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[ Again I find myself on a muddy path in the darkness, again there is a light in the distance. It seems to be farther than I remember. I hear whispers, strange whispers holding their words hostage. They speak no truth and no lie, they guide their noise to me. Letting me hear, but not understand.

I do not move from where I stand, I just listen, and stare at the light in the distance. I wonder how long it’s been there, how long it waited. I feel as if it’s been a long time since I last saw it. It can wait some more.

As I stand, the whispers continue. They sound louder now, they want me to walk on. I take a step and a shadow emerges from the darkness, into my path to the light,  reaching my feet? I look down, and see only darkness again. A blurry figure stands in my path to the light. The light itself giving it shape, a form for me to see. I stop. And it takes a step forward.

The whispers grow quiet, they listen, but no words are spoken. The figure takes another step, then another. Soon it stands before me, I feel its stare, but I see no eyes. Is it here to stop me? To wake me up like last time? Or is it just a shadow, given form by my imagination. Maybe an obstacle? Just like the warmth which always had a protector, maybe the light does as well.

“Why are you here?” It speaks. The words sound hollow, empty. It wants a reason, a reason I can’t give. I don't know why i'm here, didn’t choose to come after all.

“Why am I here?” I ask, or at least I think I do. I didn't hear my own voice, but the spectre seems to have heard, it’s hissing. I see smoke rising from its back, I guess it can't stay too long in the light.

“Why are you here?!” It shrills, before dissipating and returning to the darkness.

“Where is this?” I ask out loud, again without hearing the words.

No answer. I take a few steps forward and ask again, “Where is this?”. Again, no answer. No spectres appear, no shadows emerge, no voice is heard. I try to look around, but as I turn away from the light there is nothing, only darkness. I focus my attention back to the light, it's still there, where I left it. Did I leave it last time? I don't remember, I recall seeing the light, hearing the shadows, then waking up in a cold place.

What am I even doing here? The light still draws me in, I feel the need to reach it, but why? Is it because of the shadows? Well they’re not here anymore as far as I can tell. When I woke up in the cold place, there was nothing, no light and no darkness, only the cold. And I haven't reached the light last time as well. Maybe I should just walk away from the light, the cold at least felt real. It wasn't trying to draw me in a certain direction, wasn't pushing me away either. I-, I had a body there, I could feel…

I try to reach out and touch my head, or at least where my head should be. Nothing. There’s nothing there… I feel my body, I know that I have one, I just can't touch it, can't see it… See? How can I see the light? I try raising my hand to cover the light, and nothing. The light is still there, I can feel my hand being raised but it covers nothing. I try covering my eyes next, same result. I know I have a body, but was it real?

I can walk, I can see the darkness and the light in the distance, I can think. But I cannot control what I see, I cannot choose, I’m not even sure I can talk. What decides what is real and not? Is the darkness real because it’s afraid of the light? Or is the light real because it’s all I can see here? But if I am real, and I cannot see myself. How can the light be real if I can see it? This means one of us isn't real, right?

“Where is this?!” I scream out the words to the surrounding darkness, or at least I think I do. I try to turn around again, to face the darkness and leave the light behind, to run away from it. One of us has to be real, and If it's me then I choose not to follow the pull it has on me. But the light never strays from my sight. It follows my turn, and I soon lose all sense of direction.

It’s there, in the distance; forever in my sight, watching me. I try to back away from it, but I do not move, the distance stays the same. I try to look at the darkness around me, but I can't, the scene I see doesn't change anymore, the light either follows my sight or I am forbidden from turning away from it. Am I not a being of will?! Am I not…?

What am I? I’ve seen the spectres, the talking shadows need something from me. Maybe when I tried to reply to them before they couldn't hear me. They exist here, so maybe they have power over me. They asked why I left, why I walk, and what was I doing here. I don't understand their reasoning but maybe I can try to, try to understand them. Maybe the light is the answer.

I start making my way to the light now, the whispers that lingered in the shadows are no more. The stillness of the surrounding darkness is calming, my existence is not a matter of import, I know I exist. The question is where is it that I exist. The silhouettes that walked out from the dark seemed familiar last time I was here. Maybe I left them, maybe I walked too far from the light and left them behind. And now the light wants me back, yes… that seems reasonable. But why is it that the silhouettes could block the light and I can't? If they are of the darkness then I would be too.

Maybe I am the darkness here, or at least a part of it, that’s why I can only see the light. It’s the only thing here except from me, or again, a part of me. Every time I try to look away I see it, because I surround it, it’s in my domain. But if that’s so, then why have I no control here? Something isn’t right, I can't be the darkness, I would know. Maybe i’m in the darkness, and the light wants to draw me away from it, maybe I did leave the shadows and the spectres are cross with me for that reason. So they only show me the light so I could leave again?

So many questions, but no one to answer them. I can only do so much with no understanding of this-, this…existence? The light is closer now, I can almost feel it’s heat. Heat, I remember this feeling, I remember warmth being familiar and inviting, but that’s not the case this time. The heat I feel now is different, strange, frightening. I wants me, and I cannot resist it. I’m given no choice, and no direction other than straight to it, but maybe some of my questions will be answered.

The light flickers at my approach, I feel longing, and if I wasn't so blatantly forced to walk forward; I would think it was my choice. What am I? I remember having two arms and legs, a tail, a mouth, nose and ears, but I couldn't see. I had no eyes there, deep in the cold. So how can I see now? I am what I know, and I know what I am. I’m no shadow, I’m no being of light either. I should feel my limbs, yet I do not. I should hear my voice, yet I do not. I shouldn't see, yet I do. This isn’t what I know, so this cannot be, right?

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The light is in front of me now, its heat enveloping my being. How can I feel heat if I have no body here? This isn’t real, the light isn’t real, the darkness isn't real.

“This isn’t real.” I whisper, and my words are heard. The light disappears and there is nothing now. My sense of self returns and I am whole. I feel my body once more, my feet planted firmly in the mud, with my tail gently gliding along it. I feel the heat of the light still, it is there, I just cannot see it now, I can sense it. All is as it should be. I spread my sphere of being outwards, into what was once pure darkness, and I feel them. Countless beings of little substance standing all around me, they were the darkness before. They surround the light, they pushed me toward it.

‘Where am I?’ I will the words into my sphere of sense, my area of influence, my domain. I feel them all around me, shifting, merging and dissolving; before reappearing in a different location. They heard me now, but they refrain from acknowledging my question. This is their game, their home, they still hold power over me. I focus on the light before me, now without looking. I feel it, floating above the ground. The heat that escapes it is not as domineering as before. I place my hand on the light, feeling my palm burn away. But this still isn't real, and with but a thought my hand returns to normal, and the light does little to harm me now.

I retract my hand, now focusing a part of my will solely on the light, making a tight sphere around it, suppressing the heat and light that would escape it. And slowly, compress it with my will. I feel it struggle, and I feel the spectres shuffle in panic. I turn some of my attention back on the sphere of sense I have arround me, and with another thought I pull it towards me, making a small dome around myself, reinforced with my will. I hear spectres wail; as the light is compressed further. They have no power over me in my domain.

“What now, little light?” I ask with words flowing slowly from my mouth. The darkness cannot be without light, the spectres fear for their lives, for their existence. I compress the light further, the shrieks only help encourage me that this is right. What would happen if the light dies? Will this place collapse and I will be freed? Or will I disappear with the darkness in tow? But there is land here, I brush my tail along the ground once more, and the mud parts to confirm my thought. If the darkness is no more I will remain here, I am real.

The light is struggling now, trying to push back my will, trying to escape. I feel my mind burn, the agony lasts only but a moment as I push it down.

“Why are you here?” speaks a voice, I turn my focus on it and a being is found. It feels empty, but not hollow, a piece in a bigger whole perhaps. I feel fear and confusion emanate from it, the fear is for the safety of the light, the confusion is probably from my reinforced sphere, It cannot enter my domain.

“I don't know where here is.” I answer, the sphere I hold the light trapped in stops shrinking by my will. I will have understanding of this plane. “Where-, is-, this?!” I ask again, measuring my tone, and weaving the words into my domain, as I apply some pressure on the light once more.

“This is what you left behind,” one voice answers.

“We are the ones you’ve left in the darkness,” another voice emerges from beyond my dome.

“We are those you’ve pushed away,” a third voice whispers.

“We are the paths you would not follow,” the shadows speak in unison now, their voices float around my dome, trying to reach the light but are forbidden entry.

“We are those you did not choose,” the voices rise in volume, I feel the vibrations in the ground now. I feel the truth in their words.

“We are the ones bound by you,” and the plane stills, the vibrations are no more. The voices have nothing more to say, so they now listen, they wait.

The spectres are bound by me, if what they say is true, and I know it to be so. They can only exist in the presence of the light, so the light must be me, or a part of me. The pull I felt was from myself then, to become complete? When I compressed the light I felt pain, so maybe we are connected somehow.

They speak of rejection and imprisonment, they want me to release them, but not by killing off the light. If the light is destroyed then I too shall follow. But if they are held by me, then this plane is also mine… So how could they influence me so? The truth I felt from them isn’t whole, they’re hiding something from me.

I focus back on the light, it’s so small now… The heat I feel through my sense is now weak, the light is weak. It’s real, the light is real, it too is afraid now. The spectres, the silhouettes, the shadows… they feel wrong, they hold no lies in their words, but this doesn't feel right. Can they fool my sense? Maybe they hold bits of truths in their emotions as well… And if they said I left them behind, then maybe I did… but how, and when? They said they're bound by me, but they held power over me, maybe they knew how I would react, maybe they still hold some power over me. They lead me to the light, perhaps they also knew how I would react, and were feeding my sense of superiority. Maybe they want me to dim the light…

What happens in the darkness when there is no light to push it away? There is no darkness anymore. But what is left if both are dependant on each other? I don't see the dark anymore, I feel the silhouettes that were hiding inside. Maybe the darkness is keeping them bound, maybe they're beings of a different kind, I still feel the substance they’re made of. It's strange, can the absence of light be physical?

If the darkness is the cell, then the light is the key, and if it goes out the cell opens. They’re prisoners… my prisoners, and the light is some kind of part of me.

“What is the light?” I ask, as I slightly ease the pressure within my sphere of will.

“It is what keeps us bound.” the spectres speak in unison once more, their words hold truth.

“What are you?” I need to understand them, to know them, judge if their deception is of the makings of my limited understanding.

“We are what you could have been.” They answer, again their voices ring in unison, and again their words hold truth. If they are what I could’ve been then we are connected somehow, I just don't see that connection, how were they bound?

“Are you a part of me?” If the light is connected to me in this plane, it’s possible that the darkness is too, and they are a part of said darkness. Each spectre feels empty, but they’re countless in this plane, they represent something bigger, they’re a part of something more. But they cannot be the darkness, so if the darkness is a part of me then they are not. Yes… dark cannot be without light, and the light is a part of me.

“We are what you would not become.” The words are heard from around me, but not from everywhere as before, not all the spectres decided to answer this question. So they are not whole, yet. Maybe they are bound by being separate, maybe if the darkness is no more they will be whole, the countless pieces will flow together, and be free…But the words they spoke held truth again, and they said they’re something I would not become, but I could have.

Maybe they are a part of me, maybe once the light is no more, and the darkness is gone, they’ll flow together, swallowing me in tow. Making me become what I would not, without me choosing to do so. They chose to phrase their words around my question as well, this feels wrong.

“Who are you?” I ask, as I release the light from my hold.

“We are those who wait.” The spectres speak in unison once more, and again their words hold truth. But the question is left unanswered. I stand still, feeling the light nearby, it’s heat radiates towards me. The beings are what I could have been if I were to so choose, but I didn't; so they wait. They tell me no lies, but the truths they speak are vague. I cannot trust their words.

I turn away from the light and start walking, my dome still surrounds me. The spectres can do nothing to enter it, it’s mine, and I won't permit it. This time I see my shadow in front of me as I walk, the light still shining at my back. The spectres whisper and hiss at my passage, but they cannot stop me.

“Why do you walk?” The spectres whisper around me, some louder than others.

“Because I choose to.” I answer.

“Why did you leave?” They ask, some are screeching, others hissing the words at my passage.

“Because I chose to.”]

The cold returned to me, or did I return to the cold? It matters little. I sense around myself by slowly expanding my being, and find others like me. They’re asleep. I can sense their bodies shifting slightly, and I can feel their senses mixed and floating together. While mine can cover them all, theirs is barely enough to connect them to one another. I feel some kind of energy flowing through that connection, they’re sharing something. I wonder what it is… Maybe they share words? Or ideas? Knowledge? They’re safe, it’s all that matters.

I spread my sense to my limits, going deep into the cold hard rocks. In some areas I find hollow passages, beyond them just more cold rocks. In other areas I find nothing but the same old hard cold rocks. But in the corner of where we are right now I sense liquid. I focus on it and find it to be the same liquid I was once floating in. Now that I notice, I’m outside of my shell, the others are as well. We’re lying on some sort of soft ground, it’s doing little to keep the cold away.

In any case, the others are safe for now. The giants are also not here, and they didn't harm us. So maybe they won't do so still. I focus back to the others, they seem happy being connected to each other, maybe I can share in what they’re doing as well. I spread my being over them, creating a walled dome of will around us, just in case. I then snuggle closer to the group and weave my sense in with theirs as I fall to the land of dreams.