The grotesque shadow-creature hovered above Erazon, its long, gnarled claws poised unnervingly close to his skull, as though ready to dig deep. Godric swung his hammer with all his might, but the weapon sliced through the beast like it was made of smoke. Frustration boiled up in him. The creature didn’t react, didn’t acknowledge his presence at all, its sole focus on Erazon.
“Damn it! It’s got him!” Panic laced Godric’s voice as Erazon’s body twisted in silent agony. “Solena, Orlithar! Help!”
Another swing of the hammer did nothing. The blow passed harmlessly through the creature, leaving Erazon trapped, his face contorted in pain, as though his mind was being pulled apart.
His companions rushed into the room, concern etched on their faces.
“What’s happening? Why’s your hammer out?” Solena gasped, her eyes darting to Erazon.
“Can’t you see it?” Godric pointed frantically toward the shadow looming over Erazon. “It’s right there, claws wrapped around his head! Shadows, pulling at him—I can’t stop it!”
Orlithar’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the air above Erazon. “Claws? I don’t see anything.” His hands clapped together, a spark of white energy forming between his palms. His brow furrowed in concentration as he prepared a spell.
Inside his mind, Erazon drifted, untethered from reality. The last memory he could grasp was a fierce blow to his chest, a storm of energy tearing through him. Now, he floated in a world that felt neither real nor imagined, his body heavy with exhaustion. The sky above him was a swirling mass of dull gray, while an endless black sea stretched before him. There was no ground beneath his feet, yet something unseen held him in place.
“Where... am I?” His voice echoed into the emptiness, but the silence swallowed it whole. No answers came. The horizon stretched endlessly, a weight of nothingness pressing down on him, tightening its grip around his mind.
A whisper broke the stillness, faint and distant. “Erazon...”
Heart racing, he turned to search for the source, but nothing materialized. As he stepped forward, the darkness around him thinned, and in the distance, a shore appeared. The sand shimmered with an otherworldly, golden hue, contrasting sharply against the inky black waters.
Curiosity overtook his caution as he neared the shore. A tiny sun sat atop a pedestal, radiating a soft, potent light. The whisper called again, louder now, as if beckoning from across the waters. He reached out and touched the sun, feeling its warmth surge through him, invigorating but gentle. Lifting it high, he let its light pierce the shadows that clung to his surroundings.
Beyond the shore, a structure emerged from the gloom—a building bathed in a distant glow. The sight quickened his pulse. He had to investigate.
The canoe by the shore beckoned, and with careful hands, he placed the sun within it and paddled into the darkness. The journey seemed endless as the golden sands disappeared into the horizon, leaving only the vast, empty water and swirling gray sky above. Dread gnawed at him—the fear of being lost in this void forever.
But the light ahead persisted, drawing him forward.
When he finally reached the mausoleum, the stone structure loomed before him, ancient and imposing. Strange symbols adorned its weathered surface, the most recognizable among them a falcon etched into the stone. A faint pulse of power radiated from an archway, drawing him closer.
The tiny sun in his hands felt heavier now, as though it belonged inside. Stepping through the entrance, he placed it on a pedestal. The door behind him groaned open, revealing a narrow stairwell leading deeper underground.
Each step echoed in the silence as he descended into a vast chamber lined with shelves. Vials, each filled with swirling mists of light and color, rested upon the shelves. Some glowed like trapped stars, while others pulsed with darker hues.
“These are your memories,” came the insistent whisper. “Find the right one, and reclaim your power.”
His gaze swept over the countless vials until one caught his eye—its misty gold glow tugging at him. Hesitant but compelled, he reached for it, shivering as the cool glass met his skin.
With a deep breath, he opened it.
The memory flooded him in an instant. A battlefield stretched out before him, demons with twisted, monstrous forms surrounding him. In one hand, a crimson blade gleamed with deadly intent; in the other, a spellbook hovered. Chanting words of power, golden tendrils of mist spilled from his mouth and hands, erasing the demons as they crumbled into dust.
Above, a blazing sun split the sky, casting a crimson hue over the land. A great beast appeared, its feline form burning with molten gold eyes. It tore through the enemy ranks, scattering them like shadows. The raw power of the creature surged through Erazon, matching the ferocity of the crimson sun.
But the destruction grew too great. Even the demons began to dissolve under the beast’s relentless assault. The battlefield became a wasteland, trembling as if it too would be devoured by the beast’s hunger.
Suddenly, the sun flickered, shifting from crimson to gold. A cup appeared—its liquid shimmering like blood—offered by unseen hands. The beast, driven by insatiable thirst, drank deeply. As it did, the world began to calm. The red light faded into gold, and the creature, once a harbinger of destruction, slumbered.
The memory ebbed away as swiftly as it had come, leaving him breathless, the vial in his hand now empty.
“What in the nine hells was that?” His voice barely a whisper as he stared at the now-dull vial.
On instinct, his hands reached for another vial. This time, he stood in a grand hall, instructing students on the intricate art of magic and pacts with gods. The faces of the students blurred, but his voice rang clear.
“The pacts between mortals and gods are not always so demanding. The terms depend on the god’s desire and the power they offer. The more mortals demand, the more gods take. A balance must always be struck. Yet, in some cases, the scales tip...”
The memory faded, leaving him with a sense of both enlightenment and unease. “Find your memory, find your power,” urged the whisper again, now more persistent.
Drawn deeper into the chamber, his eyes locked onto a large, strangely-shaped bottle that shimmered with energy. His hand trembled as he reached for it. Just as he prepared to open it, a loud clapping echoed through the chamber. The room trembled as the vials rattled, the light flickering ominously.
Back in the waking world, Orlithar’s hands raised, a cube of pure white light expanding from his palms. The room blazed with brilliance, revealing the shadow creature—now fully exposed—a grotesque, writhing mass of darkness with claws burrowed deep into Erazon’s mind.
“A Nightmare!” Orlithar’s voice cut through the chaos.
“Get it off him!” Solena’s voice trembled with urgency.
“I tried!” Godric’s hammer swung again, but it passed through the creature once more, useless against its smoke-like form.
A sharp beam of light tore through the room, ripping into the creatures twisted form. The creature recoiled, red eyes blazing with fury as it turned toward Solena, its gaze glowing like embers in the dark. Though its mouth opened in a scream, no sound came. Instead, they all felt it—a bone-deep tremor, an echo of raw agony that reverberated through the room. The silent howl seemed to pierce them from within as the nightmare twisted and writhed under the relentless beams of light.
Each slice of light cut deeper into the creature, its form disintegrating into ash until only a faint wisp of smoke remained.
Erazon stirred, his clenched fists gradually loosening as the tension in his body began to ease. Solena slipped her fingers into his, her hands moving gently as she felt the coldness of his skin. A soft brush of her hand cleared the damp hair from his forehead as she wiped away the sweat.
“He’s so cold,” she whispered, her brow furrowed with concern. Squeezing his hand softly, she tried to warm him.
Though Erazon remained asleep, the strain on his face eased. Whatever had been tormenting him seemed to have subsided, at least for now.
The stillness was broken by Godric’s voice, thick with confusion. “What was that thing? And what in the Nine Hells was it doing in the guild?”
Orlithar, lost in thought, stroked his chin before answering. “A Nightmare... creatures of darkness, they invade the mind, twisting memories, draining life. Left unchecked, they can corrupt—or worse.” He paused, his voice lowering. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen one.”
Gently resting her hand on Erazon’s arm, Solena asked, “Is that why he’s been asleep so long? Will he be alright? I’ve only read about such abominations..”
A sigh escaped Orlithar as he softened his tone. “He’ll be fine now. From the looks of it, the creature wasn’t here long. His arm’s already starting to heal. Let him rest another night, and we’ll discuss our journey tomorrow.”
Her eyes lingered on him as she murmured, “He looks better, but he’s still so cold.”
Orlithar examined him closely, then turned toward Godric, who still wore a puzzled expression. “How come I could see that thing when none of you could?” Godric asked.
“It’s possible,” Orlithar said after considering the question, “that when you forged your armor, you awakened something within yourself. Those red eyes o yers see things most folk can’t. It may come in handy in the days to come. But let’s hope we’ve seen the last of that devil’s tricks.”
A flicker of worry crossed Solena’s face. “Could the nightmare come back? Or... another one?”
Orlithar’s calm demeanor returned as he addressed her concern. “I’ve dispelled the illusion around the guild today. The townsfolk should be able to see it again, but the same magic may have let the nightmare find its way here. Could’ve been something wandering too far out of the Ghostlands.”
Her concern deepened, but before she could respond, the dwarf offered reassurance. “Don’t you worry lass. I’ll place protections on this room to ease yer mind.” With a raised hand, he chanted three ancient words that echoed through the chamber with power. A snap of his fingers followed, and a faint shimmer spread across the walls, sealing the room in a protective veil.
Admiring the spell, Godric broke the momentary silence with a grin. “You’re a powerful sorcerer, Orlithar. How many kinds of magic do you know?”
A glimmer of amusement appeared in the old mage’s eyes. “That’s a secret you’re not supposed to ask, lad.”
“Aye, apologies,” Godric stammered, blinking.
Orlithar chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “No harm done. Most folk can use basic magic. Then there are those who delve deeper—wizards and sorcerers who stick to one type. Some manage two. The Magus can handle three. Elder Wizards and Master Sorcerers wield five. Seven makes you an Arch Magus. Full mastery of nine? That brings ye to an Archon, and there have been less than a few of those.”
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Both Godric and Solena stared, eyes wide in disbelief. “Five types of magic? That’s... incredible,” she murmured, shaking her head.
The Master Sorcerer grinned, clearly savoring the moment. “Aye, not something you run into every day.” He straightened his robes. “I’ve got things to tend to. You two clean up and turn in early. Tomorrow, we’ll wake him.”
Glancing at his armor, Godric nodded. “I’m going to visit my father at the temple and get cleaned up before bed. I’m ready to go—ready to get through the Ghostlands and save Elii. But I see how sick Erazon is... hope he’ll be better tomorrow. Hope we don’t run into more of them things either..”
With a nudge to Orlithar’s shoulder, he added, “Old salt’s going to be speechless when he sees me in this armor!”
Orlithar managed a soft chuckle. “And don’t forget to tell him ye were the one to fix it!”
Suddenly, Lumi burst into the room, now wearing tiny red dress mirroring Solena’s. Brandishing an even tinier sword, she zipped around. “Where’s the problem? Let me at ‘em!”
The group shook their heads, subtle laughter spreading through the room. Godric, smiling, turned to the tiny pixie. “Come on little one, let’s check on Akilliz. I’ll fill you in. Erazon’s going to be fine.”
Lumi sheathed her sword, her wings fluttering. “What did I miss?” she asked, wide-eyed.
The trio left together, their voices fading as they walked down the hall, leaving Solena and Erazon alone in the quiet room. Resting peacefully for a moment, she watched over him with a careful eye. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to go get cleaned up. Don’t go scaring me like that again.” she squeezed his hand softly and left the room with a lingering glance.
Erazon’s body twitched in his sleep, his mind trapped in darkness. Flickers of light, like distant flames, illuminated a war-torn battlefield beneath a blood-red sky. The scent of burning wood filled the air as ash settled around him. His heart pounded, terror taking hold as familiar figures fought desperately in the distance. Godric. Orlithar. Solena. All locked in a hopeless battle against an overwhelming force.
In the distance, a towering figure cloaked in shadows loomed—the undead mage, Wild Wizard. His scythe crackled with dark energy as bolts of black magic tore into the earth, summoning waves of undead soldiers. One by one, his comrades fell. Orlithar crumbled to ash under a beam of dark energy. Solena’s light flickered, then vanished as shadows engulfed her. Godric’s hammer slipped from his grasp as the necromancer’s spell pierced his armor, sending him to the ground, lifeless.
“No!” Erazon’s voice finally broke free, but it was too late. His friends lay dead at his feet, their bodies twisted and still. The undead mage turned toward him, eyes glowing molten red. “Now, you will join them, Mistwalker.” the wizard hissed, his face twisting into a monstrous grin.
Erazon gasped for air, his chest heaving as his body convulsed on the bed. Sweat soaked his skin, his face twisted in agony. The cold—unbearable and suffocating—wrapped around him like chains, pulling him deeper into despair. He didn’t know how much longer he could survive it.
Then came warmth.
“Erazon!” Solena’s voice pierced through the darkness, faint but real. Though he couldn’t see her, her presence reached through the shadows like a distant light. Her hands rested on his shoulders, gently shaking him. “Wake up! I’m back!”
The dark vision clung tightly, refusing to retreat. He fought to move, to open his eyes, but his body remained frozen. Yet her touch, warm and steady, began to calm him. The terror that consumed him ebbed, retreating like a receding tide.
She wiped the sweat from his brow, her hands steady despite the fear gnawing at her. His skin was cold, clammy beneath her fingertips. She hesitated before removing his soaked shirt. Her breath caught when she saw the scar—a jagged line running from his shoulder to his hip, a wound long healed but still heavy with memory. Gently, her fingers traced the scar, her heart aching for him.
“What happened to you?” she whispered, voice soft, almost pleading.
No response came, only the ragged rise and fall of his chest. Dipping the cloth into cool water, she wiped his arms and chest gently, trying to soothe him. When his body continued to tremble, she followed her instinct. Climbing into the bed beside him, she pulled the covers over both of them, nestling against his side. Her hand found his, holding tightly as her warmth seeped into him.
“I’m here,” she whispered again, voice steady despite the rush of emotion. “I’m not leaving.”
At that moment, something shifted. His breathing, once shallow and frantic, began to slow. The battlefield in his mind dimmed. The necromancer, once towering and menacing, faded into shadows. The cries of his fallen friends quieted, until there was only silence. And her. Her warmth anchored him, drawing him back to reality.
He couldn’t wake or speak, but the panic subsided. The cold that had gripped him so fiercely was loosening. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he didn’t feel alone. Silently, he pleaded for her to stay, knowing he might not survive another horrifying vision without her by his side.
The tension in his body gradually eased as the scene dissolved. Solena traced idle patterns on Erazon’s hand, her heart heavy as she watched his face—no longer twisted in torment, but peaceful now.
“I think he’s better,” she whispered to herself, though it felt more like a prayer. Gently, she squeezed his hand, pressing it to her chest, willing her warmth to reach him completely.
Time seemed to slow as she stayed close, her head resting on the pillow beside his, their fingers still entwined. The faint shimmer of protective magic around the room glowed softly in the dim light.
“I won’t leave you alone,” she promised again, her voice soft but resolute—a quiet vow.
As the hours passed, his mind finally found peace. For the first time since his defeat, he was able to rest through the night.
His consciousness stirred, groggy and slow to rise, still lingering in the haze of forgotten dreams. Gradually, reality took hold, but a sharp pain jolted him fully awake. His left forearm throbbed. Wincing, he became more aware of his surroundings. His thoughts cleared, and his eyes fluttered open.
The first thing he noticed was the soft warmth cradling his other arm. His heart skipped. His hand wasn’t just resting somewhere—it was clasped tightly in someone else’s. Breath catching, his gaze drifted down to find his hand gently cradled against Solena’s chest.
Panic surged through him as he realized her hand was still clasped tightly around his, holding it against her as she slept. Her peaceful face was close, her breaths soft and steady. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, his first thought was how beautiful she looked—her hair falling loosely, lips slightly parted in quiet slumber.
What’s happening? Why is she holding my hand there? And how long have I been asleep? Should I move?
The questions swirled, but his mind was too groggy to find answers. Sweat clung to his skin, and panic swelled inside him. As he stared at Solena’s face, watching her breathe, something about her presence calmed him. The situation was undeniably awkward, yet her nearness was oddly comforting.
He swallowed, uncertain. What had happened while he was asleep? Unsure whether to stay still or wake her, his muscles tensed and relaxed in indecision. Before he could make a choice, she stirred.
Her emerald eyes fluttered open and met his. For a long moment, they simply stared at each other, both in silent shock. Solena’s focus dropped to their intertwined hands, still held close to her chest. Color rushed to her cheeks, turning them a deep crimson. Her eyes widened as she quickly let go, pulling the covers up to her mouth in a flustered motion.
“Erazon!” she squeaked, her voice half-muffled by the blanket. “You’re awake!”
For a beat, neither of them moved, their eyes darting anywhere but at each other. The tension in the room hung thick, yet there was an absurd lightness to it.
Peeking over the edge of the covers, Solena’s cheeks remained bright pink. Clearly unsure of what to say, she fumbled with her words. “I—I mean... you’ve been asleep for a while! I didn’t mean to—”
Erazon, still trying to process everything, managed a shaky smile. “I—uh... I didn’t mind,” he muttered awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, his own face flushing with embarrassment.
A soft, nervous laugh escaped her. She lowered the blanket slightly, though she still held it like a shield. “Oh, thank the Nine! For a moment, I thought...” She trailed off, biting her lip as her gaze dropped again, the blush deepening.
Careful not to aggravate his wound, he shifted slightly, trying to suppress a chuckle at how ridiculous the situation had become. “Well... it’s not the worst way to wake up,” he teased, though his own embarrassment was clear.
Her eyes shot back to his, and her blush deepened further. Quickly, she grabbed the covers and buried her face completely. “Stop it!” she squeaked, her voice muffled.
The sound of his chuckling made her peek out just a little from behind the blanket, her expression a mix of mortification and amusement. The tension between them dissolved, replaced by something warmer, more comfortable.
Still smiling, he tried to move his left arm, wincing slightly. “Looks like I’m still a bit of a mess,” he remarked, glancing at the partially healed wound. “But... I’m here. Thanks to you.”
The embarrassment in Solena’s eyes faded, replaced by relief. She lowered the blanket completely now, her earlier playfulness replaced with concern. “You scared us,” she admitted softly. “We didn’t know if you were going to wake up.”
Their eyes met again, this time with only understanding between them. The moment held, quiet but full of unspoken things. Before either could say more, the familiar sound of footsteps echoed outside the door, followed by a knock.
“You decent in there?” Godric’s voice boomed from the other side, as oblivious as ever.
Solena’s eyes widened in alarm, and with a final squeak, she scrambled out of bed, frantically straightening her clothes. She shot a sheepish look at Erazon before composing herself, though the flush hadn’t completely left her cheeks.
Erazon chuckled, calling out, “Yeah, come on in.”
The door swung open, and Godric entered, his armor clinking softly. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of Solena standing by the bed and Erazon sitting up, shirt missing, clearly awake.
“Ah! Sleeping beauty finally wakes,” Godric said with a wide grin. “How’re you feeling, lad? Looks like you got lucky though,” he added with a teasing wink, completely misunderstanding the situation.
Erazon rolled his eyes but couldn’t help grinning. “I’m fine. Well, mostly,” he said, glancing at his wounded arm. “But alive, thanks to you all.”
The warrior waved a hand dismissively. “Ah, that Nightmare was nothing! Orlithar did most of the work. But you’ve still got healing to do. You’re not going anywhere in that state.”
Solena, regaining her composure, chimed in. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t overdo it,” she said, though the flush on her cheeks hadn’t fully disappeared.
Godric raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by her fussing but chose not to comment. “Well, we’re just glad you’re back with us,” he said, patting Erazon on the back.
With one last chuckle, he left the room, leaving the air between Erazon and Solena more settled, more comfortable. She sat beside him again, her smile soft and relieved.
“You really had us worried,” she said gently.
“I know,” Erazon replied quietly, this time reaching for her hand deliberately. She didn’t pull away. Her head rested lightly on his shoulder as she spoke, her voice soft in his ear.
“You know what he was talking about, right? There was an actual Nightmare here. A creature I’ve only read about. It was holding your skull in its claws.”
He stiffened, pulling back slightly to meet her eyes. “A Nightmare? Is that what happened?”
She nodded, her expression troubled. “We couldn’t see it at first—only Godric could. Orlithar managed to banish it, but it was wrapped around you, pulling at your mind. What happened? Did you feel it?”
His brow furrowed, trying to find the right words. “I... I had visions. Memories—at least, I think they were memories. But it felt real, like I was living them.”
Her eyes widened. “That sounds important.” She gently took his hand, guiding him toward the door. “Let’s sit with the others. You shouldn’t have to explain it twice.”
A faint blush crept onto her face as she glanced away for a moment. “And... I also want to know about that scar on your chest.”
Erazon blinked in confusion. “Scar? What scar?” He glanced down, his eyes widening. “Where’s my shirt!?”
Biting her lip, Solena looked down, cheeks reddening. “I... I had to let it dry. You were soaked and having nightmares. I didn’t know what else to do...”
He cut her off gently, smiling. “It’s fine. I figured it got ruined in the battle anyway. I’m feeling better now. Not great, but better.”
They stood to leave, but before they stepped out, Erazon paused, still holding her hand. His golden eyes met hers, and his voice softened, full of sincerity. “I was hoping you wouldn’t leave. I couldn’t open my eyes or speak, but I knew you were there. You kept that terrible dream away. Thank you for staying with me, making sure I was okay.”
Solena’s breath caught, her eyes dropping briefly before she smiled softly. Letting go of his hand, she stepped forward and pulled him into a warm embrace. “I’m just glad you’re okay,” she whispered, her voice filled with emotion.
They lingered in each other’s embrace, sharing a quiet moment of connection. Finally, they pulled apart, and Erazon glanced down at his chest.
“I honestly don’t know where this scar came from,” he murmured, tracing the jagged line. “It looks old. Really old. No idea why it’s there.”
Solena shook her head, offering a playful smile. “Well, you’d better put your shirt on before we go out there,” she teased. “I don’t want to hear any more teasing about our... sleeping arrangement.”
He chuckled, tension completely dissolved. Retrieving his shirt from the hook near the door, he slipped it on. “It was a nice surprise, though,” he said, grinning.
Her smile turned mischievous. “I’ve never liked being alone anyway.”
His expression softened at her words. “Maybe you don’t have to be.”
They exchanged warm smiles, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Together, they headed toward the entrance to the main hall, ready to rejoin the group.
Laughter spilled out as they approached, the easy banter of their companions filling the air. As they entered, Godric sprang up from his seat, grinning.
“Welcome to the land of the living!” He clapped Erazon on the shoulder with a hearty laugh. “Gave us quite the scare, mate!”
Orlithar smiled from his seat at the table. “Aye, good to see you on your feet, lad.”
Lumi zipped into view, her tiny sword drawn, her wings fluttering. “About time! I was ready to fight off another Nightmare myself!” she chirped.
Erazon smiled, feeling the warmth of their support settling over him. “Thank you... all of you,” he said sincerely. “I don’t know what would’ve happened without you.”
Godric raised his mug. “To Erazon’s recovery! May the nightmares stay far away, and the good dreams last forever!”
A round of cheers followed, and laughter filled the hall. Erazon took a seat at the table, feeling the warmth of camaraderie and gratitude wrap around him, knowing that, no matter the battles ahead, he wasn’t alone.