s hand and used his other hand to keep putting pressure on the injury. “I know you’re in shock right now, but you’ll hurt yourself if you touch it.” Azreal gripped the other man’s hand tightly. “It’ll be okay, I promise. I’m not going to leave you! I just need to control this bleeding so we can move!”

“...?” Scath looked at Azreal, confusion clear on his face. “W-why...?” As he stared up, Azreal saw the look in the man’s eyes and took his hand off the wound.

“No no no! Stay with me!” Azreal gripped Scath’s hand with both of his. “Don’t do this! Scath, come on!” He pleaded, as if he could stave off the inevitable.

Scath looked even more baffled by Azreal’s pleading. “T-that’s...odd...?” He whispered, his face looking the most human and vulnerable that Azreal had ever seen it. His grip went slack.

“Scath! Scath?” It was no use. The light drained out of Scath’s eyes. He was gone.

“N-no...damn it...” Azreal gritted his teeth and squeezed his comrade's hand a final time. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Scath.” But there wasn’t any time to feel guilty; the roaring had returned while Azreal had struggled in vain against death.

The roaring entered a fever pitch and was right upon him now. Azreal leaped to his feet, but he was too slow. He felt the tendrils tear into his side as he was flung into the air.

‘Why...? Am I really that despicable and useless?’

Azreal impacted into the ground with so much force that he was stunned senseless. His vision blurred as he weakly attempted to stretch his fingers out.

‘Are you disappointed in me, God...?’ Everything went black.