The hair from the back of Aut's neck to the base of his spine stood on end as each stroke of the Painter's monotint brush painted a thick, black ink, sundered onto the very air before it. First, it was just a line, curved and irrational. Then, scribbles. More intentional, more intricate, more abstract. Like a vast tapestry weaved from oblivion. Finally, a blaze ignited from the lusterless black in a splash of colour, the very ink transforming into the edges of a fire, with reality filling the gaps.
Fire. Painted fire. For the first time, he saw a bona fide blaze, conjured mere meters above him. The only colour Aut had seen, borne not of lighting and ember, but paint and strokes.
Plumes of bleak soot floated upwards into empty grayscale clouds. Beneath them, the radiance of immolating heat scorched the very earth. An ethereal fog of billowing crimson ravaged flora and fauna alike. Conifers fell like ink to a canvas, splattering onto the ashen dirt, monochrome Mimosas curled up in futility—colour itself drained out of them by the Ascent—engulfed by the raging flame all the same. Sticks and bones jut out the inferno like appendages seeking solace from a wrathful master, cursing the heavens in a series of crackles and pops. An arid storm of iron and putrid rot invaded the humid breeze of petrichor and wood, with the wind picking up blobs of blood, scraping against the land, each gust sending a maelstrom of debris and kindle at any would be survivors.
Then, further beyond the crackles and pops, a creature lay. One deadly enough to have warranted such a display of ruthless carnage and merciless slaughter. One dreadful enough for a Painter to be sent to kill it, survivors be damned. Red scales upon red skin adorned every inch of its quadrupedal body, two sharp protrusions erupting from his crocodilian snout just above twin yellow orbs of light, each bearing within a thin sliver of darkness. A pair of wings extended outwards, claws rooted at each end—thin white cartilage connecting the crimson frames like glass in a window. It stood atop a rock pile too big to be natural, both its hind legs in the air with its wings spread outward, its jaw hanging agape at the human that dared provoke it. A human that was floating in the air, hidden amongst clouds of grey smoke and cinder, masked by the scent of blood and death.
A dragon…
How did he not notice it till now?
Aut reeled as the wildfire infiltrated his skin, drowning the world in a trilogy of heat, desperation and sorrow. His lips cracked as the moisture sucked out of him just like how the Ascent sucked the world of chrome. Each gasp for air stung against the back of his dry throat like the violent shove of brush when a Painter was unsatisfied with their work. Each movement robbed his joints of freedom, rapidly sending him into a state of immovable decay. His back buckled like he was under the pressure of a thousand atmospheres. His lungs collapsed like he was under leagues of ocean. His limbs grew limp like the very life within him simply gave up. Aut tried to scream, but nothing came. As if the fire seemingly burnt sound itself. A deafening roar reverberated through his ears as the dragon looked somewhere high above him.
Just as a burning branch turned to ash, a path through the fire and flames cleared. Like how Moses parted the seas and an artist used Clair Obscur to create an illusion of dimension on a canvas, a lingering thread of untouched grass wound through the blistering heat, as if blocked by the will of the Painter above. Aut trudged a heavy foot through the dense carpet of ash and burning grass without a thought in his mind other than primal instinct. One without reason or will. One that screamed to survive no matter what.
He tried to push another step, but stumbled on a fallen branch onto the searing grass. His skin sizzled a light pink as the soaring temperature imbued itself into the depths of his mind and emblazoned itself onto his skin. Every tendon in his lank body wailed in agony, blood vessels surfacing below his shimmering skin, drenched in sweat and bathed in soot. Soon, blood joined the messy soup on his body. Each gulp of saliva pierced his parched throat like a serrated knife. No solace could be found within this hell, and yet, Aut launched a trembling hand forth, gripping the soggy ground in a mixture of hope and defiance, crawling his way up as a newborn would his parent.
His vision blurred, his muscles cried. He didn't waver.
The clearing was within arms reach.
Just one more push…
Then, as if in a reversal of the blinding light of the Ascent—
The world went black.