The man – this time, I was sure of it, broad shoulders and all – took one short step.

I eyed him warily, eyes zipping between his face and the hand that had my sword grasped in.

He’s holding it.

He’s going to swing it.

Now!

Now!

…now!

For every step that he stumbled forward, I took two steps back. I failed to make the first move. How could I; he had my sword.

He has the advantage. He wants to kill me, too. Nightmare. It has to be.

I knew by instinct that he was now leagues more dangerous than my previous assailant. If I took one wrong step, he would hit me. I had armor, but much was missing on my right arm, my face, elbows and the back of my legs. It would take a lucky strike to kill me outright but wasn’t feeling particularly lucky today. And right now, I was feeling intimidated.

But I want my sword back. It’s mine.

He had a lot of reach, much more than me. Combining the sword and his large frame, he could easily reach me from where I could still barely see him.

All I had was a bloodied rock. A single rock. I felt my mind stutter to a halt, then restart.

Ah, wait. That’s not right. There are rocks all around me.

Ok, plan number one.

I took a few more steps than I had to backwards, nearly tripping over a gravestone and into an open grave. I felt around a patch of rocks until I found one with a bit of heft to it. Holding one backup-rock in my right hand, I pulled back my left and aimed.

Breathe.

In-out.

In out.

In. Out.

Then, he was here. I first saw his foot stepping into my circle of vision, then a glint of metal ­­– my sword–, then the rough shadow of his frame. He was very large, but thin like the one before.

I aimed at his head, holding my arm as steadily as I could. Then, as he started raising his hand ever so slowly, I let it loose. Given, he was not very far away and could have easily stricken me, had he readied my sword beforehand. But the way he was dragging it on the ground, It looked as if it was too heavy even for him.

Good.

The rock hit him straight in the face. Hard to miss, at this distance. Even if standing still was like balancing on a barrel.

Stupid stars. Shoo. I need to focus.

He yowled, staggering back as he held his bloodied face.

Yes. YES! I got him.

Assured of my victory, I took my other rock and almost pounced on him, eager to finish it. A sudden upwards slash from my left dissuaded me mid-step, and I jerked back.

I felt that scrape across my arm armor! Arm-er? Vambrace!

Wait, focus!

Shit.

What I thought was an off-balance and easy to kill baddy turned out to be all but. The man swung not once or twice, but many times, wildly, screaming all the while in a deep, guttural, and cracking voice.

My sword whooshed through the air, making an intimidating sound as it pushed it apart.

He was walking forward, falling almost on me as his wild strikes cut air, air, and air again. I managed to step back, but every time I left his reach, he disappeared beyond my sight. As did the sword, which became even more frightening when it zipped in from the darkness and left back into it again, having come only inches within my face.

The guy was just not stopping! I felt my panting grow deeper, exhaustion setting in. How did he have that much energy left, he had to be as weak as a walking corpse should be. Like me, like everyone else. Right?

I was wearing armor and that was only part of what had been wearing me down all this time.

I have to attack him. I can’t stay on my feet forever and –

I tripped on an even piece of ground, falling backwards and turning to the side.

Ah Fuck.

This is it. Now he’s going to peel me open and stab me, like some stupid bug crawling across the floor.

Squish!

I covered my face with my hand and prayed to all the gods that he’d either miss me or make it quick.

I heard the swishing come closer, closer, ever closer.

Then something heavy hit me in the side and then fell onto my whole body. I tensed up, awaiting for the cold metal to bury itself into my neck. But the thing, the body writhed and I didn’t move for a few heartbeats, until I realized what had happened.

He tripped! Over me! Hah. Haha.

I wanted to laugh and cry simultaneously, but now was not the time. I rolled over, tipping him off me. He was moving a lot more sluggishly than before and I took the chance and pried my sword from his fingers. They were thicker and stronger than mine but bashing them with my rock solved that puzzle rather quickly.

Holding it way past my chest, I grasped it with both hands, even though my right elbow was aching more and more. I pressed the tip against his neck and heaved my entire body weight onto it. I pushed it until I felt it scrape between bones. Only a short, wet gurgling and coughing sound escaped his lips. His back arched, before his body went completely limp.

I don’t know for how long I sat there next to his body. Only that it must have been long, the blood having dried before I bothered to do much else.

I didn’t feel like moving. I didn’t feel like cleaning the blood off my blades and body. I didn’t feel like anything at all, not even like a person, avoiding being a person. Avoiding responsibility for what I had done. Sadly, my mind didn’t like to be empty for long and the first of many realizations wormed its way to the front.

So, I just killed two people. I murdered them. I have sinned.

That was part of the realization that I was trying to avoid. Murder. It was self-defense, yes, but to me, it was still murder. And it felt so real. I could still smell their sweat and the blood clinging to my nose. Maybe it was just my own sweat and blood in my broken nose. As my body calmed down and the pain spread from the middle of my face outwards, I buried my head in my hands.

I just got here, dammit. I just woke up! This is a dream, it’s all a dream. I’m not a murderer, I can’t be. I don’t want to be. I–I’m good. I’m a good person. A virtuous knight.

A sob heaved my body.

I want out. I’m a good egg, I swear! I don’t want to be stuck in a dream, or in hell or whatever. Let me out!

But no one answered and I was all alone.

After some time, I looked over the smaller of the two corpses, the one that had assaulted me first. The limbs were almost like sticks, with root-like lumps for joints. The ribcage stood out, like a xylophone for the heart to play on.

This one was a woman. Young or old, I can’t tell, with the face like… that. Looks almost like the face of the other guy. Huh. Death gives all upstanding and virtuous people their deserved glory, supposedly. But was this the glory they were hoping for?

If so, they must have led a horrible life. I cut their second one short, too.

Guilt.

I washed away the feelings and questions with my tears. I could finally cry now, for all it was worth. “That means you have enough water to spare” said the wise part of my mind.

“I should dig a grave for them” said the guilty part. They were still people, after all.

“They don’t deserve it; these murderers!” screamed the anger within me. It was still there, just in the back, poking and prodding. It wasn’t in control.

I’ll bury them. I think, whether they deserve it for this life or the one before, I, well. I think...

It’s the right thing to do. Even if this is a dream.

Please be a dream.

Convinced, I looked around for a wet patch of earth. Then, I remembered the large number of open graves and stone caskets lying around everywhere.

No digging required. A small comfort, for me.

I sighed.

I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to touch their… bodies. I don’t feel too much disgust. Not at them, at least. It’s just something I’d rather not do, but now isn’t the time to act all entitled and spoiled.

Still, I found a fitting casket and hefted the female body in it first. I was tempted to just put both into the same grave, but that didn’t sit quite right with me. Finding another grave nearby wasn’t too much of an issue and so, I put both he man and woman into their respective places of rest.

May you not wake up to this nightmare again.

The lids were too heavy for me to seal them shut, and so this was all I could do for now. I stood before the male corpse, staring at it. Its features were more defined to me now, as if I’d known them for a lifetime. Those sunken cheekbones on that wide face. Stocky shoulders, even emaciated as they were. Hands thick and calloused with dead skin. Hints of previous wounds poorly healed across arms and torso. An arrow wound at the side of the neck next to my finishing blow, not healed at all. Most likely the wound that was the cause of his first death.

I didn’t know what to do. What to say. Words didn’t come to me, and I felt bad.

It’s not my fault. I’m tired. Concussed. Emaciated. Recently un-starved. Un-deaded.

That wasn’t much solace for my bleeding heart. And so, I stood there, folded hands, thinking of something to say. I still felt a dryness in my throat, but after massaging it and a few deep breaths, I finally felt ready to speak.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“S… orry. Slee…p…now. Re…st. Peace. With…in…our…sun.” That’s roughly how the inscriptions went. For lack of a better alternative, they’d have to do.

They’re in a better place now. I hope. Doesn’t get much worse than endless pitch black graveyard-land.

I couldn’t take back what I did, and in the end, even if I could, I felt it unnecessary. There was some comfort knowing that there were still rules to this place. Death could still take you, human, undead or not. Undead wasn’t the right word. Bad baggage, bad connotations.

Undead only appear as monsters in stories. But I’d like to think that they weren’t monsters, were just people. And people often do desperate, stupid things when you threaten their lives.

This is going to haunt me, even after I’ve woken up. Does guilt make me a good person? At least, it’s better than If I didn’t feel a thing.

With that, I took my sword and headed off towards the location I thought I’d last seen the light. I was still at the base of the hill, and this was but the start of the climb.

I had hesitated before, but now, I had a place to be. This place was filled with danger bigger than a bristly spider and even if I had no intent of engaging with anything like it again, I swore that I wouldn’t hesitate if it came down to it.

But then again, I how could I ever be so sure of myself?

I’m probably not fit to be a knight, after all.

----------------------------------------

The climb started out shallow, the incline almost an anecdote. There were more trees here, all without leaves, dry and dead. I really was in some sort of massive graveyard, and the places of final rest for so many were laid out all over the hill.

“Final rest” being relative, of course. I was under no illusion that I was an outlier. There were evidently others like me, or at least similar in the capacity that we were both humans fighting for our lives and capable of some thought. It threw a new light on all the open graves and now that I paid some attention to it, there were signs of people having dug themselves out of the dirt. Risen from below.

Urgh. I don’t want to get grabbed by my foot and dragged under. Or just grabbed by my foot in general. Actually, scratch that, I don’t like being grabbed.

Recent encounters, the constant darkness and a most healthy paranoia was quickly erasing all want for closeness with other people, for now. Everyone was a danger, and I was suddenly acutely aware of how I was walking outside, alone in the darkness and how vulnerable that made me feel. Shadows played across my vision, as the stars slowly twinkled out, only to resurface at the corners of my eyes. Sometimes, it felt hard to tell the difference between sideways and up or down. There was no horizon, just endless blackness in all directions.

Walking around was like standing at the precipice of a long fall, that weird feeling you get when you look down and your body instinctively sways towards the abyss.

I think everyone might be inclined to fall. Lying down feels so comfortable after all. I already want to go for another nap.

A short break, maybe?

No, bad me.

As I came across a wall made of rock and loose soil, I held out my right arm. It still hurt like hell, but I felt that I could move it better, if only a bit.

It’ll get better if I move it. Slowly, carefully.

I kept my eyes on the ground and my hand on the wall while walking forward. I was getting closer to the peak, where the light had been.

Why am I not seeing it, then? Where is the light? The torchbearer? The angel, the sun or moon?

The path grew thin. I had to angle my body with my right hand forward, back to the wall.

There’s not a lot of space. I think I can manage, though.

The endless abyss before my eyes made looking down a non-issue. Not knowing how far I’d fall if the ground gave away or if I slipped off the ledge was not comforting. But it was way better than seeing hundreds of feet down and imagining how long the fall would take. How it would feel to splat like an overripe fruit.

Thoughts, thoughts, away into the box you go.

I tried whistling to calm myself, but my lips were too dry, and I quickly gave up.

On the other hand, this nothingness was like an empty canvas. I could imagine how deep it went, hundreds, no, thousands of feet. I’ve walked a long way; I could imagine myself on a mountain peak.

That’d be a long, long fall though.

I felt the earth beneath my foot shift slightly. My heart skipped a few beats.

Ahaha. It’s only a short fall, very short. Yes, yes.

After what was like a very long five minutes, give or take half an hour, I felt the wall at my back retreat. Finally, I stepped around the corner, feeling blessed solid stone under my feet again.

Relief. There it was. That feeling I needed the most. Relief. Catharsis. Accomplishment. A feathery feeling in my heart. I can do anything!

With happiness nearing elation, I looked around for any sign of, well, anything. Before me was an endless – as far as I was concerned, anything beyond three to four feet was endless – wide plain of open nothingness. Cobbled and natural stones were set into the ground, welcoming and smooth under my feet.

Even here, there were graves, albeit I couldn’t find any open ones. Only gravestones of varying sizes.

And oh boy did they vary. Where the ones below all seemed to be taken from a generous choice of rectangle slab or rectangle slab with rounded tops, the variety here was something that cried “here lies someone special”. The inscriptions were mostly weathered or washed away anyways, but it was the thought that counted.

Some big people must lie buried ‘neath these cobbled paths.

I continued on but was stumped as to which direction I should take. I was on some sort of plateau, higher than the rest of the cemetery, but the light was nowhere to be seen. I did find the tree that was being illuminated before though, going by its impressive size and the lack of any other large foliage up here. Maybe there were some signs that someone had been here.

Or something. No! Bad brain! We’re doing well for ourselves; we need good thoughts. Victory! I’m almost there.

Just a few more steps.

I checked the tree up and down, but there was nothing. No leaves, no broken twigs, no scorch marks, ash from an earlier fire, footsteps, the list of things that were explicitly not here could go on forever. What I did find were two paths. One to the left, winding and trodden into the dirt. People had most likely come here a few times and it had left somewhat of a beaten path through what looked to be a prickly underbrush. While it did descend, the thorny undergrowth didn’t make it look like a comfortable climb.

I want shoes.

Then, there was another path. It was neatly cobbled and went under a broken arch of a style I didn’t recognize but that nonetheless felt faintly familiar, as if part of a general theme snaking through this place. I wasn’t an artist nor someone who knew anything about it really, but I could tell when someone put effort into their constructions.

Or when the style changed from round arches to pointy–round ones. Big difference, I know.

The path went on with a very mild slope and while it twisted less than the one before, it constantly broke up into other plateaus filled with odd gravestones and whole mausoleums at times. It seemed to be a bit of a maze with much to explore and get lost in, but the lack of any real obstacles was a blessing to my knees and feet as I walked into it a bit and then back again.

Praise the gentle slope! Praise cobbled roads! Curse knee-high objects, thrice–be–damned!

It was obvious which path I’d pick. Why would I go down some small, un–cobbled path when I could just go the route that whoever drew up this graveyard specifically intended to be used? It would at the very least be easy to follow and had the added benefit of possibly leading me out of this place.

And so, I went down the gentle slope, hoping that whoever had carried the light had chosen in a similar vein as I had.

Then, I noticed a tiny shimmer, an almost imperceptible glow. It was scrawled along the side of one of the bigger gravestones, and with bigger, I mean about twice my size.

Man, some people just don’t know when to stop.

Contrary to most other inscriptions, which I could barely read even at half a foot away, this scribbled script instantly jumped out at me. It was glowing all on its own which made it really easy to read but the way it was clearly not written where one might expect something to be on a gravestone made me think that it was added later. I barely had to squint, it was pointing to the right with an oddly stylized hand, and it read:

Open space ahead. Therefore, despair required.

Despair required? Well, thank you dream but when I woke up to find a toad in my watering hole, I decided I would live my day just to spite you. Screw you, you can’t tell me what to do and feel, you’re not my mum!

That aside, the message was worded weirdly, and the content was proving to be a bit ominous. Did that mean I couldn’t expect the sunrise to greet me around the corner and have all my greatest hopes fulfilled?

Probably. It was pretty clear at this point that there was no sunrise. I’d have seen it coming along the horizon which, kind you, I could also not see. There was most likely no angel or similar divine being here either. There would be a lot more monster corpses around. They’re only sent against the greatest foes after all. I think? Wait, am I misremembering that or am I just second-guessing myself again?

Actually, what if there had been an angel here, but they simply decided to, I don’t know, go back to the city of the gods because they couldn’t see? Would they even do that? Gods, I hope I’m not on a wild goose chase here.

To the person who was making all that light earlier: Please come baaack!

I’d have to bet that someone was carrying a lantern or torch and that they’d simply moved on the path ahead of me. Otherwise, I’d be stuck without direction, without purpose again. The dark all around was starting to feel less confusing by the minute, but I still didn’t want my life to just consist of trudging along, one foot at a time, until I randomly bump into precisely what I was looking for.

I prefer having a goal that I can see. Or feel. Sense in some direct fashion, I guess. I felt the need to accomplish something, or at least feel like I did.

I almost stumbled again, but this time, I saw the body in front of me in time.

Corpse, that is. It was another woman, roughly my size. She was wearing some kind of armor, albeit much of the pieces considered non-essential had been stripped off. She was… completely bisected at the waist, and I couldn’t find her legs.

Hmmm…

No boots for me.

Wait, wait no, that cannot be my primary concern. Ugh, but my feet hurt so much. And if I don’t focus on something mundane like that, I’ll feel horrible again.

She didn’t look to have been looted. She must have felt the weight of her armor as well, with all that mail on her. It was like a full body dress of bloodied steel rings and it looked heavy. But she compensated for the weight elsewhere. She only had armored plates covering her arms and shoulders. She apparently didn’t have a helmet with a visor either and, judging by the not-smashed face, it seemed to have worked out for her.

It almost hadn’t for me though. I could still feel my nose being, well, nearly broken.

Maybe it was. I wasn’t sure.

I touched it.

Ow.

Let’s not do that.

Anyhow, armor. I was still feeling the weight of mine, but I also felt like I was getting used to moving around with it on me.

I think I prefer having more armor than I need rather than too little. I do have to work on my stamina though. I’ll have to get my mummified body back into a workable state first. Which will involve a lot of running. In full armor. Ugh.

That being the case, this person was dead and I, well, I had some apprehensions about looting her. It was wrong, to disturb the dead and take from them, especially when they evidently needed it afterwards.

Who knows, she might rise again, and then this was effectively theft.

I looked at her legs, evidently still missing.

Ok, maybe she won’t be doing any rising anytime soon.

I sent a quick prayer to whoever would accept it, still not able to remember the name of my own gods. The armor she was wearing didn’t look to be in great condition, and I wasn’t one for grave-robbing and – oh, wait, that shoulder-thingy is totally my size! Couter, that’s what it’s called.

And that pauldron, ugh, horribly kept. Did someone half cleave through it with an axe?

Oh, wait, is that a shield? Oh, wooden boards.

A wooden board shield.

Sigh.

I must admit that I was torn between the pragmatics and morality of the situation.

On the one hand, loot. On the other… what was the punishment for thieving again? Ugh, I can’t remember which hand I’d lose first but with any luck, it would most likely end up being my left because some idiot decided that all people are right-handed before the law. Wait, is there even anybody around to punish me?

I was very tempted, and to my shame I must admit that I gave in to weakness. “Just this once “I told myself, “it will be put to good use”. I strapped the couter over my right elbow where I was missing one of my own. It was roughly my size and kind of fit between the rerebrace – the part on my upper arm – and the vambrace on my lower arm.

I tried out how much it impeded my range of movement and even though I felt a piercing pain before the metal made me stop, I decided that this was sadly not an improvement. I had nothing to really attach it to and it just kept on slipping off.

Badly fitting armor is worse than no armor. I guess it’s supposed to be more directly fastened to the rest of my arm armor. Armor is usually made as a set which means if I want something to protect my elbow, it will have to come with an entire arm’s worth of fitting armor. And finding that in my size is nigh impossible.

The pauldron came with a bit of metal to protect my upper arm as well as my shoulder, the rerebrace. I put over my right shoulder where I didn’t have any armor at all, but I was pretty worried about the long gash that covered half of its surface. The metal was by no means thin and by the way the cut felt under my finger, it also hadn’t shattered, but was simply cut. Good steel, bad omen.

Hopefully it doesn’t fall apart on the next hit. It was a decent enough fit and getting armor in my size was not an easy task. I was not very tall at all; I was in fact smaller than the average woman.

The wooden shield was light, evidently cobbled together from random planks of different types of wood. At least one strip felt like dense wood and, well, so far, I hadn’t come across anything that would warrant a sturdier shield. I much preferred having this over nothing.

You and me, we’ll go far, plank shield. I shall name you Planky. May you live up to your name.

With this, I am the bane of bristly spiders! Huzzah! I feel a bit more complete. Now, all I need is something better than ripped mail to shield my hips & thighs, a pair of butt-plates (I forgot the name) for my posterior, some stuff to cover my lower legs, boots and then I’ll be completely invulnerable! HaHA! What do you say to THAT, nightmare-world?

Things were looking up and taunting the world felt great. I felt pressure lift from my shoulders as I put on the extra pauldron and rerebrace. The additional weight was noticeable, but for the protection it delivered, it was entirely worth it. My right arm still hurt like an absolute bitch, but I figured I’d rather take an attack on that shield arm anyways, if I really had to defend against a deadly strike.

I still had the brooch too, held fast between hand and shield grip, making sure that whatever came, I wouldn’t let go.

I stood up from the corpse, vowing to find a comfy grave to put her in as thanks, then set out once more. There were quite a few graves, big and small, but it only took me a few steps, arriving at an unusually large sarcophagus that I started getting down from my high and asking some pointed questions.

First, what killed the woman before me?

Second, since graves in the style and size of boats are evidently not in fashion throughout the graveyard, who the hell did this behemoth belong to?

Third, why is it open?

Fourth, why do I hear the sound of metal scratching on stone?

The puzzle pieces clicked together in the worst way possible.

I’m not alone up here.