| 𝐱𝟕 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 | WRITING ON HOLD
HE IS A THREAT, A POWERFUL WEAPON; BUT MOST OF ALL, A KEY TO THE END OF WARS.
Solan is unbeknown to his true identity, but when a twist of fate shatters his illusion of a safe world, he is faced with charge...
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It had been a few hours since the wreckage. The sea was calm; much too calm for his liking. Sol looked across from the boat that sailed calmly along the cerulean sea. It was quiet, too. Nobody had spoken a word about what they had survived. Nobody dared to.
The air had become colder as they neared the surface of an undivulged land. He gazed at the trees that covered it, standing tall and green; unlike back at home, where they were burnt to the crisp with nothing left to find solitude in.The tall trees oddly seemed to possess a sweet serenity for all that passed through. Despite it being just a few hours ago since he was in the scorching swarm, a cold blanket of frost now lurked in the air.
"Come on, we should get off now." The young woman reached forward to help Sol carry Ying from the wooden boat. He had been too distracted by his thoughts to realize the boat had hit the curve of a dock.
"Where are we going?" he asked, as the survivors scrambled through the isolated and derelict forest. It was safe from harm, or even stark human demoralization, but Sol still had doubts about whether they'd truly be safe again.
Sol had seen many forests, though none quite like this. Sheets of thick, white snow preserved the gritty grounds and coated the trees; it was the reason he felt cold. He shivered.
"I am uncertain...," she mumbled with sincerity as she looked around, clinging onto Ying's shoulder. Throughout the trip here, Ying had, every so often, slipped in and out of consciousness."We need to find her some help."
Sol simply nodded, sniffing as the harsh clouds of frosted air came out of their blue-tinged mouths. Now that they had made it far enough away from the disaster, he could think. Ying was thankfully still breathing, though he wondered whether anybody could help her condition.
"So what's your name?" Sol asked, glancing in her direction.
"My name is Morrigan." A smile shone on her plump but cracked lips. Sol hadn't noticed before: tints of ginger in her hair that curled gently at the edges, cut just above her shoulders. Mossy green eyes glistened in the moonlight, with perhaps a defiant glint behind them as she stared at him, like she waited for him to introduce himself as well.
A rosy flush bloomed across her cheeks.He couldn't tell if it was the kiss of winter solstice, or because of shyness. Perhaps both.
"Oh... Um, I'm Sol." He smiled back, his cheeks warming up. Soon, they both came to a halt.
"We should put her down here, and light a fire," Morrigan suggested.
"Good idea..." Sol muttered and peeled off his jerkin, instantly bundling it up into a ball to cushion Ying's head. "Do you know how?"
"You don't know how to light a fire?" Morrigan chuckled in what seemed to be slight disbelief, which made Sol's cheeks go red. He was meaning to learn, but Qahir didn't get the chance to teach him.
