If any water remained in his body, Eiran would have burst into tears by now. Nevertheless, the raw emotion was evident from the shuddering of his body, the contortion of his face, and the way that his breathing, which had not betrayed him throughout these days of torture, had finally given in to the shear ecstasy that he was feeling.
Cupping his lifeline into his hands, the cool blue liquid quickly flowed, kneading itself into the shape of his palm. The surface glistened, enticing him to devour it all in one fell swoop.
Despite the urgent need to rehydrate himself, Eiran spent a few seconds just staring at the water in his hands, almost wondering if it was simply a trick of the desert heat and his mind.
Remembering his survival lessons, he began fighting off that devilish urge to plunge his head into the water and greedily slurp through every last drop. He composed himself, raised his lips into the gap between his hands, and gently nudged a petite portion of water down.
Immediately, cold currents rushed throughout his body, electric shocks pulsated throughout. He immediately broke out into a coughing fit, as if his body had forgotten what it was supposed to do when faced with water.
Sip after sip, each greedier than the last, tears poured down his face. "Fuck, fuck, fuck I thought I was gonna die." he began exclaiming the fears that he'd kept hidden in his subconscious, afraid of the possible truth behind them, finally expelling them from his body.
As he neared the end of the reserve, his movements became erratic, the dam within his psyche had broken, only once he'd ruthlessly cleared out the reservoir did he let out a final gulp, his appreciation echoing throughout the tunnels.
He slumped by the cave wall, composing himself, panting like a wild animal he gradually came back down to Mars.
Sigh
Exhaling in relief, he gathered himself and assessed the situation.
"I've solved one problem, but this still doesn't change the main issue at hand."
There was no real reason for Eiran to verbalize his thoughts out loud, in fact it would probably be far smarter if he were to take every single precaution to erase his presence, which included making as little sound as possible.
But perhaps the relieved tension, and the fact that he'd missed the sound of his voice over the past few days had taken precedence for now.
Besides, now he had a trump card that he could use again.
Mentally preparing himself for the backlash, Eiran grasped the glowing cylinder and began muttering in an ancient language:
"O' God o' War that holdest sway o'er the field of strife, grant me thine eye, that I might o'ermaster mine foes."
These chants were slightly altered from the last time he'd invoked the spell.
Instead of directly praying to The Flame Father for help, this time he'd been more vague, merely calling for assistance from the 'God of War'
The connotations of what this meant was not something that Eiran wanted to think about. What if I invoked the name of their god, what was it again? Morbius? Oh right, Mordreon.
Pushing aside his disturbing and borderline blasphemous thoughts, he finished up the spell.
Instead of the burning pain that he'd experienced last time, an uncomfortable prickly feeling could be felt from within his eyes, despite the gentle warmth of the stimulus, with it being in such a sensitive area, it was still extremely uncomfortable for Eiran.
Accompanying the pain, there was also an entirely new feeling. Within his heart, he could feel a great weight burdening him, like hot, heavy lava was creeping in. With that weight, came a great rage.
Images flashed of the Veritirii scouts. They were in the tunnel with him, they had split up, exploring the caverns with great efficiency, all but confirming his theory that they could determine his general direction.
The fire from the depths of heart heart suddenly flared, screaming at him internally.
Kill! Kill! Kill! The only way to shake off your enemies is to KILL!
Shaking off the outburst, the pain in Eiran's eyes was beginning to become too much to bare, still, he focused himself and kept the spell active, he needed as much information as he could get.
He looked intently at the forms of this Veritirii. Their figures, whilst still large were much more refined than those of regular centurions, much lankier than the stocky soldiers that make up most of their army.
Their bronze armour was made in a simple streamlined, yet still domineering design. Their heads were simply repulsive. A pink sphere, chitin plates made up their skin, their stereoscopic eyes were of a disgusting consistency.
In the gaps between the chitin, Eiran could observe what seemed to be some soft skin, with that familiar pink colour with a nauseating consistently, as well as a slight orange-tinge which gave off a slightly ethereal feeling.
He watched them a while longer, despite not being with each other, they all repeated the same actions, almost simultaneously, as if they had rehearsed it so they could remain in sync.
They would sniff the air, look around, and continue traversing the tunnels, not failing to choose a tunnel that would bring them closer to his general direction.
At this point, his eyes and brain had really reached their limit. Grabbing his head, he thought to himself.
I'm almost out anyways, hopefully I can arrive at the base before I get caught by those guys.
Now came another difficult task — standing up…
It was one thing to shut off your brain and keep trudging forward. But now that Eiran had taken a break to drink water, his brain finally had the opportunity to communicate to him the violent throbbing in his muscles, and the mayhem that was currently going on in his empty stomach.
With great struggle, reaffirming himself, berating himself, reminding himself of the stakes, after many attempts, he finally managed to rise to his feet.
It wouldn't take much longer for his hunters to close down on him, with a renewed vigour, he continued his tragic limp through the tunnel.
When the time finally came for Eiran to meet the light at the end of the tunnel, he could just imagine the finish line just ahead of him.
Once I'm out of here, it's just a straight shoot to the Arygyre Basin. That's where Aethra's reach was located.
The dark linings of the cave wall rapidly disappeared, replaced by the expanding light.
Eiran was just about ready to exclaim his celebration and sprint the rest of the way to base.
He was about to make his way out of the tunnels, maybe even skip his way out.
— and then he was slapped in the face.
Literally.
Eiran was greeted by a vicious torrent of red sand and strong winds.
Quickly retreating back inside the tunnel, Eiran pivoted around, glaring at the exit hole.
In his eyes, reflected a red disaster, a sight that tore his soul to pieces. He was looking at a desert storm…