Unnamed

[ENTRY 1 - 2/14/23]

Slowly, you awaken. Your eyelids are sticky and your limbs deeply exhausted, like you've woken up from a very long sleep.

The first thing you notice is the dull cold, seeping in through your thick fur and leathery wings. The second thing you notice is the dark. There's a faint red glow emanating through the room, reflecting off of the dark ice walls and pulsing in time with your breath.

The room is more of a cave, really. The floor slowly curves up at the edges into an offset orb kind of shape, made jagged and sharp by the shards of ice poking out at various angles. The only entrance is a tunnel a few feet from you, small in size and length. There's a warm light coming from outside, as well as faint chatter—chatter that's quickly getting closer, you realize.

As you glance around the room with a more sharpened eye than when you first woke up, you notice the glow is coming from you. As you move closer to the wall, you can see your reflection more clearly. You're a sturdy, fur-covered dragon; crimson, shining patterns and skeletal markings cover your body; frostbitten chains and a few metal cuffs engraved with strange symbols drag you down with their weight.



An exclamation from outside reminds you of the growing noise. You've got to make a decision, and fast.


[ENTRY 2 - 2/16/23]

You decide to hide.

You spot a dent in the small room and make your way over as quietly as you can. It's difficult with your sluggish limbs and the way your metal apparel occasionally clinks against the ice, but you don't hear the voices become quiet or curious. You press yourself against your hiding spot and give an involuntary shiver as the freezing ice that envelops you presses into your thin wings.

Finally, after what seems like hours, the voices recede until you can only hear the muffled sound of your teeth chattering in your closed jaw. You release a breath you didn't realize you were holding.

You take one last glance around the room in case, but there's nothing, just ice and dirt.

Taking one last moment to perk your ears up and hearing nothing, you prepare to go through the tunnel—it's not like you could go backward if you wanted to, and you're not staying here any longer than you already have.

Without the pressure of knowing there's others outside, you take your time through the tunnel. It's a tight fit, but it doesn't seem like the tunnel gets any smaller, so you should be fine. How did you get in there in the first place, anyway? It was hard enough when you were conscious, and you must have been unconscious when you got in there, you're sure you would have remembered something like that.

Lost in your train of thought, you accidentally scccrape one of your long, curled horns against the top of the tunnel. It's not loud, thankfully, but it's an awfully large gash, and ice particles have been sprinkled all over you.

You make your way out and glance right and left down the corridor. Nobody's there. There's a threadbare carpet here, and the walls are lined with bright torches whose light reflects off of the walls. This area is a bit bigger than the tunnel and the room you were in, likely big enough for you to comfortably stretch your wings and just barely brush the ceiling. You don't, although it's tempting. Who knows what could come running at the jangling sound of your chains.

You're pretty sure the people you heard went to the right. That path isn't too long before it turns sharply to where you can't see anything unless you peak around the corner.

To the left, the corridor stretches down much longer before it turns—you think you would have still been able to see them if that was the way they had gone, so they must be to the right. There's also several small openings like the one into your room lining the wall.

You take a quick glance into the one closest to you, but it's too dark to see anything without going in. Those rooms must not have a dragon with star-covered fur in them, you think to yourself with a hint of amusement.

Well, guess you've gotta go somewhere.

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