CHAPTER 825: SHATTERED

Teleportation had never been easy for me, but the absolute pain and discomfort I felt as I was drawn through the Wayward Compass was beyond even the terrifying chill of entering Fallen Haven. At first, a solemn chill gripped my body and soul. The pain of my wounds receded into the blackness. But before I could breathe a sigh of relief, jagged knives stabbed into my flesh, turning and slicing me apart. They were crueler than any inquisitor blade, hotter than any fire. I tried to scream, but the sound was lost before reaching my ears.

The pain in my soul was even worse, transcending the agony of the Soul Binder. Bits and fragments were torn away, slowly working down to the inner depths. I clung to my bond with Haven and the Primordial Mark, holding fast as everything else was stripped away. They became the core of who, and what, I was.

Time had no meaning, but at some point, I became aware the pain had reversed. The various fragments of my body and soul were coming together, sutured by an icy needle. Everything felt...wrong. It wasn’t just the burning, aching sensation of my injuries. It was a deeper disorientation, like a doll whose parts were sewn back together by a child. I had a sensation of my left hand where my right foot should be, and a vague, sickening feeling of my spine twisting where it ought not to. The mana cycle of my soul was completely disoriented, leaving me sick and queasy, barely able to hold a coherent thought.

As the last piece came together, light exploded in the darkness. There was no rising sun or gradual brightening, just pure, blinding light. I blinked furiously, moisture spilling down my cheeks. It took me a few moments to remember they were called tears. And that meant that the strange, pathetic whimpers I was hearing must be the sound of my voice.

I willed my hands to move, and was relieved to find the objects that touched my face were, in fact, not toes. Ah, fingers. That’s right. Odd that I remembered toes but not fingers.

Still blind, I slid my hand down my side, whimpering again as my fingers brushed the bloody wound, pushing arrow fragments deeper into my flesh. I pressed through the pain, letting out a pent-up breath as I found my tail joined right where it should be. The break felt about three-quarters of the way down, stinging even more than I remembered. I must have been teleported in the air and fallen a few feet or inches.

With that small comfort, I went about exploring my environment. The persisting feelings of wrongness didn’t go away, though; a subtle hum vibrated in the bones of my right foot, while the left felt strangely numb. It was as though my body was two different people. I didn’t have much strength to move, so my explorations reached the extent of the ground. It was firm yet not hard. So probably not rock. It was dry and gritty, though, stinging as it stuck to my wounds. The smell of...fabric, canvas maybe, was heavy, but barely noticeable through the stench of metallic blood.

I really was bleeding a lot. The observation was cold and detached, missing the thrill of panic that I expected. Even so, I felt some matter of urgency regarding it, only...what could I do about it? Not a single solution came to mind, so I just curled into a ball. That felt like the natural response. Maybe it would help.

There was another strange sensation, but it wasn’t painful. That caught my attention first. I was tired of everything else either hurting or feeling uncomfortable. It was a gentle, warm glow, reminding me of a...a fire? Not quite the right word, but close enough. It burned in my chest, warming the rest of my body. It was familiar and close, but...not me. I could tell that much because it seemed to have its very own feelings. It was extremely upset, which in turn, made my heart beat a little faster, some of the fear I’d been missing creeping in.

The blinding white light slowly dimmed. Gradually, I began to make out silhouettes and shadows around me. They slowly devolved into shapes, the world becoming more defined with every breath I took. At some point, colors began to emerge. Gray, brown, and...blue? No, it was darker. Purple.

Violet.

The word popped up from somewhere deep in my mind, and I instinctively knew it was true. Violet. The name of a color. A beautiful color, or so I felt.

Another beautiful color was gold. It filled the tent, dying everything like the...the...something. Something that shines in the sky. When it’s not day.

As the world took shape, I began to remember more names and stories. A bed. Those were for sleeping in. It would be a lot more comfortable to curl up there than on the ground. And that over there was a desk, with a....a chair! I nodded, feeling pleased with myself. This was a good start.

After a few more minutes, I grew sure of one thing. I was in a tent. A big one, too, if the other tents I saw in my mind were anything to reference. Aside from the bed and desk, there was a tall wardrobe and a rack of some sort, holding a suit of armor. It was black and violet, with a long cloak that fell loosely around the shoulders.

With half of the tent explored, I gingerly rolled over, wincing in pain. I was rewarded with several more memories awakening as I looked around the rest of the room. There was a table right behind me, upended on one side. Long streaks of crimson ran down toward the ground. It smelled like blood. My blood. I must have appeared on the table, or fallen onto it, and knocked it over.

A gold glint caught my eye, and I carefully reached out, digging a ring out of the.... I frowned, staring hard at the brown, gritty substance. Ground. It was ground, but there had to be a more accurate word for it. It was right there on the tip of my tongue, but it wouldn’t come out.

Shaking my head in frustration, I returned my attention to my prize. From its position, it looked like it had fallen off the table. It was big and golden, almost fitting around two of my fingers at once. It had a small, red gem studded in the top.

Curiously enough, the design of the ring was identical to the one around my neck. Only, the one I wore was silver, and a blue gem embedded in it. Were they related somehow?

"Wayward Compass," I whispered, the name coming to mind.

My voice was dry and scratchy, setting off a series of coughs. My lungs burned, my muscles aching as my entire body shuddered with every choking breath. I clutched the ring on my necklace tightly until the tremors faded, taking short, erratic breaths.

Just as I began to recover, the tent started to shake. The ground bucked beneath me, rolling up and down like a...a wave. I let out a scream as it caused my body to shift, applying pressure on my tail. My voice came easier this time, but drawing in a breath afterward was next to impossible. The air was thick and heavy, stuffing my throat and refusing to enter my lungs. Even if it did, I was in no position to breathe. A heavy weight rested on my body, preventing me from so much as twitching.

The horrible weight and suffocating air persisted. I began to grow faint. My mind wandered, exploring various memories I hadn’t had time to process yet. There were strange people and faces, many with names attached. Tana, Korra, and Fyren. I felt warm thinking of them, but I didn’t remember enough yet to remember why. There was a large animal, too. A beautiful, silver wolf.

Just as quickly as it came, the weight abated, leaving me gasping. I didn’t care for the pain each breath brought me; I gulped it down with swift, greedy swallows.

A low thump caused the tent to shiver. I turned to the flap, pursing my lips as a silhouette appeared on the canvas. It flew open, and a tall, broad-shouldered man strode through. He wore a black and silver robe with a cloak that billowed from the speed of his entry. He had a sword at his side and a scar across the left side of his face, crossing his eye. He had a black tail and horns, like mine, but more cruel and exaggerated. His deep, violet eyes widened as he saw me, his mouth dropping open.

"Xiviyah?"

It was a strange word, causing tingles to race through my body. Or maybe those were shivers, as I suddenly found my heart racing, my throat constricting in fear. The man’s presence was terrifying. Shadows curled around him like living tendrils, oozing toward me with a menacing air.

"What is it? Is she here?" a new voice asked.

Another demonkin pushed past the first, with fiery hair and red horns, accompanied by the scent of ash. I recognized his face, but not his name. It came with a slight twist of discomfort in my stomach. He was the one with Korra in my memories. I don’t think I liked him.

He paled as he saw me. "That’s a lot of blood."