Challenge 003 || Night Terrors ||
Lyric always knew when the dream was beginning. A fog would descend over her vision, thick and dark, putting any moonlit night to shame. Enveloping her entire being, she was plunged into it, the damp cold of it more familiar to her now than her own heartbeat. This had happened so often, so unbearably often that it had ceased to be the worst thing about the dream...oh, how long ago it was that the cold of the fog was the worst thing about this.
Sunlight could not pierce it, and for a time, Lyric knew she would be safe to merely stand and prepare herself for what lay ahead. All was calm, until something dark moved among the white of the fog, so close and just out of her field of vision. And like some signal, she was able to move again, a startled animal barreling her way through the mists. That figure, that dark shadow...it was to be feared. Mustn't let it get near, mustn't touch it, or else she would be gone, who knew what would become of her. More than memory loss, more than awaking in some strange land. She would be simply gone. That was one risk she was not willing to take.
And so she plunged through, no end or beginning in sight to the terrible blank landscape. Every now and again, she would hear a footstep behind her, see the blurry blackness flash by. And yet she would not stop, would not falter. Hair flying behind her, she broke through the fog, as was the usual of the dream. Perhaps it would end differently this time. Most likely not, but what else was she going to do? Simply embrace the inevitable?
Bursting forth, she heard the crunch of dead grass beneath her feet, withered and dry as the fog cut off, as if being held back by some invisible wall. Before her lay the entryway to what looked like the opening to an immense labyrinth. However, rather than be made of hedge as was the custom, it was made out of bone.
The cemetery ground crackled beneath her as she swept over it, glancing nervously over her shoulder. Little did Lyric fear, an odd apathy towards that emotion altogether. And yet, this was the only time she knew what it meant to feel true terror. Hesitating at the opening, Lyric heard the voice. It resonated deep within her, as if the echo of a stone falling down a steep well into the waiting dark depths. It was a voice she somehow knew, familiar so exhaustingly familiar. And yet she could not place it for the life of her. Archaic, powerful, tender and somehow cruel all at once.
Go, you fool. The Beast follows close behind.
She blindly obeyed, as she knew she must. The voice would not harm, somehow she knew that instinctively. Lyric feared it, and yet trusted it implicitly all at once. It was the voice of one who knows much, and yet because of that knowledge could easily turn it against you. She would not make an enemy of that voice, not tonight. A crow shrieked in the distance, a sound that chilled her to the very marrow. Lyric waited no lunger, and entered the labyrinth.
Hurriedly she raced, urged on by the voice. The Beast, as it had called it, was never far. The scent of rotten fruit permeated the air, pomegranates and grapes long gone sour into decay. It made her gag as she struggled to outrun it, and even as she blindly stormed her way through each turning and twisting passage, she knew the Beast was faster. Always there, always waiting, the black figure stalked her easily as if it were all some sport. Lyric hissed angrily at the thought, but she could do nothing. All she was able to accomplish was her heavy footed flight, crashing through.
Her heart beat wildly in her chest, over and over the dull thud pounding on her ribs like the savage, tribal tattoo of war drums. She wanted to scream, to cry. The feeling of anguish, of brutal hopelessness rushed through her to take hold of her mind. The Beast was closing in, on her heels, breath hot and rotten on the back of her neck. The crow shrieked again.
She turned, and the wall rose up, implacable and unfeeling. Trapped. Lyric stared at it in open panic, bile rising in her throat.
She threw her hands against the bones, pounding on the laughing skulls and pointed shards of limbs.
"No no no! No! Let me out, let me out please! Don't keep me in here!"
Decay was everywhere, like the ticking of some great internal machine, counting down and down and down and soon the number would reach zero and it would be done. It went beyond fear, went beyond terror. It was mind numbing horror. Her hands began to bleed as she desperately clawed at the wall, choked sobs wracking her body.
"Don't keep me here! Let me go, let me go!"
The voice returned, disgust painting its words like the fine touch of a master artisan.
It approaches! Move, you fool!
Lyric threw herself to the ground as a black figure streaked towards her, just in time. The thing struck the wall, bursting into dark fragments, twirling up into the sky like so many small winged creatures. She knew it watched her, was regrouping. It wasn't over yet.
Up! Get to the center before it comes again for another strike!
With another sob, she hauled herself to her feet, and stumbling, bruised and bleeding, she took off back into the fray. The Beast laughed, and she had no time to glance over her shoulder. But she knew instinctually what she would have seen. The smaller forms swooping back down together with the grace of a predator, to form the Beast once more. This was confirmed as she heard it loping after her, a laugh melting the air. Lyric tried to use her magic, set the grass ablaze to stop the thing from following, but the well of power was shut off, so close to her here she knew, but it would not respond to her call. With blind terror, she continued to flee deeper, deeper, deeper!
With no warning at all, she stumbled out into the center. Relief flooded through her, and she shook with the sheer effort of staying on her feet, blood dripping to the ground from wounded arms. But that relief went cold inside her, frozen like summer into perpetual winter. Hope shriveled up and died soundlessly in her breast.
There was nothing but a gaping hole into an endless abyss.
Jump, jump, my heart! You are so close to your freedom!
Terrified, she could only stand there stupefied. Gaping mouth, hot tears, no hope. Death lay in both directions.
Trust in me if nothing else! Jump you gaping idiot!
Muscles tensed, but that was as far as she got.
A hot pain drove through her, as she felt the knife plunge into her back, the smell of rotten pomegranates on the wind. With a shuddering gasp, she went rigid.
Strength left her, and her body dropped, falling into the pitt. Falling forever.
Lyric woke up from this nightmare in a hot sweat, sitting up in bed with mute appeal to whatever cruel gods meant to condemn her in such a way. When she realized she was back, that beneath her was not emptiness but her own warm bed, she relaxed. She drew her knees up and rested her forehead against them, holding onto herself as if to a rock in the midst of a fierce storm. All she had at the end of the day was herself. No memories, no family, not even a name.
And so her own council she would keep.
