A small figure frantically ran atop streets filled with rubble and debris. The radiant moon that should have brightened a starry night sky was nowhere to be seen.

More than making up for its absence, the stars themselves shined with a frightening intensity, illuminating the surroundings like the brightest daylight. At least until a giant curtain of darkness devoured them about a hundred yards ahead.

A similar sight could be seen in all directions, seemingly caging Roland inside a perfect circle. These walls of darkness were however less an obstacle, and more the boundary of the to him visible area.

No matter how far he ran in any direction, the black curtain remained at equal distance. What changed was that new scenery appeared from inside of it to welcome him, whereas everything he left behind ended up swallowed whole.

And said new scenery wasn’t some randomly cobbled together creation but the city of Soren, where Roland had spent most of his life so far, give or take a couple tumultuous weeks towards the beginning.

The current area more specifically being Soren’s old industrial district, emphasis on old. Whatever past glory it may have held, now it was nothing more than part ruined battlefield part slum. And while not overly populated, there were still thousands of poor souls who called this place their home. None of them however showed up anywhere in the boy’s vision.

For this twisted world an illusion, a fleeting vision. Roland knew from experience there would only be two other beings he could encounter here. Their existence being the sole reason he was hurrying so much in the first place.

Running without pause, at speeds much too high for a boy who couldn’t be older than fourteen, Roland had a single task. One duty. Find the victim with its revolting company, and sear the scene of them into his brain.

This singular responsibility proved quite problematic at times however. Like today when he had found himself waking in a destroyed workshop somewhere at the outskirts of the area.

Having to force his way through decades old rubble, combined with a distinct lack of good vantage points, left the frantically running boy with very little time remaining before this vision ended. If he did not manage to find his targets soon, disaster would be inevitable.

“Shit,” Roland cursed under his breath, not the least bit winded even after running for more than ten minutes straight. Why did it have to put me in such a bad spot, and for a nighttime vision of all things!

He often practiced navigating the city exactly for moments like these. And his experience told him he was getting closer and closer to the Tarna, a river that due to various reason had fallen out of favor, just like the district if flowed through.

Though unlike the latter it still looked nice and remained, although not to merchants and nobles, very useful for the general populace. Which was of absolutely no help to Roland.

Even if his visions gave him physical prowess way above what he could display in the real world, they also twisted many other things to his disfavor.

Everything turned more static and behaved sluggishly as objects seemed to be stuck in place, unwilling to move unless one applied some good old fashioned physical force.

This had no noticeable effect on most solid materials, actually being helpful in that it made previously fragile footholds become easily usable. On the other hand, it also transformed what should be minor nuisances into literally insurmountable obstacles.

Water, as Roland had painfully learned in the past, became nothing but an inescapable bog inside these visions. If he entered it, the only fate in store for him was desperately struggling for breath until his time ran out and he awoke. Though it was not the worst obstacle he had encountered. That crown currently rested on fire’s ghastly visage.

Ultimately the river presented a harsh obstacle. Should the victim be on the other side, Roland might have to give up or hope a crossing point was close by. The White Mill Bridge is around here somewhere. Should head there to be safe.

Slowly reaching more familiar surroundings, Roland decided to change course into a smaller side street, heading towards an old bridge he had crossed many times before.

His decision proved to be the right choice, as his targets really were not on this side of the river. And somewhat surprisingly also not on the other one.

Instead, in a stroke of fortune, they were smack dab in the middle of the aforementioned bridge. That was however where Roland’s brief stint with luck ended.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

I’m too late! Pushing himself even further, the unfashionably late savior frantically ran forward, trying to somehow reach them in time. A hopeless endeavor as the distorted crack of wood splintering that rang through the muffled air showcased.

A large part of the wooden railing had broken into countless pieces, which were now falling towards the water, Roland’s target following closely behind.

Chastising himself for not making it faster, he literally threw himself the last few meters, painfully impacting onto the hard wood. Quickly peering over the newly created edge, Roland tried to make out any discernible traits of the person who just fell towards their watery grave.

But as if mocking his hopeless efforts the water rose into a veritable fountain, shifting around nauseatingly with no signs of calming down any time soon. The sheer volume of if made one wonder how some wood and a body could possibly create such an enormous splash.

Despite trying his best Roland could only make out some faint flailing limbs, desperately struggling against the current. As well as the second figure, which too had fallen off. Though ‘fall’ might not be the best way to describe its actions.

Freaking vulture. Expression split between anger and disgust; Roland glared at the closest thing to an enemy he had.

Floating slightly above the unfortunate victim was a person wearing a long black coat with a large hood. The cascading water and broken pieces of wood were somehow phasing right through them, not creating the slightest ripple.

From Roland’s current position only the person’s back was visible, but he had no trouble imagining that disgusting face with its beady eyes and gigantic nose.

Briefly considering whether to jump into the water, Roland quickly decided that the chance of getting any useful information inside the chaotic whirlpool was too low. He should prioritize more easily obtainable information, despite it being a lot less useful.

Eyes void of emotion, Roland stood up straight, observing his surroundings like a hawk. If identifying his target remained impossible, he at the very least needed to know everything about the place of the accident. An old, seemingly abandoned mill close by left no doubt about where exactly this place was.

It should be about three years since its owner died. Roland remembered the fairly old news about how the mill would finally be shut down, a good half of a century after it should have originally. Some people were truly tenacious, or simply stubborn beyond reasoning.

Even if said mill had ceased operating, the nearby bridge was without a doubt still used hundreds of times every day. A small part breaking could be attributed to regular wear and tear, this however is way too grand.

It was unthinkable that the bridge could be in such a state of disrepair to have fifteen of the formerly one hundred feet long railing suddenly crumble.

Could it have been a Suicide? But they wouldn’t need to break the railing for that, simply climbing over would suffice. If only I had arrived earlier to see if something impacted them from behind.

A hollow bonk pulled Roland out of his reverie. The fact that everything in his surroundings started to blur shortly after the sound made him instantly realize what had happened.

I guess it’s better than drowning slowly.

It looked like the river’s current had thrown today’s unfortunate victim against one of bridge’s giant supporting logs, killing them instantly.

The vision having reached its conclusion, everything slowly started collapsing. Like smoke being scattered in the wind, the surrounding houses, the bridge, and even the river and ground themselves were blown away.

Veins of light ran through the now trembling curtains of darkness. And Roland knew, once they were fully covered a piercing radiance would erase everything here fully while at the same time waking him from his slumber.

Having memorized everything he needed to, and with no time left anyway, Roland walked up towards the still whole railing on the other side of the bridge. Ruefully peering down into the river, he tried to spot a figure in the quickly evaporating water. Despite not seeing anything, he nonchalantly climbed over the railing and jumped feet first into the river.

Instead of screams of fear or excitement at the twenty feet fall, Roland simply sighed, bracing himself for what was to come. Any vision that went as badly as this one always left a sour taste in his mouth.

Plunging painfully into the syrup-like water, Roland couldn’t help but notice how further up the river, at the railing’s original point of impact, a giant water whirlpool remained swirling through the air even as it slowly scattered into dust.

No matter how obstructing the water was, it became hard to deny that there lay a certain beauty in the way it behaved here, turning previously ethereal moments into slowly unraveling spectacles. Sadly, the only observer around appeared quite unimpressed.

Fuck water. Being squeezed disgustingly from all sides inside the vile liquid, Roland saw no signs of his target or the black robed person. Was there something worse than things you had to do to keep a good conscience, despite fully knowing they would bring with almost absolute certainty no results whatsoever?

There probably were quite a few worse things, which did not change the irritation Roland felt, stuck in a literal river of sluggish goo. So, when a blinding light burnt his closed eyes to cinders and erased him from this world, he welcomed it with relief.

Now the only remaining problem was whether all of this had been for nothing or not. After all, there remained a distinct possibility the scene Roland saw here had already happened during the time he was asleep. For the unfortunate victim’s sake, one could only hope that this did not end up being the case.

Nighttime visions truly were the worst.