I have these dreams that I'm free...

~

"Let's make a deal," said a voice that echoed from everywhere several times over.

I didn't have a chance to respond, because I was thrust right back into reality, mere moments after dying.

There was no more searing burn in my stomach. Most people would see that as a good thing.

Most.

"DAMNIT!!" I screamed, thrusting my fist into the smooth stone wall I was leaned up against.

"Whoever's sick idea this was, it's not funny. There's nothing generous about this!!"

My own voice merely echoed around me.

I'm lost in a cave. I have no food, no weapons, no way out, not even a clue of where I am.

The wound having disappeared from my stomach wasn't good news to me by any stretch of the imagination.

I wanted to scream and cry and run my fist through the wall and smash my head in all at the same time.

So scream I did. As loud as I could until I felt like my vocal cords would tear in half, then screamed some more. It wasn't a scream of terror, but pure rage and hopelessness, like the last thing I could control in my life was this wretched sound leaving me.

I stood up and beat up the wall. It only took 2 or 3 hits to crack the skin of my knuckles, but it took dozens to crack the skin of my fury.

Eventually my hands had become covered in my own blood and my voice a dry croak, and I lost my fire. The tears of helpless anger became a streaming cry of hopeless despair.

I brought my legs in close and buried my head between them, sobbing uncontrollably as it sank in over and over again that I faced my death and the worst pain imaginable, and some sick force thought to make me do it again.

What am I supposed to do?? I asked myself a million times over.

I hugged myself and drowned in the lack of control I had over my life at that moment.

Eventually, the tears faded, and I not-so-gently lay my head against the wall again and rested my arms over my knees, feeling the sting of my tear-soaked face and blood-soaked hands.

The phoenix from earlier found its way atop my wrist, and began to lick the blood off of me. Whether it was some sick food source or it was just being nice, I really didn't have a clue.

But at that point, I was completely numb. My hair and face were a mess, and I didn't have my glasses. My eyes unfocused and glazed over the same as my mind did. I don't know how long I just sat there, thinking about nothing at all. Sometimes I focused on the phoenix's flames, other times the flickering of the purple candles on the walls.

At a certain point, my back got too sore, and I stood up and stretched.

Well.... I guess I'm up now. Hear that God? I'm up and ready for you to play your next bullshit card. What's it gonna be now?

A wave of anger came over me at the thought of some god playing games and toying with my life for entertainment, and I shoved the stone cover off the coffin before me, looking for one thing:

a weapon.

A well-dressed skeleton lay there just as still and lifeless, as, well... a still and lifeless skeleton. Seeing one in person is definitely not what they look like in cartoons.

However, in its hands rested a shiny, well-polished knife. A bit on the longer side, but it'll definitely do the job.

Preferably it won't have to do any job, but if I want even a chance at making it out of here alive, I need to be able to defend myself with something other than the fists of a small child.

I gripped the knife tightly, and of course, as obligatory of holding a knife, swung it around and sliced the air a few times to get used to the feel of it.

After a deep breath, I opened the door to this random tomb in the middle of a cave as the phoenix flew over to me and rested upon my shoulder again. My first thought was that I didn't plan any further than this.

However, my focus left my thoughts and I was immediately greeted with a sound I didn't expect: a crying girl.

After an internal sigh, I decided I would help her and pocketed the knife.

"Hey," I greeted in a very hoarse voice.

The girl, whose very large-brimmed hat was covering her face, looked up just enough for me to see her puffy, red eyes.

"Are you... a ghost?" She asked in a shaky voice.

I gave her a confused look.

"Can you... see me?"

I nodded slowly, and then it clicked, and any hopes of real human contact I'd just built up inside me dropped to zero.

Yet another damn ghost.

The woman gasped, then jumped up and threw her arms out. Before I could even think, I had jumped back noticeably, and looked to see the knife already in my hand again.

I expected her to freak out and break down and for me to have to deal with it, but no, she too drew her own knife, quickly wiping her tears with the fist that gripped her blade.

I raised my eyebrows. Both of us stood there trying to make sense of the other.

Eventually, I slowly put my knife away. She was trying to protect herself, as was I. That doesn't make her not a threat, but at least she isn't an immediate one. I questioned myself for having taken out a weapon so fast. But I guess after being stabbed, dropped down here, almost mauled, then stabbed again, I really can't be too careful.

She figured I wasn't a threat, and realized the same thing I did, and put her weapon back away, though we both now glared at each other.

Wait, why am I even holding a knife out to a ghost?? She can't do anything to me!

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Not exactly," the woman said out loud, her voice still betraying her long sob before I came out here, though that isn't to ignore the fact that she kind of just responded to my thoughts... oud loud.

"W-What?" I stammered.

"Hm?" She said.

"How'd you hear that?"

"Did you not say something out loud?"

I tilted my head, and then she did the same.

"Huh?" She pondered, and I blinked, only for her to have vanished when my eyes opened.

"This is why I hate talking to fucking GHOSTS!" I shouted, only ruining my voice further, which at this point was raspy and barely functioning.

I clenched my fists hard enough to make the scabs at my knuckles crack open. Everything just made me so pissed off. My inability to use my voice, the endless ghosts that, almost literally, haunt my every waking moment, and perhaps worst of all, the newfound ringing in my ears, which got louder every second.

Am I going crazy?

Is this what it feels like to go crazy?

My vision began to pulse and my heart pound, and I screamed again, as the voice from before echoed through my mind again. "Let's make a deal."

I screamed. "Get out of my head!!"

When the ringing and dazing wouldn't let up, I simply sprinted away from the tomb. As I ran, the world grew less and less like reality.

Even without the phoenix's flames to light my way, I could see the path before me, as its floors began to wetten with blood from somewhere, and eventually, drip from the ceiling itself. The cave seemed to have these veins running along it that pulsated a faintly-glowing red.

"Wake up," some voice echoed from nowhere in particular.

I screamed again, which at this point was basically a raspy wheeze. I looked at my hands, and they had begun to twist and morph, fingers bending in ways they shouldn't, some disappearing, some fusing together, the skin sometimes disappearing from them entirely.

I'm going crazy!!

I wasn't sure if that was even in my thoughts or said out loud. Nothing makes sense. Nothing made sense. Where am I?? What is this?? Get me out of here! I don't want this anymore!

Is this more of the sick and twisted game I'm supposed to be a pawn to? And some god just rolled snake eyes for acid trip.

"Wake up!"

Pretty soon, I couldn't keep hold of my feet or bearings anymore.

"Wake up!"

I didn't know who was speaking. There was more than one voice. I was so overloaded and confused that I tripped and fell on my face, then panicked as it sounded like I was being encircled by strangers, all of them saying "wake up."

"Wake up!!"

Reality became a blur as I covered my head with my hands and hyperventilated, the voices around me becoming something like a packed stadium screaming at me to wake up.

With everything I had in me, I tried to tear my eyes open, to "wake up," as the voices kept screaming out, but I simply couldn't. I already am awake.

The voices all seemed to cease at once, and one, clear, male voice remained.

"Wake. up." He was firm, like he was an impatient man kept waiting. The same one from earlier.

I finally managed to shake away this feeling of pure insanity, and focused on that one, clear voice.

I shook my head fervently, and opened my eyes in a crimson room, breathing heavily and sweating just as badly. Before me was an elaborate throne, and to call it "majestic" and "intricate" would be like calling eggnog "water".

The throne was empty, and standing at the foot of it was a man in a tattered black hood-cloak, though beneath it I could tell he wore a fine set of clothes befitting a man in very high standing.

"What do you want... from me?" I groaned between breaths as I tried to stand, but my legs were too weak, and I merely collapsed.

"Let's make a deal," the man chuckled condescendingly.

The man before me winked and raised his hand, which had longer-than-usual nails, and snapped his fingers. I was gently pushed backward by an unseen force and into a chair that then moved forward.

Another chair then appeared from seemingly thin air, and the man sat in it, removing his hood to reveal a strong, confident face with deep red eyes and hair, and textured, curled horns above his ears.

Another demon. This one looks more similar to Lockwood.

"Again," I mumbled. "What do you want?"

"I want to make a deal," he repeated.

I grabbed the knife in my pocket, unsure of the man's identity or trustworthiness.

He chuckled, somehow aware of this silent, practically unseen movement.

"You have my knife," he stated.

"So you're the dead man with the fancy deathbed."

His face drooped a little. "Perhaps. Not that I mind a resourceful young woman defending herself."

I can't get a read on this guy. What's he want with me? What is this hellish place?

After I gave him no response, he tilted his head, realizing I just wanted to get to the chase.

"Well," he began, shifting in his chair to get comfy and putting a bright, confident smile on his bright, confident face. "I don't often get guests. Can I treat you to some wine?"

I remained blank-faced, debating inside how I was supposed to respond or react to this stranger.

He snapped his fingers, and before him appeared a table with a black tablecloth, two wine glasses, and a bottle of wine that glowed purple and seemed to open itself and be lifted by an unseen force. Obviously it was the man doing it by some feat of power, but he didn't chant or even flinch or pay any mind to the bottle.

As soon as the last drop had entered my cup and the bottle touched the table, he cleared his throat.

"The name's Caiasiara."

He was silent, waiting for me to introduce myself. Though it was plainly obvious that he already knew who I was.

"Lydia." I thought for a moment. "But you already know that."

He smirked. "That is my curse - to know all who enter my domain. Though I suppose this isn't my domain anymore, but a mere replica of what it once was."

It was unsettling, the way he danced around the bush about what he was trying to say, like he was saying something but not saying it at all.

"Just cut to the chase," I sighed.

He raised his arms in defense and smiled. "Your wariness of me is well-deserved, I suppose. Perhaps a good sign, that you're on your best defenses in the rather hostile environment you find yourself in."

I continued to stare at him, expecting more information about who he was and where we are and what's happening to me.

"Does my name carry no significance to you, young one?"

I shook my head firmly.

He scratched his head. "I suppose it has been that long, huh? Well, there was once a time that I was the Demon King."

I cocked my head.

"But, someone much stronger than me now owns that title. I'm a soul with little power and no company."

And what does a supposed former demon king want with me?

I still don't like that you're not being straight with me.

Everything you say only raises more questions than answers.

"So... what am I doing here?" I persisted.

"Right... let's make a deal," he said yet again. "Would you like another chance at life?"

I couldn't help but laugh out loud. He gave me a confused look.

"No," I stated flatly.

He chuckled nervously. "Why not?"

"You said you 'know all who enter my domain'. How much do you know?"

Another nervous chuckle. "Everything."

"Good," I responded sharply. "Then you tell me why not."

"What if I said that this second chance could be a second chance in the true sense. I can't do much, but I can help you take control of your life. You won't be controlled by other people."

Definitely a tempting offer but, "how can you do that? What power does a dead man trapped here have?"

It was his turn to laugh out loud, a bellowing, deep laugh. "A simple tweak is all. Your soul is a confused amalgamation of multiple pasts and futures, all of which are controlled by others, which has led you here. It would be like flipping a switch - I could allow your body to match your soul, whatever that may turn out to be."

I was silent, swirling the wine he'd poured in the fancy glass.

"I should add: if you decline, you'll be on your merry way to wherever it is you go after you die. Can't say I've been granted the mercy of knowing, as you can see." He gestured around at this place we were in.

"I don't understand how that would free me from my past."

"Find your way out of here and, well, you can do whatever you want, quite frankly. Everyone thinks you're dead, so you can be whoever you want and wherever you want to be it."

I hate to say that I had a knot in my throat, that one where you hear something that's just so good it couldn't be possible, and yet, the stupid, gullible, foolish part of me thought it was.

But at the end of the day, that would require going on living.

Effectively, I'm faced with the choice to either live or die.

I took a reluctant sip of his wine; I've actually never had any alcohol. The bitter, disgusting taste was refreshingly grounding, like drinking black coffee.

I've nobody to keep going for, and I can't help but beg the question: am I worth going on for?

The immediate response all across my consciousness: no. Not really.

So then why go on?

Sure I could get a second chance, but to do what? Go on in a world where I have no family left? One full of powerful people with powerful influence who would trample on me like an ant?

Or maybe I could get a job and spend the rest of my days as a merchant. Yeah what a life that is.

There really isn't any reason to go on. No matter how I look at it, I'm not going to find love or a strong career or change the world. A second chance would be wasted on me. Not that I would decline it out of benevolence. I just want to go to sleep and not wake up again.

And even then, I'm completely alone in this cave and I don't even know what route I took to get in here to begin with, so there's not a chance in hell I'm getting out of it.

So why...

Can I not help but want to take that chance anyways?