What's zup?

He began pacing. Or rather, his body did. He tried to stop, but his muscles weren’t reacting. Soren had talked about feeling like this when he was paralyzed, Callum remembered. Somehow this seemed worse. Like something else was controlling him. Or someone. His head turned upwards, till he was staring at the dragon queen. He tried to scream. His mouth opened. Maybe it was working? 

“Zubeia,” that wasn’t his voice, “You haven’t aged a bit.”

No no no no no

“You look as young, and ravishing as the day you betrayed me.”

The dragon queen snarled, and Callum flinched, disturbed by the anger on her usually affable face. His body just stood calmly, continuing to talk in a voice that Callum knew would haunt him for the rest of his life. 

“So sorry to hear of your mate’s untimely and tragic passing.” 

The voice spoke with sarcasm that Callum would have been proud of, if it had been his voice. If it had been any other subject. He tried to yank his hands up to cover his mouth, tried to kick his legs and flail his arms and shake his head— anything to stop that voice. Nothing happened. He felt himself turn, facing his friends. 

Ezran, his eyes full of fear and confusion. Rayla, looking at him like he was a stranger. Soren, with his hand on his sword. 

Draw it, Callum tried to yell, Stop me, please, anything to stop me. But his old friend just glared at him, as the voice continued its taunts. 

“So these are the champions you’ve gathered to try and stop me? They’re nothing but pathetic children.” 

His body walked towards Ezran. 

No, Callum whimpered, Please, not my baby brother...

Tears streamed down his cheeks. He gasped for breath, but his mouth only moved to deliver more insults. 

“The whiny child king…” 

No, Ezran, no, please, it’s not me.

He watched his little brother flinch as the voice spat words like daggers. Callum felt like he was choking, gulping for air like he was pressed underwater. He wished he was. 

“Callum?” 

“In over his head, and he knows it.” 

“Callum!”

Callum gasped awake, panting. He put his hands to his chest. They followed his command. He was in control of his body. He ran his fingers through his hair, and felt at the cold wetness covering his cheeks. I’m in control of my body. He closed his eyes to calm himself, but was immediately affronted by the image of the purple elf. His eyes shot open again. He shook his head, trying to banish the residual terror that still held him captive. 

They were in the Drakewood. They had come here because they needed to get to Rex Igneous. To find Aaravos’ prison before Claudia did. He was safe. At least, relatively. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. 

“Callum?” 

He realized for the first time that Rayla was sitting right next to him. He jumped. Her hand was on his shoulder. He glanced down and she immediately took it away. Right. He wasn’t exactly  speaking to her. 

“What do you want?” he said, wiping the tears from his face. 

She looked incredibly worried. Oh, now you care about me? he thought, looking away in anger. 

“You were… flailing in your sleep. Gasping for breath. I just… I thought you’d want to be woken up.” 

“Great. Thank you.” He dug the palms of his hands into his eye sockets, trying to rub away the nightmare. Or rather the memory. 

“Are you okay, Callum?” 

“I’m fine,” he snapped. “Just a nightmare.” 

He looked down at his hands. They were shaking. He closed them into fists, then opened them again. Closed, opened. He was in control. 

“Just a nightmare,” he repeated softly. 

—————————————

The nightmare found him again the next night, in the belly of the mountain. The same taunting voice echoing in his ears, his little brother’s hurt face seared in his memory. This time no one came to wake him, so he was forced to ride out the rest of the sequence as well. 

He watched himself insult Soren, the man who had become his best friend in Rayla’s absence. The cruel irony of the insult was that it played on what Soren used to poke fun at Callum for when they were younger; his parentage. Callum knew it was Soren’s greatest insecurity. He hoped that his friend knew he would never talk that way, never rub salt into that wound. Here he was, though, mouth moving; a voice that wasn’t his own telling Soren that his father didn’t want him. 

Next came Rayla. Oh, Rayla. Callum didn’t know where he stood with her right now, but that didn’t mean he wanted to see her hurt. Especially by his own hands. 

They’re not mine, Callum pleaded. These words aren’t mine!

She couldn’t hear him though. No one could. No one but him; a hostage to his own mind, a stranger to his body. 

“Oh, my time has come.”

Let me go, please let me go.

“My return to this world is inevitable.” 

The memory faded to black, and Callum jolted awake again. He went through the same routine as the previous night; feeling his chest, hair, face, eyes… he was okay. A gentle wind blew across his tear-strewn cheeks. The breeze dome. That’s right, they were taking a pause, waiting for the tide of lava to ebb enough for the group to cross. He said a silent thank you to his newly inherited staff, which had maintained the spell even in his less-than-capable state. 

He let out a long breath, looking around. Ezran was asleep. He looked peaceful, even, curled up next to Zym. Callum tried to fix this image in his mind, a replacement for the one that was haunting his closed eyelids. It didn’t work. 

Aaravos was now a constant threat looming over his head. Callum thought he could feel the phantom tug of invisible hands on his limbs every time he moved. He was a danger to everyone here. He needed a contingency plan, he needed… a way out. 

He looked across the dome to Rayla, who was sleeping peacefully on her side. He hated to wake her, but when would he ever get another perfect opportunity to talk to her alone? To ask… what he needed to, without his little brother overhearing? 

Mind made up, Callum walked over to her carefully; shaking her shoulder.