When The Voice sent me on my way, I thought that the dream was over. That I would wake up in my own home with an interesting story to tell. Instead a literal universe opened up before my eyes as I plunged head first into a sea of stars. Lost in the darkness of the cosmos, I had no idea what to do next. But then I saw it, a road made out of puke, paving the way towards the unending horizon. It was then I realized what this place was.

The Crossroads of Reality

My dream was almost over then. The greenish yellow road would take me home. Not the most dignified way to end a dream, but strangely suitable since it was probably a bender that brought the whole thing on. Stars flared to life and died around me in a riot of color as I began taking my first steps along the path that was before me.

I turned my attention towards the stars around me in an effort to take my mind off the disgusting squelching noise my feet were making traversing the path of puke. In each star I caught glimpses of someone's life. A man going to work. A couple quarreling at home. A child chasing a ball. When I saw the image of someone passing away from old age or from violence, the star's light would quickly fade as well leaving behind an amorphous chunk of darkness. When a star blazed into existence, the sight that I would see within its fiery mass was a baby taking its first breath.

Nor were the stars immobile. Each star hung by a thin red thread which connected it to the countless other stars as well. The threads constantly pulled at the stars, moving them about in a complex dance. It was as if a crimson spiderweb had been laid across the entire cosmos with the stars caught within it.

Fate

That was what the crimson web was, wasn't it? The force that The Voice claimed had a hand in almost everything in that world. The cacophony of life that surrounded me was something being organized, being cultivated, by this entity.

I then focused my attention on the horizon that the path was leading me towards and saw that the crimson web stopped just at the border of the horizon as if it had hit an invisible wall. The horizon had to be the border between dimensions then. Once I crossed into the horizon, the dream would be over. I hastened my pace. No sense in dallying any further.

.....

The path stretched on and on. How long had I been walking? Did time pass normally in this place? I impatiently pressed on towards the horizon that loomed in the distance as the red threads moved the stars about in their endless dance.

And as the stars danced, strands of the red thread began to hang loose from the tableau, drawing closer and closer to the path. I glanced at red threads and started to run. I had no idea what was going on here, but I wanted no part of it.

The threads sluggishly grasped the edge of the path and began to grope blindly across it. I frowned and stepped over the writhing threads as more and more strands began to gather at the path's edge. At this rate, the entire path would be completely carpeted by the thread.

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A sudden chill runs up my right leg as I am taking my next step. A strand of red thread had snapped upwards and lassoed itself around my leg. The lasso tightens and pulls, causing me to stumble. The threads in front of me lose their indolence and start thrashing about, forming a wall of crimson to block any progress.

I curse as I yank my leg back, easily snapping the red thread as it disintegrates. Taking heart at this sight, I charge forward and grasp the thrashing mass of crimson thread in front of me, pulling them aside to open a way through.

The threads that I touch immediately disintegrate as well and my hands slice through the barrier like sharpened blades. The red threads respond by whipping around my body like a giant snake. The coils of the thread constrict powerfully and I feel the breath being driven out of me. And just as suddenly, the serpent that wrapped its coils around me begins to fizzle and come apart by the seams. I dust myself off and continue pushing through the red mass.

....

The red is endless. No matter how much of it I destroy, there always seems more. It can't stop my progress, but the unending mass has slowed me to a crawl. Worst still, I am starting to realize that destroying the red seems to take something out of me. I am not tired, but I feel somehow diminished, less substantial. I begin to feel the cold's bite to the depths of my being. Yet the red is as strong as ever, resisting my every step.

I lift my hand and see that there is a sheen of ice forming around it. This cannot continue. I will not reach the horizon this way. The road has become impassable. I dive off the side off the road and dart through the gaps between the dancing stars. I will need to hide from the red and once it has lost me, return to the path.

.....

How long has it been? The red is everywhere. No matter where I run, no matter where I hide, it always finds me. The red sensing my weakness, has grown more aggressive. No longer content in acting as a barrier to my progress, it now seeks to corner me and lashes out wherever possible. I easily tear through these attacks, but it costs more of my precious strength. My joints have become almost completely locked up from the cold. I grit my teeth in pain as they grate and pop while running. The horizon is as distant as ever.

Soon I am no longer advancing, but in full retreat. The way back to the point where I began my journey is still clear of the red as the mass voraciously devours the path leading to the horizon ahead of me. That buys me the time to stagger back the way I came without further molestation.

The path terminates before a star. I gaze into its depths and see an image of a man serving customers at a bar.

Gallant

Its my host. It has to be. With the red seeking me out, I dive into the depths of the burning star, the only place left that is safe for me. The star swallows me whole. I burrow deep into the flaming rock, seeking to escape from the crimson horror.

But I feel the cold again as the star that represents my host begins to shake. The fire within dulls and cracks start forming across the rock.

Fate. Fate had caught up with me and gotten its claws into my host. I peer through the cracks and see the seething mass of red pressing down relentlessly upon the star.

I try shouting warnings to my host. I don't know if he can hear them. But it does not matter. The fire of my host's life begins to sputter. The red. The red is everywhere.

I gather what few embers of my host's life that are left and hold them protectively close to my chest. A meaningless gesture is the best I can do for him.

Then the star begins to collapse from the pressure, with rock and water pouring down over me. I am swept away by the flood, swept away into the dark infinity. From the darkness comes a voice I thought I would never hear again.

"Awaken, Transmigrator."