The old man hopped into the water, which submerged him up to his pelvis, and waved.

Jack climbed on the rim of the boat and jumped after.

From here it looks like it's supposed to -- could give shivers to a god.

A circle of obsidian rocks poked out of the sea with trails of crimson dust flying around, slowly adding to their size. A small island covered in crystals was in the circle’s middle. On it, three altars stood.

“Now I see why you called this place the Cups of Eternity. Island with altars and crystals wouldn’t do the sight of such an incredible place coming out of the fog justice.”

“Sure, sure… There’s a completely different reason for the name, but your poeticness is appreciated.”

They passed the circle of rocks.

“Any deads gonna be here?” he asked, shaking the red dust off his shoulders.

“I gotta feeling they’ll stay away. A hunch. Though I wouldn’t bet on it. We’ve some time sure to be peaceful so we’ve to drink that filth as fast as possible.”

Hunter reached the island, Jack a moment after him.

From close, his slight worries came true -- crystals covered almost every inch of the island.

How the hell are we going to get on? Looks like a literal pain in the ass.

“Sure, sure… Only dangerous parts of a crystal are its edges. If we climb on the broken and fallen ones, avoiding the sharpness, we could get up,” Hunter strung together words. “Any better ideas?”

I see a path up of only narrow crystals. We could chop or shoot them up and climb that way. But that would take a forever we don’t have.

So, no better ideas.

Jack shook his head and took a step forward, his foot landing on a blunt crystal.

Didn’t slip.

He stepped with the other, struggling against worry. As his mind wondered about the consequences of a mistake, he focused it back on the task at hand.

Hunter followed with an angry face, dragging quite the distance.

Jack reached the altars, where the crystals cleared, and a minute later, Hunter did too. The old man dropped his serious tone, looking over the distance they cleared.

Acting like you’re always on top of things might just bite you in the ass.

One metal cup with black liquid and chunks of crimson sat on them. Hunter picked one up and swirled it around.

“It goes like this: you drink the first, I wait for a few minutes and drink the second. When you get back, you wait for me and down the third. Just be ready to do something in those visions. It could be killing someone, it could be touching something. I don’t know...”

“Two for me and one for you?”

“Indeed, I’d prefer not letting my tongue touch that filth, but also I can’t let it all be on your back.”

Jack growled.

“You won’t die, but you might see what you don’t want to.”

Jack sighed, grabbing a cup. Right now, he didn’t want to agree with what the old man said, but he didn’t have time to argue or even find a lie in those words.

I’ll be doing something no one ever has. A first. Risking everything.

This might end up being the high point of my life.

Jack put his nose up to the drink, hesitant for a moment. The smell of pine eased him a little.

“How bad could it be anyways…”

“So bad the powers that be were right in being afraid to take a sip or so good that it was their biggest mistake.”

Yes, I’ll be the first to know.

Jack gulped it down with closed eyes. A moment passed. He opened them and looked around. Nothing had changed. Hunter stood staring off into the distance and the crimson dust still swirled around the circle of obsidian rocks.

Jack put the cup back into place atop the altar. His arms and legs disappeared. One by one, his being turned to nothingness. Once he was nothing, Hunter, the obsidian circle, the crystals and the sea all disappeared, leaving Jack in the darkness.

I thought entering the Hall of Ceremony was a bad first experience with portals.

This isn’t necessarily one, but comparing these two, that one was like a ride on a calm steed.

After a while, the darkness started to morph and a stinging sensation overcame Jack. Something whooshed and he was back in the world. Though something was wrong.

***

Jack laid on cool stone in the darkness. He grabbed around until his hand felt something warm.

What is this? he touched the thing more, trying to answer himself.

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A tiny insect bit Jack’s palm.

He squealed, jerking his hand and jumping to his feet.

Calm down, this is a vision. Not a thing can happen to you. Or shouldn’t.

This is a first so I can’t be sure.

If time works like it does in reality, I have a few minutes to figure out what I need to get and actually get it.

A light started to glow: a torch on the wall. The flame revealed the dark dungeon Jack had appeared in, a few pale men who laid beside the walls and a few who stood staring at him.

“Where am I?” Jack asked. “Who are you?” Can’t waste a single second.

The men giggled then broke into full laughter.

“He’s having another fit, nameless,” one of the men--short and with a thick beard--said.

“Looks like it, nameless,” the other man--tall and bald--responded.

“Oh well. What a tragic comedy. Weird to think we’ll be like him if the cultists take us and do their experiments on u.”

“Listen… I know this is a weird fit I’m having, but can you explain what’s going on?” Jack said. “To this screwed up version of me?”

“You’re a prisoner in the dungeons, buddy,” the tall man said.

“What dungeons?”

“Some little Rednaro town’s. Ah, wha a weird taste on the tongue saying we’ve fallen so far that we’re in Rednaro..”

“Is there someone I have to kill?” First of all -- what do I do?

The man stepped back and tilted his head. “Yeah, the bastards who locked us up. Each one of them deserve to--”

“Is there an urn here?”

The man shrugged.

“Is there a way out of here?”

“Why’s that even a question? If there was, we would’ve used it, dumbass.”

One of the men waved, turned around and walked towards the wall. He put his face against it, a moment later, grinning and extended his arm. A bottle cap rolled out of a hole in that wall.

“Someone’s drinking whiskey.” The man grinned.

“What’s that?” Jack pointed.

“Peeping hole,” the man said. “We can’t get out, but we can look. It’s some fancy room.”

Jack ran up to the wall.

“Hey!” The man growled. “That’s not your peeping hole! It’s for me and only me!”

Jack rolled his eyes. “It’s a damn hole! Who cares?”

“I do because it’s my damn hole!”

“Shut up!” the other man shouted from behind. “Both of you, shut up.”

Jack turned to the man and raised a brow.

“You are--”

Something banged in the darkness. Everyone froze. The sound continued more intensely. The two men jumped and huddled near the torch. Then the banging stopped.

Jack quickly put his eye against the tiny hole. Nothing. He crouched a little and adjusted his head. A fancy room came into view. There were cupboards and a dozen seats in a circle. Jack squined. An urn sat in the corner of the room.

Alright, now I just have to get it, he grinned and-- something hit his leg.

Jack fell and the short man pinned him down.

“Damn you like a bascalle!” the man cursed. “You spend another second looking into my hole, I’ll kill you and make your skin into a hat!”

Jack slowly nodded and with shaking hands, crawled out of the man’s rough grip. He stood up grabbed the hurt limb.

He’d appeared in the vision in his outfit, its tears, scratches and stains still there. He didn’t have a mirror, but guessed he was also in his body.

I see me as me, but those madmen see me as one of them.

That’s seriously interesting.

Jack wanted to stay a while longer and figure out more of what was happening, but he had to walk into the darkness. The banging sounded like it came from a door and that would be where he’d start.

Jack walked until the torch turned into a tiny dot. Focused on the disappearing light, he crashed into something wooden. He stepped back and grabbed his nose while his hand touched around in the darkness. A splinter stung his finger and a cold metal cooled it off.

Heh, he thought. I’m getting good at finding things by hurting myself.

A bit more grabbing told him it was a wooden door with a ring shaped handle. Jack put his ear against against it. Murmurs sounded on the other side.

Alright.

He pulled on the handle. The hinges squeaked and light came over him.

Jack covered his eyes, giving each a sliver of light to adjust to the brightness.

It was a meeting room of sorts.

There were at least fifty people and each’s focus was on one thing. Their heads blocked that thing. Jack didn’t mind that he couldn’t see: at least none of them paid any attention to what was going on behind them.

He sneaked through the incredible room until he reached three doors. The floor creaked. Jack clenched his jaw and froze. No one looked back.

Close call.

He opened the door in front of him, peeped in and got out. The colors of the furniture didn’t match.

Some interesting conversation went on between the crowd. Jack caught only glimpses of words and his curiosity died to know more, though he couldn’t risk it.

Jack opened the door, grinned and closed it behind himself. He walked over and grabbed the urn.

Did I expect it to have turned to a feather? he thought, struggling to put the heavy under his shoulder.

Well, I got it. Shouldn’t this end already?

Guess I gotta wait till these five minutes are up, he thought then raised an eyebrow.

A yellowed paper laid on the ground where the urn had been. Jack grabbed it and, struggling, read two syllables.

Tongue of death in a vision, shivers ran down his back as he put the paper in his pocket.

Jack opened one of the cupboards. His eyes widened. Whiskey. Lots and lots of whiskey. He didn’t know exactly how much time had passed, but he knew he hadn’t had a sip of water or a bite of food since the filth at the Dinnerbone. He almost never drank, but now he grabbed a bottle without a second thought.

Doesn’t matter if this is a vision or a dream. At least I’ll get to taste something other than dirt and blood.

Jack finished unscrewing the cap then the ground rattled. Something banged on the other side and he dropped the bottle, almost also the urn.

He put his back against the wall and closed his eyes, waiting out the chaos that lasted for a minute. The door didn’t move again. Carefully, Jack walked over to the entrance put his ear against it.

“...ground...girl…” a few sounds seeped through.

Huge squares of void appeared and started to devour the vision. Jack’s heart dropped, he stumbled back and hit the door.

This is all a vision, you won’t die, he thought, trying to calm himself. This is just how it ends, right?

The squares of void moved closer and, in a moment, only a small circle of reality remained around him. His hands started to shake as more fear filled him. No matter what, he couldn’t calm himself.

The vision disappeared and Jack did too. The darkness started to move and mold. Vertigo and nausea almost made him throw up. He wanted to lay down on the floor and cover his mouth.

Then, he drowned. In bits and pieces, reality came back, but his ability to breathe was broken by something hard in his lungs.

Jack squealed then wiggled, but his lungs kept filling up. Darkness appeared on the edges of his vision. His whole body throbbed and his hands started to shake. Then, he dropped the cup and fully returned, the terrifying sensations gone.