Before I woke from the Dream of Dreams, I dreamed of a desert; vast and golden and proud.
It was a land thriving under a golden sun, of wealth and bounty; of heroes and spear-wielding warriors.
But then a shadow fell upon the land, dark and ancient and forgotten, towering above all else; made of tar and dead flesh. It grinned and laughed and gauged deep holes into the land with its claws, destroying cities and palaces and life itself.
The rivers dried up, the trees and plants died as the soil turned to ash; littered with thin, withered carcasses of both men and animals. And then, the dead rose under the paws of the shadow; like puppets, mindless and hollow, void of anything that once made them human.
And the shadow laughed and laughed, full of satisfaction and malice.
Yet, the seed of life persisted. It was small and weak but stood up when challenged; striking back with bare hands and teeth and angry shouts. The shadow tried to quell it; to squish it like an insect beneath it’s feet but they were too much and too united. And just like annoying weed, they grew and grew and grew; hidden in nooks and dark caves, away from the shadow’s many eyes and ears.
They hid and waited for the right moment to strike to weaken the shadow. It was never fatal or big enough to be of real concern; but instead like tiny bites, making the shadow bleed and bleed and never allowed him to rest in peace.
They taught him to always be on the lookout; to always keep an eye open and glancing over his shoulder; waiting and anticipating the next bite.
The golden sun had vanished from the desert; and instead a pale moon shone upon the lands, bright and cold but watchful and protective. And under the moon and the stars, I found myself; standing between the dunes, looking ahead and towards a huge palace made of bones.
I wasn’t afraid. I was home, I knew, and walked forward, towards the macabre castle. The sand beneath my feet crunched and whispered, told me tales of old, forgotten champions; how they rose 250 years ago to fight off an equally monstrous evil; much like the shadow that was waiting in the distance.
It wasn’t laughing anymore, but watching and waiting. Waiting for me. I wasn’t afraid; I met its deep, glowing blue eyes without a flinch and stepped forward, steadily drawing closer and closer.
The land around me grew barren and empty and black. The air tasted like ash and dead and sulfur. I walked forwards until I no longer could; until I stood before the gates made of bones and tar and green fire.
The shadow was still watching and waiting. I looked up; right into its eyes and stared back.
“I’m here!”, I shouted. “I’m back home and I will not permit you to destroy it more than you already have! You’ll give it back to me!”
The shadow didn’t laugh; didn’t say anything as it's burning gaze bore into me. I waited and waited and waited; until there was movement. A small smile appeared on its face and he lifteda huge, clawed hand; curling his fingers to beckon me closer.
I made a half-step and then stilled.
I heard a faint, concerned voice in the distance.
“Don’t!”, it said; pleaded. I hesitated and listened while the shadow beckoned again. A little spark in my chest urged me forward; yet I hesitated. I turned and listened to that voice in the distance.
“Don’t fall for his trap!”, it said. “It’s an illusion! He’s a master of manipulation, there is no truth to his words or feelings or promises. He does not care for anything that isn’t his own gain. Don’t listen to him! Don’t fall for his sweet trap!”
A smile appeared on my face and I turned towards the shadow. I smirked and stepped forward.
“He may be a master of illusions and manipulation”, I said ,”But I’m a Mirage.”
And I stepped through the gate.
