UnSeelie Dreams XVIII

Then he reached a dead end. The wall glared with shards of light but for a circle of darkness. A single rosy aura gently glowed on the surface of the shadow.

Reach inside the heart of darkness, he was commanded. Slowly he touched the area with the armor glade hand; small tendrils of spiky vines wove around his fingers. He pulled back slightly but they did not follow. The red glow pulsed as he breached it again; they caressed his wrist.

He held his breath not daring to waver and felt his hand brush against something solid. He ran his palm down the hilt and gripped it firmly, pulling the blade from the brambles. As he drew the dagger forth the circle flashed stronger.

His gut screamed for him to let go but the voice didn’t answer. Trembling, he gulped for air, his lungs burning for oxygen, and gradually opened his eyes. He gagged on a cry, his instinct screamed to run but he held his ground. The decaying skull grimaced back at him.

Suddenly, he became aware that the brambles were filled with bodies at varying stages of decomposition. Limbs were torn, flesh cut to bone; the vines played amongst the pain.

Use the blade to break through the wall.

He didn’t want to approach the vision of hell. He closed his eyes against it all. What had he done to deserve this? He struggled to gather his wits back together. The inner voice instructed him on what he needed to do to survive.

Thorny vines inched toward him but didn’t dare touch him yet. He took a cleansing breath and opened his eyes. A feeling of clarity entered him and he raised the blade.

He moved in a deosil drawing the circle of protection around his body. “No harm may enter. So mote it be.” He finished casting and faced the wall. He methodically walked forward into the brambles. The wall started to shake as he got closer. Vines twisted away from the shield.

He moved through them with ease, ignoring the bodies which trembled and bones which fell to the ground. As he stepped to the other side, he noticed four rune stones in the distance. Wild flowers blossomed although the sky was dark and the runes shone with an amber glow.

You can rest within the runes.

He wanted to relax but who knew what horrors still lay ahead of him. Continuing on down the valley, he picked out the yarrow and chamomile which sprang up. A sense of healing and peace flooded the area and still he could not let his guard down.

After a while the hairs on the back of his neck started to prickle. He tensed, his heart pounding in his chest but did not change his pace.

“I know you’re out there.” He kept his eyes dead set on the runes. “Come on, if you want a piece of me.” He shifted his grip on the dagger.

Yet nothing happened, no monsters came from the dark. He reached the runes safely and leaned against their warmth. He was extremely exhausted. Tears poured down his face and he broke down.

“I-I can’t.” He gasped out as he sat down heavily. “I can’t do this anymore. I know you’re out there, you son of a bitch!” He screamed until he was hoarse.

The parasite moved within him and the voice encouraged him to sleep. Eventually, he had no choice. She was there, her soft heady musk filled his senses, and he relaxed into a deep slumber. Her long silky locks caressed his face as his head lay on her lap. She kissed his gently and held him tight.

“I love you. Remember that much, Tarran.”

He tried to tell her that he loved her, missed her. He could not form the words to speak so he silently cried tears of joy to be near her again. She began to fade as he became aware. “No. Stay with me.” He reached out to grab her; try anything to not let her go. He slowly awoke to the faint scent of Egyptian musk clinging to the air. He lay still, not wanting to move so that he could hold onto the vague memory.

His stomach growled with hunger as he sat up. He felt weak and despondent.

How can I eat when I have no food to eat? He banged his head back against the stone. I have nothing, I am nothing, he thought bitterly.

The bag carries all you need, hunter.

“I can’t eat coins, you shit.” He growled at the voice.

The bag carries all you need. It repeated firmly. All you have to do is reach inside.

He opened up the bag, looked inside and saw nothing but coins. “You lying, mother fucker.” He threw the bag to the ground.

Reach inside. The parasite squirmed causing his cheek to twitch. Or I will make you. Reluctantly he picked up the bag, reached inside, and pulled out a piece of bread. Quickly he laid the morsel down and reached inside again to pull out a flask.

“Yes.”

Then he reached back inside and found nothing but coins.

“What the hell?” He demanded.

It gives only what you need.

He grumbled as he took slow bites from the bread. He had to make this last, who knew when he would eat again. The flask was filled with mead; the honey liqueur flowed smoothly down his parched throat.

A mild breeze brushed against him, yet something out there made him look up to see two yellow eyes watching him from afar.