Altan had been walking all night- how on earth was he already caught? For only a second Altan hesitated. Hesitated and considered just ignoring the call and darting into the mountain and hoping he hadn't seen him. It probably would've been the better option. Instead, he spun on his heel, eyes darting to the trees where a cloaked figure with glowing golden eyes and a streak of gold hair came barreling out of the woods.
"Altan!" The Prince repeated, pushing through the briars.
His eyes shifted, scrutinizing, to The Princes tidied hair. "I guess I can't call you Goldilock anymore, but I'm starting to think Golden Retriever fits better since you're following me around like a dog." He spat.
The Prince scowled, motioning angrily to Altans side, "You stole my sword!"
"I don't see your name on it." Altan shot back.
The Prince stood there bristling but didn't move towards him. He seemed lost in thought, hesitant. He looked ridiculous, repeatedly glaring at Altan, then glancing past him towards the cave, and back. Over and over. After a few tense moments Altan scoffed, turning away and stepping just past the entrance of the cave.
"You're pathetic."
"Altan, stop." The Prince hissed, still not moving. His words were scathing.
Altan began to turn back around, an eyebrow cocked. "Or wha-mmph!"
The Prince sprinted forward with surprising agility, hand outstretched. Altan found a clammy palm plastered over his mouth before he could finish his sentence. He flailed but The Prince held him tight, trying to wrestle Altan out of the cave. So, he bit. Hard.
"Ow, fuck!"
Immediately The Princes eyes blew open and he reeled back as his voice echoed hollowly through the large tunnel. Suddenly the ground began to quake with a force that almost knocked Altan off his feet. He stumbled and caught himself as the entire tunnel shook, long dried bones clattering across the barren earth, stones and dust dislodging from the roof. Altan leapt back with a yell as the entrance to the cave erupted in a cloud of earth and rock, daylight draining away. Soon the only light in the quaking cavern was coming from The Princes eyes, blown wide with terror.
The Prince charged past him, further into the cave. "Run!" He called over his shoulder.
Altan hesitated, his world plunged into darkness and awful grating scraping noises. He could sense, or rather hear, movement behind him. He clutched the sword uselessly, feet rooted into the roaring ground, tongue thick in his mouth. Two golden lights reappeared as The Prince spun around.
"Why are you stallling?! I said r- oh, ugh, right-. Fon Lux!"
Altan squinted, head turning as a harsh white light filled The Princes palm, illuminating the tunnel for several meters around them. When he saw the weaving, pulsing mass of rock and soil surging behind him, literal earthy hands outstretched in his direction, he decided he much preferred the stinging light and took off towards The Prince at breakneck speed. The Prince waved his arm froward frantically, voice lost amongst the grating chorus of earth and stone, before he pivoted and ran.
       The Prince was fast, a few meters ahead and pulling further away as Altan struggled to keep pace. His mind raced faster than his feet pounding against the earth, the roar of earth exploding just inches behind him. He fought to keep his footing on the shaking ground, ducking as a stalactite dislodged from the roof and nearly skewered him. The torrent of earth was unrelenting and Altans lungs and muscles seared, dust grating down his throat with every ragged gasp. A heavy cold protrusion scraped against his back, stones slicing through this skin, and he didn't dare look back. How long was this tunnel? He bit back panic and pushed forward as more earth began to cling and buffer against his legs.
       The Prince's light veered around a sharp bend and Altan skidded after it, shouting as something collided with the back of his skull, sending him stumbling ungracefully forward before regaining his footing and darting off. Warm blood trickled down the base of his neck, quickly congealed with dust. Ahead The Prince slid to a stop, heaving, turning with a wide stance and motioning for Altan to keep going. He did, risking a glance over his shoulder as The Prince stood firm in front of a horrifying tidal wave of knotting, weaving earthy hands, cold fingers reaching for him.
      "Obsidio stome!" He commanded, hands lashing out.
        Plates of thick stone bashed through the walls of the tunnel, crashing together to form a solid stone wall. The Prince cast the spell again as the screech of rolling earth quieted through a second wall of stone, though the ground shook even more violently. Altan slowed, head spinning and wobbling as he stumbled against the wall. The Prince turned again, running up to Altan and shaking his head violently, clutching him by the arm. He muttered a spell and the light transferred from his palm into Altans.
       "Don't stop, go, go!" He yelled, shoving Altan forward.
        Altan started forward again but his steps faltered when the sound of splitting stone crashed through the air. He looked back in time to watch those earthy hands grab feverishly at the smashed walls, consuming the stone which joined with the flurry of earth. The Prince shouted in frustration, eyes ablaze, hands raised as the sentient earth swarmed towards him.
      "Anima Ignis!"
The same golden flames Altan had seen the first time The Prince used this spell exploded from his hands, twisting in a shimmering column towards the hands. Altan went from a full on sprint to a jog, to a shamble, and he finally stopped transfixed as the flames burst against the wave of earth, illuminating the entire cavern in a brilliant metallic light. The light shining in Altans hand reflected beautifully against glass hands, suspended delicately in space, glittering fingers brushing inches from The Princes face. The rumbling subsided to a dull grumble, echoing solemnly along the wide tunnel. Altan sighed in relief. Silence.
Then a furious roar of earth sounded tenfold, and the ground shook so hard both The Prince and Altan tumbled to the hard rocky floor. Shattering glass shredded the air, diamond-like shards spraying in a terrific fountain, catching the light from Altans hand in a glimmering embrace. Then reformed earthy hands were vigorously erupting forward, cascading over The Prince. Altan saw rather than heard The Prince yelling something, eyes flashing as a shimmering orange film formed a sphere around him milliseconds before the earth buried him. Moments later cold, pulsing, rugged streams of earth were smashing into Altan.
       He gasped in pain, the light vanishing in his palm but white exploding behind his eyes as stones and hard dirt battered against him. Surging earth swept him off the floor, and he reached, desperately grasping for something, anything, to hold onto. And then soil was encasing his head as he was spun in the torrent, not even darkness able to permeate the earth as it flushed raggedly into his eyes and mouth. He inhaled on instinct and immediately coughed as stones and shards of glass tore into his throat. Metal mixed with gritty dirt as coughing simply allowed the earthy hands to force more soil into his mouth and he fought to maneuver his arms and grasp at his throat, screams lost to the earth. Shards of glass and stone shredded his skin, tearing chunks of his clothes and skin off by the second. The hands were slashing, cocooning, suffocating, and Altan felt his limbs failing, head light, the frustratingly familiar lull of unconsciousness overtaking the pain that throbbed in his skull.
       Through the deafening crashing of stone and dirt, past the curtain of darkness enveloping his mind, a ferocious roar of anger rose above the chaos. Shafts of blinding golden light registered through Altans foggy panic, pure force and energy seeming to drive the earth away from his limp form. Scalding heat threatened to consume Altan from the confines of his cold earthy prison, and he watched through hooded eyelids as the dirt grasping him solidified, once again, into red hot glass. He didn't even have the strength to flinch as it smoked his flesh, exposed muscle and veins cauterizing and bubbling immediately. The quaking ceased entirely. A form shifted in the shadows beyond the prisms and then in an instant the cooling glass was broken. He landed unceremoniously on top of a panting, heaving body that gently rolled him off and set him on the ground. The stinging of tiny shards pressing into his legs and palms helped keep him conscious. His breaths were shallow and wet, blood and grime coating his shredded throat and mouth, seeping into his lungs. Blood trickled from cuts all over his body, and his left wrist swelled angrily.
        Next came the tiny clinks of shifting glass and a soft metallic scrape-the sword probably. And then Altan was being scooped up, trembling weakly in the arms that held him aloft. His breath was ragged, his ripped collar fluttering under his pained breaths. I want to go home. He was trying to keep his eyes open, the threat of unending unconsciousness loomed above him and he struggled to stay awake. The Prince, sword affixed to his belt, heaved Altan a little bit higher and with a soft huff, starting limping forward.
       The scorch of The Princes healing words almost hurt more than the shards of glass and stone grating in his lungs.