Page 63 of Joy Guardian

Seventeen

KURAI

Scorching heat fried me alive. It came from both above and below me. Searing pain rolled through me in agonizing waves.

I couldn’t breathe. It was dark and burning hot, like I’d already died, and my spirit descended into the vilest bowels of the afterlife.

Even more torturous than the heat and the pain was the emptiness that racked me. The space I was in was too vast for me alone. I longed to share it, but only darkness was my companion here.

Something pressed on my back from above, shoving me deeper into the sand.

“Fuck, Malis. I found another one,” a male voice sounded above me. “Shit, I almost tripped over this one.”

“Is his neck slashed too?” a female voice replied.

Someone grabbed my shoulder, flipping me to my back. Pain speared through my body, jolted by the movement. Agony blinded me, with my thoughts going momentarily blank.

“Nope,” the male voice announced. “His throat is fine. Hisnose and mouth are stuffed with sand though. Poor fellow, he couldn't breathe, in addition to whatever weapon killed him.”

A rough finger scooped the sand out of my mouth, finally allowing for some air to pass through to my lungs.

“Wait, Gefred,” the woman, Malis, stopped him. “There aren’t any signs of decomposition in this one. No wounds. No shadows. See? What if he’s still alive? Just look if he has anything good on him, then let’s get out of here.”

“This dagger looks nice.” The man wrenched the handle out of my clenched fingers.

I coughed up the sand and grime, spitting it out of my mouth.

“Shit!” Malis screeched. “I told you he’s alive!”

Gefred sprang back, holding up my dagger in defense.

I couldn’t attack him, even if I tried. I felt too weak, with my strength and my senses shattered. Gathering my shaky legs and arms under me, I pushed to all fours.

How long had I been without air? Fae could survive without breathing, but it had taken its toll on my mind and body.

“A resilient bunch,”Ciana had called us.

At the thought of her, emptiness crushed me, pressing me back into the sand. Pain burned my arms and back. I willed to release my tendrils, but only agony was the response. It spread through my body like a searing web.

“He’s no threat,” Gefred scoffed. “Just look at him. Weak as a kitten.”

“Get his bag,” Malis urged, then paused. “Wait. He’s wearing the golden skirt of the Joy Guardians. Is he one of them, you think?”

A rough hand ripped my garment from my head.

“He's wearing their collar. And his hair is cut in their fashion too,” Gefred said.

“Should we kill him? Then cut his collar off? It’s real gold, I’ve heard.”

“I don’t know… Is a live Joy Guardian more useful than a dead one?”

I didn’t intervene in their decision-making process. At this point, them killing me seemed like an act of mercy. At least, it would stop the pain.

My limbs shook as I tried to get up again but only managed to sit back on my haunches.

The two desert dwellers eyed me from a safe distance. Both were rail-thin and dressed in rags. Instead of a chest armor, a mesh of ropes and belts crisscrossed their torsos, with various items tied to them—all must’ve been acquired by scavenging.

“Are you alone?” Gefred asked cautiously.

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