On the third day of his so-called pilgrimage, Harjen began to notice things start to stand out. For example, that morning he woke up with a bloody nose. Not quite sure what to make of the massive flow of crimson liquid from his left nostril, for the right one was noticeably silent, he began to think that some great change was taking place. Whether or not this change would be a positive was uncertain, but it occurred nonetheless.
The cellular lining inside of his nostril had dried out from the air of the cavern, but it only took some getting used to in order to stop causing discomfort. Thoughts flowed like water through Harjen’s mind, but his only focus was on building a dam to stop them. He wanted to avoid any feeling whatsoever, completely uncertain of how to interpret it.
Warmth was something that was not easy to come by in the secret lair beneath the surface, but fire began to be a source of comfort. The only issue being that the noxious fumes created from burning wood wore away the lining of his lungs to the point that every breath caused great pain. Along with the concentrated effort to breathe came the impossible realization that each breath could be his last.
To be continued…