Halfwitch/Nightmares
From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe
Contents |
Nightmare #1
When Kay slept she dreamed and as often is the case for her, that dream turned into a nightmare-
Her eyes opened not to morning light streaming through her lover's bedroom windows. No, they opened to find the dull gray rock walls of a cave covered with pearly white cobwebs that ranged in size from mere inches to multiple stories tall. They were familiar to her but she couldn't hold onto the thought that carried the where and the when of it.
Instead of in bed, waking from a prone position, she stood as if freshly teleported from another place to her current location. A glance behind her revealed only more rock. Where there were no webs the surface of the stone glistened with an iridescent slime and condensation. Furrowing her brow she contemplated where she had just been and what had brought her there.
And why.
Though confused she closed her eyes for the briefest of seconds being unwilling to commit more time than necessary to unnecessary vulnerability. Even with no knowledge of her surroundings she knew enough to be cautious. After a deep breath she opened her palms with every intention of calling forth Hansel and Gretel – her blades forged through might and will the day she turned eleven years old. Created of magic through ritual the hilts of wood and stone carried a part of herself, of her soul. To wield them was a comfort. To move in tandem with the external rhythm of her own personal fighting style was a soothing balm – a reinforcement of self, an extension of her identity.
Here, though, they failed her, refusing to manifest and denying her access to herself in its entirety. She tried again and then again and with each subsequent failure Kay became increasingly unsure, more concerned, for her personal safety.
No blades.
A Bladewielder with no blades. Subconsciously she touched her side, the tattoo of definition hidden beneath her shirt.
“Alright,” she said aloud to no one but herself. “At least I have this.”
Her heart reached out to her defenses, calling for the magic to shine its light and wrap her in it's protective warmth
It didn't answer.
The link to her magic, her lifeline to half of her identity, seemed to have been severed. It was almost as if the connection had never existed at all. Kaydora Henson, the Halfwitch, found herself simple, plain, and without.
Lacking.
In that state she felt fear, palpable as sweat that ran in rivulets down her spine.
She had no offense.
She had no defense.
She had become something other than the self she knew and recognizing that pushed her towards action.
Her eyes scanned her surroundings. Webs most often meant spiders but lucky she had never been frightened of them. She did have a pet spider, after all. Hopefully whatever made the webs meant her no ill will.
Kay had a decision to make. She could make a constituted effort to find her way out or she could sit on her ass and do nothing, waiting on a rescue that may never come. In her mind there was really only one real option. Three tunnels branched from where she stood. Forward. Left. Right. Indecision would bring her nothing so she chose left and took off at a measured pace. Though there were twists and even slight curving turns she found no branches and no new corridors. After what must have been hours, she began to fear she'd never find its end. The scenery never changed from rock and webs and that sameness began to eat at her mind. To keep herself from questioning, from focusing on what was wrong, she kept her mind busy. First she recalled herbs and their uses, clinging to her secondary definition as an herbweaver. She was still running when the list ran dry so she switched to people. Each name, each friend she pictured in her mind's eye bolstered her courage and determination.
Time lost all meaning. Accustomed to having access to her magic and through it a steady influx of endurance, it surprised her when she was forced to stop. Breathing heavily, panting even, she wiped the sweat from her brow. Her skin glistened even in the dull light that came from … somewhere and everywhere all at once.
Thirst. Hunger. Weariness. The consequences were making themselves known and it was obvious something was about to give.
Standing there on a slight slope she paused, gathering her strength to continue. She glanced over to the moisture on the walls. It would be foolish to try and use it to wet her lips. There was no evidence it wouldn't kill her outright. The situation wasn't so dire as for her to take that risk. Not yet anyway. But if things continued as they were, she knew the time would come when she'd have no choice. Already her tongue seemed thickened and hard to move, her saliva was nearly gone, and there was a tightness in her throat no amount of clearing seem to remedy. She stared, made a choice, then stepped forward, reaching out to touch the wet stone with two fingers.
The moment she did she was sent tumbling. Her sense of direction was thrown off balance as if she were cast into space. Bile rose in her throat as nausea washed over her. As a woman who loved roller coasters and every heart pounding ride a theme park could offer the loss of equilibrium should not have hit her as badly as it did. The loss of her magic, she immediately thought, must be the reason for it.
Kay's eyes slammed shut as she felt a multitude of sensations all at the same time – like fireworks exploding from every nerve ending. She was a lone sock tumbling in a dryer, a blender set to high, an egg on rapid boil. Curl up. Retreat. Ride it out. “Please stop,” she begged. “Stop. Stop. Stop. Please.” Though it felt pathetic, such a strong woman suddenly reduced to hurt child, she could do nothing else but plead.
Kay tumbled end over end until her body became numb and her thoughts ceased it's petitioning. A witch, whose magic was born of connections, had lost any semblance of connection to anything solid. She existed in silence, in some sort of limbo.
Or at least she did until she didn't.
Pain.
Her body's journey stopped quickly as she hit, back first, against something solid - the ground. Shoulders, ass, and heels bounced, the pain reverberating over every inch of her upon contact. Forced out of the fetal position her head made impact next, starbursts and lightning flashing on the back of her eyelids. A gasp brought air back into her lungs and she couldn't help but cry out, “Oh god!” Nothing had shattered and she was still alive. Whether her survival was because of luck or external interference she didn't know and honestly she didn't care. She would take the win, happy enough to no longer be moving.
How long she lay there she didn't know, time was still elusive, but considering the world still spun and dizziness threatened to keep her still she vowed not to give in. Beneath her she assumed was dirt and when she finally decided to test her theory she found herself proven correct. She smiled softly but the smile turned into a grimace the moment she attempted to rise. Those first steps were stumbles, as if she were drunk or had played that childish party game where you made yourself dizzy circling a baseball bat just so people can watch you fall on your face.
The world refused to stay put.
It was obvious she hadn't recovered enough to move on so she dropped to her knees, rocking side to side with her palms flat on the ground.
“Breathe,” she told herself. “Slow and steady. Breathe.” Slowly she counted. “One. Two.” She recalled the summoning of a Shardblade in The Way of Kings. Ten heartbeats. She counted hers. “Three. Four. Fi-”
“Here,” said a voice in front of her. It was the first hint that Kay was not alone. Her head lifted, slowly, but even doing so at a snail's pace did nothing to negate the headache – the thrumming, pounding, ache – that bore down on her.
Light. A humanoid form swallowed by light but without substance. Whoever it was shone so bright it hurt her eyes but look she did. She didn't want to be alone. Her eyes took in the outline of light and realized there was something dark, some object, in what could possibly be considered a hand.
It was a dual edged dagger with a black grip with a red ruby in its pommel shaped into the form of a skull. Just like the cave it seemed familiar but still the facts danced unknown at the back of her mind. Even without remembering it was easy to recognize the feeling that swelled in her chest when she looked at it.
Dread.
Her breath froze in her chest, every ache and pinpoint of pain in her battered body highlighted and amplified tenfold.
“I don't want it,” she croaked, her words choppy as a stormy sea.
The only response from the being in front of her was to toss the dagger onto the dry, grass-less soil in front of her. Her gaze moved to it then back up and in that hairsbreadth of time the being disappeared, leaving Kay once again alone.
Alone but no longer unprotected.
She stared at the weapon. No part of her wanted to touch it and the very idea that she needed to, that she needed its protection, was devastating. Without her magic she was weak and that would be true even if she hadn't been as weakened and damaged as she was now. The dagger offered her protection, an obvious offense and defense against whatever would come next. She picked it up. The familiarity was still there, its tug stronger than before, but she chose not to think on it -knowing it would do no good. Her head hurt too badly to think anyway.
Dagger in hand she stood and looked around her, wobbling only a little on her feet. Though where she stood was bare the same could not be said of the area surrounding her. About a car length away in every direction she could see huge boulders, each of which ranged in height from seven to nine feet. They glistened, just like the cave walls, but she knew better now. She'd keep her hands to herself. If she were sent tumbling again Kay was afraid she wouldn't survive.
With no choice but to move on she chose a random direction and began to weave through the boulders. Other than size there was no difference of note. It seemed repetition, blandness, silence, and solitude were to be her constant companions. Moving on unsteady feet she was thankful that whatever or whoever had control of the situation had seen fit to let her keep her boots. Her skin felt warm, the air thick and heavy.
It all seemed dull and without purpose until, perhaps hours later, she made a left turn around one of the larger boulders and came face to face with something different. Coming to a sudden stop she couldn't help but stand and stare. There, seemingly embedded in the boulder directly in front of her and outlined in a faint bluish light, was a figure, someone she knew.
Tember.
Kay narrowed her brows, turning in a circle, but found nothing else changed. She was still alone. Her hand tightened its grip on the dagger as she stepped closer to the boulder, wisely keeping a two feet distance. She wanted to reach out and it angered her that she couldn't. It took a lot of self-control to show restraint.
“What am I supposed to do?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
No answer was forthcoming.
Biting her lip she could feel her heart breaking. Even while suffering dehydration she found she could cry and with each tear that fell more of her energy leaked away. Her eyes never stopped moving as she remained on guard, waiting for the next shoe to drop. There was nothing, no hint and no clue, as to the purpose of her friend's imprisonment.
Then came another soft glow, this one to her right. She caught sight of it out of the corner of her eye and turned slowly towards it.
Jason. Then another further to the left. Kari. And another beyond that. Leonne. All three, too, were still and silent, eyes staring ahead and without any sign of being alive.
Stumbling back Kay moved quickly from one boulder to another. They had been empty but now each held a person, either family or friend, someone Kay cared for.
Terri. Colt. Limi. Her brother. Gideon. Click. Alistair. Manny. Her parents. Helen. Abner. Connie.
Everywhere she turned she found another one. The faces begin to blur and it was all she could do to recognize them, say their name, and move on to the next. There were so many. It was everyone in her life.
Save one.
Her heart begged the universe to keep him from such a fate, to keep him from appearing. Each soul she found that wasn't him kept hope alive. It was a small thing to cling to but it was all she had.
Then hope, too, taken from her.
It was the last one she needed to check, a boulder buffeted by fog at its back. The figure inside it was outlined in the same soft glow but unlike the others its glow pulsed.
Will Lightman.
Her Will.
“No,” she whispered. “No.”
She couldn't touch him, forced to stand at a distance. Seeing him filled her with longing. For comfort. For reassurance. For companionship. For him. How could someone feel such loss? She needed him alive and beside her.
“You'll have to settle for me.”
Hands grabbed her shoulders as the words were said and she was turned sharply around. For a split second she expected to come face to face with the form of light from earlier, the one who had given her the dagger, but that was not to be.
Daniel.
He frowned at her, shifting his eyes downward, and her eyes followed his gaze. The dagger, still in her hand, was now buried up to the hilt in his side. Kay had not intended to do it, hadn't even felt it slide in.
His hand wrapped around her own, holding the dagger firmly in place. She tugged, putting a hand on his chest in an effort to gain some leverage but she found none. His free hand grasped her other wrist and pulled up, yanking her forward. Her body slammed into his chest and he used the resulting instability to wrestle her arm behind her back.
“Let me go,” she demanded. She didn't want him to see the fear in her eyes or the despair. She wanted him to see only loathing and disgust.
He laughed and as he laughed his body seemed to shimmer and shift, morphing before her eyes into Will. Her eyes widened, her gaze instantly reverting to the boulder. It now stood without man or glow.
“Am I me or am I him?” said the man she'd stabbed, the man who refused to set her free. But he didn't speak in his own voice, didn't wear his own face. He looked like Will and he sounded like Will. She renewed her struggle but she couldn't do it. She cried and screamed, thrashing her body this way and that while using every tactic she knew to fight, Even a knee to the crotch didn't work.
He continued to laugh, his laugh Will's laugh.
Magic failed her.
Her eyes flailed, looking back at the other boulders where the rest of them still remained locked away. They couldn't help her in the same way she couldn't help them. Weakened and in pain Kay eventually tired and ceased struggling. She couldn't bear to look at him. She knew it couldn't be him.
“That's better. You're even more beautiful when your beaten and broken,” he whispered as he angled his head down towards her own. She tilted her head back and away, trying to avoid eye contact.
“Would you rather kiss me or watch him bleed out and die?” he asked.
Her gaze moved downward toward the wound. He still bled, the dark red liquid cascading like a waterfall down his leg. The fabric was soaked with it. Reluctantly she lifted her head.
He watched her with Will's eyes.
Kay couldn't reconcile the difference, the absurdity, the impossibility. “If we're being honest I'm not sure which option I'd prefer you choose,” he told her. In one swift motion he shoved her hand backward and thus the dagger backwards as well, yanking it from his body.
“No!” she cried out. In that instant her hand was free and there existed a moment where swift action could have been taken. But she was in no condition to take advantage of it. She could only stare. Quickly enough he re-grabbed her hand, pressing it flat against the wound. Blood seeped through her splayed fingers - the thickening sticky fluid swallowing her hand.
Familiar but wrong.
Her head lifted and their eyes met again. “No,” she begged and this time she knew he could see every emotion, her failure, in her eyes. Mentally and emotionally Kay folded in on herself, the life that usually shone so bright with soft smiles and gentle touches crumbled and withered.
Defeated.
She was alone, without help, and now she was even unsure of what was real.
“Good girl,” he whispered, pushing her bent and pinned arm further up her back. She arched, gasping at the sudden influx of pain and it was then that he kissed her.
It was a kiss full of violence and promise, one she could not escape. Then that kiss, the one that obviously came from Daniel, changed. Just as the man had shifted so did his kiss. She knew that new kiss, the touch of those gentle lips. It was something she could never forget and it made no sense.
It wasn't him, wasn't Will.
It couldn't be.
“Kay,” he said, speaking her name against her lips..
It wasn't him her heart screamed.
It couldn't be his blood that coated her hand.
“Kay,” he said again and in that moment she wished she were dead.
The next second, once her wish had been made, her eyes flew open. Someone was calling her name. She blinked.
His eyes. His voice.
For a moment she could only stare at him in horror, wrapped in her own despair, until suddenly it was gone. Whatever had fueled her terror, making her heart race and tears spring to her eyes, faded. Though she searched her mind for it, she couldn't find it, couldn't remember any of it. Love and joy poured in.
She offered Will a smile and said, “Morning, you.”
Nightmare #2
When sleep claimed Kay that night her dreams once again became a nightmare. Stress and emotional trauma had a habit of bringing them on.
The cry echoed across the forest, the woods shaking with its ferocity. It was a pain filled scream, the scream of someone who knew he was about to die. Frozen, unable to move, Kay could see nothing but trees. From where she stood her vision was obscured. The fight was happening away from her, as if she were not even there.
Why couldn't she move? She could turn her head and look up and down but no limb obeyed her command. There was no wound, not that she could see. No one was with her, neither friend or foe. Kay just couldn't move.
It filled the air again, that horrible cry, and when it did it not only tore her heart in two but it broke her spirit and soul, as well. She instantly knew who was suffering, who was dying.
Starblaze.
And if he was dying then that would mean only the worst of things for Will.
Somehow she had let them down, had not been enough to keep them safe and alive. She'd failed. That was why she was frozen, she knew, the shock and realization of her own inadequacies. He needed her and she needed to get to them but like a pillar of stone she was unable to move of her own volition. Letting out her own scream of frustration, a primal, external expression of her internal suffering, she told herself she would do something. Anything she could.
“I did it for you.”
Her head jerked to the right, to the man who had caused all of it. Alistair. He walked towards her with a knife in his hand. Kay glanced at the weapon, gasping at the blood that coated it. Will's blood.
He had done this. Murder. It wasn't some random killing to stop some other violent person but a planned and well executed trap in response to their ambush. Her eyes narrowed, her breathing growing shallow. Anger replaced the blood in her veins,
“Not for me.”
Alistair stepped closer, no fear in his eyes. Why wasn't he afraid of her? How could he be so calm and collected after doing what he did? How could he ever have thought she would want this to happen?
“I did it for you,” he repeated.
Suddenly she knew she could move. No longer frozen it took only one step and an inaudible call to her blades to give Alistair the gift he so justly deserved.
Not solid, her blades entered him like a hot knife through butter. As he stumbled back she followed through with another sweep, Hansel and Gretel biting into the connection he had to the evil within himself. Separation wasn't on her mind, however, not this time.
He needed to suffer and suffer he did as evidenced by his screams. Caught off guard by her attack he tried to escape, lifting into the air, but she thwarted that by catching hold of his ankle. His free foot kicked at her. His boot scraped her cheek and split open her lip. Her nose gushed blood. Still she held on. Fading her blades she grabbed him with both hands and yanked, slamming him to the ground with strength she didn't know she had.
The thwack of his body hitting the ground sounded to her ears like a gunshot. She smiled, comforted by it.
Feeling as if she weren't herself, as if she was someone else who could do what needed doing, she rounded on the man's prone figure. Next to him lay the dagger he'd dropped during his attempt to escape his fate. Kay leaped for it, scooping it up as she came to straddle the man who must be punished.
Hansel, her left blade of light, flared to life and rested on his neck. Her right hand was raised, dagger aimed down. She was making sure he could see it, could see the weapon of his own demise.
“For me?” She said, the words cold as ice, almost heartless. “How dare you.”
She struck. The dagger fell, plunged deep into the man's heart with a sickening, yet rewarding, sound. Her magical blade, that which severs connections she moved from his neck to his side.
This time he was the one in pain and when he began to scream she laughed. Laughter, punctuated with her tears, was the new echo when his cry became silent, his eyes dull, and his body empty. Eventually that laughter turned to sobs and she pulled the dagger free. It was a not so unfamiliar feeling. Sitting there atop his body she doubled over and sobbed, eyes closed because she couldn't bring herself to look at Alistair's face.
“It's over. Finally it's over,” she whispered to herself.
When she opened her eyes, intent on finding the body of her boyfriend, she found instead that she was no longer in a forest but at home, in bed beside the man who had lost half himself to a madman.
“It's over,” she told him.
“What's over?” he asked.
Opening her mouth she realized she couldn't remember. The feeling of completion was gone, the sense that something had been made better, was nowhere to be found.
“I don't know,” was all she could reply.
Nightmare #3
Kay is exhausted and knows she should sleep but she fights it anyway. Will, the patient and loving man he is, isn't leaving her side. As she showered, still trembling. As she dressed. He even kept her close as he made her hot chocolate with whipped cream and chocolate shavings. With his help she is able to make it to the couch where the two sit together, his arms tightly around her, holding her close. She sips her drink and when she is done he sets the empty mug aside. The television is off and Alice, the house AI, is playing one of Will's playlists. Calm, soothing music.
She snuggles down into his arms. One would think everything is fine and in some ways it is. But still Kay shivers every so often, the events of the night having shaken her far more than she thought. She isn't sure how to make it stop, to make her body relax enough to let it go. Sleep might help but it might not. So she clings to her paramour, letting him be her anchor in the real world. She's tried closing her eyes but without warning his face will appear, hovering, and she freezes. Again. It's in those moments she can't breath, air just out of reach and a gnawing fear deep in her gut. Only Will's tight hold keeps her grounded.
So she talks and keeps talking, the topics anything and everything she can think of. Building their future home, getting involved in the charity work of Sunlight, LLC., and possibly getting a cat are just a few of the things she brought up. Eventually, however, sleep demand its due and she's mumbling, her body unable to fight any longer as her eyes close.
Sleep comes for her and as she drifts off she whispers, “Please don't let me go.” The words are a plea, begging, as if fear is the last thing on her mind before giving in.
When she opens her eyes again at first all Kay feels is warmth and that makes her smile. She likes being warm and cozy. It's like being cocooned under the covers on a chilly morning entwined in the arms of your lover. It is that kind of warmth, the perfect kind. Safety. Completeness. Joy. Where she is right now the world's problems don't exist and that is … okay.
This place is gray. All of it. No ground and sky but yet she stands on some part of it. It is the gray of a sunless, overcast day. That's fine. She feels like walking anyway so she does, a smile plastered on her face. And as she walks, hands out with palms down plants begin to sprout, to flower, making their own path along with hers. They bloom and rise, reaching tendrils, leaves, and fronds out like overeager fans at a concert. That makes her laugh and she can't help but grin when Spren, her little obsidian crystal's wisp form, appears to dance and flit about in the air around her. “Even you're content here,” she tells her.
“Kaydora.”
Kay pauses, hearing her name hollered from some distance away. She smiles and lifts a hand, waving enthusiastically to a figure she can't quite make out. Company sounds nice. Conversation another joy to be had.
“I'm here!” She calls out, turning with every intention of asking Spren if she can tell who the figure is. But it is not Spren she finds.
White-Hair.
He is there where he shouldn't be. In her face. Black eyes gaze into her own. The White Zircon. The white hair. If he is there then that means... Steam envelops her from behind. The large white crystalline mass of the teleporter's other half. He, too, is there. Kay freezes. Darkness washes over her and she remembers feeling it before, remembers the emptiness this Deolus can impart by his very presence. A sorrow-filled hole settles into the pit of her stomach and just like before she can't breath. Gasping, she watches as the flora retreats, the gray turns darker, and a purple mist begins to descend from above. The White-Hair blinks. She can't let him touch her. It's the one rule.
Though she is having trouble catching her breath she has enough wits about her to drops sideways, out of the way of his hand. Before hitting the ground she rolls until she's nearly horizontal then lifts into the air. She can fly and fly she does. Straight up into the purple mist.
Spurred on via adrenaline she flies for an indeterminate amount of time, until she can hope she's lost them. There are no signs they've followed her but even still she chooses not to drift below the mist to check. Hovering, she takes the opportunity to catch her breath. She can not understand why she can't seem to get any air into her lungs when he is near. One hand on her chest, Spren nowhere to be found, Kay takes in her surroundings. Purple mist. That's all. It's too thick to see where she should go, where she might find a way out. Her only choices are to go up or down and either could see her caught.
Both hands make fists. Her blades don't work here. She has neither offensive nor defensive capabilities. Her only chance is to flee. Once again she finds she can breath. She must be safe. For now.
Music. Singing. Kay's eyes dart around. It's merely the voice, no manifestation on this plane. She tries to tune out the song but she can't. It's every where.
“Don't let my shards see you...”
“They could show up at any time and attack her...”
“..Kaydora..”
“You could be his downfall,”
“... our freedom.”
“Your connection is evident.”
“... use you to get to me.”
It's too much. She hears the phrases, spoken by those who'd first said them, as if they are right beside her but at the same time the song plays, overshadowing it, making it all nearly impossible to understand. Nearly. Kay hears and takes to heart every word.
“Stop!” she screams at the top of her lungs. It doesn't stop so she turns and flies a few more feet in a random direction and screams again. It seems she doesn't care or hasn't realized that by doing so she is broadcasting her location to those who are chasing her. “I said STOP! Leave me alone. Why me? Why?”
Though Kay keeps her eyes on the offensive, trying spot any change in the mist she sees nothing. The voices stop but the singing doesn't, it merely decreases in volume so that it jabs at her like an itch you just can't reach to scratch.
Laughter. Feminine. Pround. Haughty and knowing.
Out of the corner of her eye catches sight of a hand rising from the mist below and it's by chance she's able to pull her foot away quick enough. “No!” she whispers, one again the air yanked from her lungs. She flies. She flies through the mist, unable to see more than a foot or so before her. The lack of visibility doesn't seem to concern her but it should. Escape. That is the only thing on her mind as she moves through the air.
Then it appears out of nowhere. Kay has only a split second to realize it's there but that is not enough time. Lucky for her she's flying Superman style, arms out straight in front of her. If she had flown any other way her death would have been instantaneous. As it is her fingertips touch first, the fingers bursting like sausages as she rams into the side of the crystal covered mountain. Bones crunch, arms shattering and splitting. For a moment she is confused, unsure how or why it hurts. It shouldn't be physical but... somehow she knows that's exactly what this is. Kay's arms no longer hold any resemblance to a woman's visage, instead having become a broken thing. Her mind tells her body to pull up short but like a car taking a turn too quickly she slides with the momentum, her only saving grace that she's able to twist and turn, straightening her body. Head, hips, and shoulder make contact but without as much force. Still her scalp is torn, a few of the cuts deep enough to send blood cascading down her face, her eyes seeing stars. The right shoulder is pushed into itself, the bones thrust out of place in and down and her hip does the same. They don't turn to dust but they do break, creaking and snapping until she's come to a stop.
For a moment her body hangs in there, a silent scream on her face and her eyes wide and blurry with pain. Only then does she drop, collapsing from her collective injuries. It's a wonder she's still alive.
When her body hits the ground it rolls end over end like a rag doll pushed down a steep flight of stairs. The rocky surface sees to it that every inch of her physical form is battered and bruised, gouged or torn. After a few short minutes her body comes to a stop on a flat outcropping, having missed being tossed over the side by mere inches. Kay is now sprawled on her back, face up, with her eyes closed. She can't breath but this time it isn't the working of an outside force. This time it's from the inside, each slow intake one of fire and pain. Opening her eyes she instantly knows she can't move. With effort perhaps what was left of her could fly but it would hurt to try and she hurts so very much.
Here there is no medbeacon, no healer, no one to come to her rescue.
Spren's obsidian form was shattered as Kay rolled. Even that small comfort is denied her. So she lays on the side of the mountain, a place she shouldn't be, and stares up into the mist above. Tears spill out from the corner of her eyes to pool in the nooks and crannies beneath her head.
The mist darkens, the air becoming thicker, a heavy presence on her already nearly destroyed body. The are coming. She can feel it. This mountain is no ordinary mountain. It's hers, it's their master's home. She realizes she is so close to where it could all be ended, so close to where the creature behind the song could be fought and destroyed. So close yet so far.
Kay will not succeed and that knowledge breaks her heart in a much harsher way than slamming into a mountain ever could have. The song changes. It grows in intensity and volume, the words clearer, gentler, sweeter, nearly comforting. Why had she fought so hard not to hear it? Why had she been so determined to silence it? Her chest tightens and she gasps. It hurts so much and there is no promise the pain will stop anytime soon. She is suffering and she is suffering alone.
She wants it to stop.
Steam fills the air between dying woman and mist. They have arrived, they have found her. His face appears, his black pupils looking down at her, his expression unreadable. Her mouth opens, her lips dry but for a few droplets of crimson blood in the corner. The red seems so vibrant against Kay's paling flesh. More steam covers her as the largest of the pair breaths out. She can't see him, can't turn her head to even try, but it is obvious they are both there. The steam should be warm but the ability to feel warmth has now come and gone, leaving her cold and almost lifeless.
The song, still there, has grown loud enough to cover up the irregular beat of Kay's heart.
“Please,” she says, the words barely even a whisper. “Please,” she repeats. The second time is inaudible.
-Please tell Will I love him with all that I am, for always.
-Please watch over Philip.
-Please keep Leoone safe.
-Please bless Jason and Terri.
-Please reassure Zex.
-Please make the world better in my stead.
-Please save them all, everyone I can't.
Her breath rattles and she sees the mist lowering like a blanket come to comfort her. The song is beautiful now, so beautiful.
“I'm scared,” she admits soundlessly to those who are watching her.
Her body hitches. It hurts to cry, to feel, to exist but Kay doesn't want to die. She doesn't want to be without, to be no more. She was supposed to get married and have children, to be a godparent. She was supposed to make a difference in the world – she and Will side by side. She was supposed to watch her brother become the man and hero he's meant to be, see him create his own family. Friends. Loved ones. She would miss so much. She would miss them.
She cries softly, quietly, and as she's crying the mist bears down, filled with the crystals song. Teh last thing she sees is the teleporter's hand hovering, fingertips mere inches from her face.
Kay gasps, startling awake. Her heart pounds. Will, his arms still around her, shushes her as he whispers comforting words, pats her hair, and kisses her head. He reminds her that he's there, that she's safe, that she's merely had a nightmare. None of it had been real.
Taking long slow deep breaths, her body trembling, Kay frowns. A nightmare. Another one she can't remember. Had she been whimpering or struggling in her sleep? Again? She nods, feeling her heartbeat slowing and her breathing return to normal. Though she can't remember the dream she can easily imagine the stars of the show.
Crystal men and their master. One of many threats.
Will's arms tighten around her tense body and she forces herself to relax, snuggling against him. She is safe. Right now she clings to that surety, that fact. No more nightmares. She can't keep doing this, she thinks. It's time, again, for her to use a sleep spell.
Nightmare #4
When Kay returns from meeting with her brother at Aromas she feels better than she has in the last twenty-four hours. She is still worried, still stressed, but it had been good to talk about it all. Outside perspectives are useful and she understands how badly she needs that.
The house is quiet. It's the weekend so no Gideon and Abner is out, taking various cars on their weekly drive. She frowns, remembering that since she currently can't risk driving, her car is included on his list. For a brief moment she considers marching out to the garage and taking her Mustang for a drive anyway, despite her fears and the possible consequences. A long drive. A fast drive sounds like bliss. She stops herself, however, from climbing out of her giant chair. She is curled up in one of its corners, wrapped in what must be the world's softest blanket, It's cushions act as perfect pillows and she has music playing on her phone. It's not too loud, her Spotify playlist tossing out songs that make her happy. She knows better than to drive and she had already pressed her luck patrolling alone. Whatever the reprieve from the paranoia and panic attacks she knows they can come back at any time. She can't risk it happening while she's wielding a car. Behind the will she would be risking not just her own life.
She wishes Will was home. Kay wants, needs, his nearness, his closeness, his touch. She needs reassurance, his love. Unfortunately he won't be back until late afternoon, hours from now. She could be working. Should be working. There were a few Calligraphy orders coming up and she should really be taking advantage of her current non-shaky hands. Being productive is the logical choice. But she doesn't feel like doing anything but being still.
Kay makes a clicking sound with her tongue and Appa, her large pet spider come skittering across the carpet. He climbs the blanket and settles down next to her. She smiles, petting him before covering him halfway with her blanket. Sitting there she can't help but close her eyes, couldn't help but give into the moment and let sleep claim her. She knows better she lets it happen anyway.
Gasping, Kay comes awake, or at least aware. Someone is tugging on her cloak. “Come on, they NEED you.”
“Who? What?” She reaches back with an armored limb and yanks her long flowing white cloak free. The person stumbles back, landing on their rump. It's a child, a thin and dirty child. She blinks, turning towards him, caught off guard. The little boy looks up at her, his expression a mix of hope and fear. “I'm sorry,” she whispers and kneels next to him. It was surprisingly hard to do but somehow, in her plate armor, she manages not to fall over. Her hand reaches out and he flinches. She frowns and drops her hand, her gaze turning down. With her gauntlet on she can't gently touch his arm, can't through that simple gesture reassure him of his place in the world, reminding him he wasn't alone. She sighs. “I'm sorry,” she says again, this time not whispering.
The boy nods. “What's your name?” she asks him, though she has a niggling feeling that she should already know it. Her assumption seems correct by the obvious confusion on the boy's face.
“Micah, duh.” Kay stands, again with a bit of difficulty, nodding to him then looking around at their surroundings. A village, the kind one might see on television shows and movies. Like those in Vikings, Lord of the Rings, maybe even Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance. It looks strange, though, even wrong. She instantly feels out of place, like she should not be where she is. She questions why she's in armor when she never wears armor. Why is this kid, Micah, the only person she sees. Why is there no other life around, no people or even animals?
“Why don't you go help them? You're supposed to be a hero, a champion.” The boy's words are choppy, punctuated with stops and starts she he cries the messy ugly cry of childhood and sorrow.
“Help who?” Kay looks from him to the empty village.
“THEM!” He yells at her, pointing into the village.
“I don't -see- anyone,” she tries to tell him, though her words come out quiet. “No one.”
Suddenly a blur catches her eye. Someone is moving very quickly through the village. Finally! A moment later she realizes he or she is coming their way. She turns toward and moves to grab the kid but she's too late. The speedster passes her by, snatching up the kid. The pair are gone in the blink of an eye. Kay is left alone, the blur out of sight within seconds, her hand still reaching but now reaching for nothing.
Letting out a frustrated growl and summoning her blades Kay marches into the village, in the direction not that the speedster had gone but the way he'd come. She keeps her eyes peeled for him or anyone else who might want to make in an appearance. So intent in her search it isn't until she is peeking into her fifth house that she realizes she is no longer wearing her armor. Shaking her head she continues on. The boy had said someone needs saving, that she needs to do that saving. A hero. A champion. Whoever it is she is determined to do just that.
Soon she finds herself humming while she searches, the song filling the air with a sense of life it seems to be lacking. “You won't find them.” Kay turns sharply, the song fading from her lips, cut short. Philip, her little brother, stands nearby. Though she can't see his face for the cowl she knows his voice. “Where are they?” she asks, stepping closer to him.
“They don't exist. They don't need saving,” he replies.
“But the boy sai-”
“What boy, Kay? There's no boy here. There is nobody here. Your searching is pointless.” Is that disappointment she hears in his voice? Sorrow, maybe pity?
“I saw him, Philip. He was desperate. He was crying.”
Philip laughs, shaking his hooded head. “You can't listen to every sob story. You can't save everyone. I mean, honestly, you can't even save yourself from him.” His sword appears, summoned into his hand, and he points its tip towards something behind her. Kay turns and there they are. Them. White-Hair. Him and his other half. They stand a good distance away, about ten feet. She steps back. One step. Two steps. Then she stops. They watch her and she watches them. Now would be the perfect time to talk to them. This wasn't the plan but could she do it now? No Will or Rae as backup or Leoone to give her the right words. Philip, though, he was here. He could tether her. Would she need it? She glances over at her brother, now a couple steps ahead of her.
She's about to open her mouth to speak to them when they each step to their own side like sliding doors, leaving a space between them. In that space she sees people, people she knows. Each is on their knees, their hands bound by zipties in front of them. There are rows of people and she recognizes each of them.
Will, her Mom and Dad, Jason and Leoone. Then Kari, Rae, Terri, and Chad. Behind them she sees Zex, Colt, Mojo, Dache, and so many more.
Confused she stares silently at them. Not a single one struggles. None of them speak. “What-” she begins but she's cut off by Philip, who has moved silently to stand beside her and speaks quietly. “What are you, Kay? You're more like those creatures now, like her. Look at you.”
Kay does as he says, looking down. “No,” she whispers. Her hands and arms are no longer what they were, her skin having hardened into an amethyst carapace. How had she not felt it change?
“For you,” says White-Hair, the smaller of the two.
“For me?” she replies. Her head shakes, emphatically rejecting the idea and looking up from inspecting her body's shifting structure. “No. Not for me.” There could be no more deaths or even pain inflicted in her name, for her. Out of the corner of her eye she catches sight of Philip, a flash and sparkle changing his clothes. His hero costume is gone and he's wearing his school clothes. She turns toward him and now she sees his reassuring and sweet, dopey grin. Her mouth opens but before she can speak she is flabbergasted to find Philip walking away from her. But not just away. He walks towards the White-Hair. “Philip?” She says his name, lifting a hand towards him. “What are you doing? Come back here!” Ignoring her words he crosses the distance between the two sides. He only stops when he is standing in front of White-Hair. She stares, dumbfounded, when her brother offers up his hands to be bound.
“Philip?” Confused she watches as he is escorted to one end and kneels. Willingly. She takes a step forward, violently shaking her head. This can't be happening, she tells herself. “Will?” He looks at her, his expression sad and disappointed, pity in his eyes. “Will? Please fight back. You manipulate TIME. Do something. Help me save everybody.” She shakes head no. Deflated she looks at everyone else. “Come on guys. All of you but Dad have powers! Use them!” They all turn to look at her, everyone at the same time. They wear the same expressions, the pity in their eyes fully evident as well.
“You don't remember calling them? Asking each of of them to come here?” Whipping around she finds Lucius standing nearby, a knife held out as an offering in his open palm.
She blinks and shakes her head. “I'd never do that. I'd never ask them to come here, to give up or to surrender.”
He grins, casting her a knowing look. “Oh but you did. Look at yourself. You are radiant, bright and pure. Beautiful. And with Ormuna's songs within you how could they resist?”
“No,” she whispers, “No.”
“Yes, my dear. Most definitely yes,” he tells her. “Come, fulfill your mother's promise.” He offers her the knife again.
Kay pales. “Please don't,” she begs. “Don't ask me to use that.”
“I will, child. I am owed and will do as you are told.” He grabs her hand, her knuckles crusted with small amethysts, and slams the knife's grip her palm before she can close her fingers into a fist.
Tears fall, her cries soft and quiet. Lucius reaches up, wiping away a few of those tears with his free hand. “There is truth in tears aren't there?” he asks her before stepping back. “Now go and begin our war.”
Kay resists as best she can but the geas on her soul, the one that has been there since before her conception, asserts itself. Her hand tightens on the knife, She stands frozen as an internal war is fought inside her. Trembling, sweat forming on her brow, she tries. But it's outside her control. Her legs take her forward, the walk a little zombie like but still functional. “Please, Lucius. Please don't make me do this!” Her words are loud and full of anguish and pain.
“Do as you're told, girl. Their deaths will be on you, yes, but it is a glorious start to something truly wonderful and necessary.” The look he gives her is as a father, proud of his daughter.
Ormuna's voice, her song, fills the air but there is no hope in it. Not in this one. It is sad and leaves Kay feeling empty save her current orders. Nothing, now, is under her own control.
Her stomach twists, knotted. She would double over in pain, curl up in a breakdown if she could, but she can't. All she can do is follow his command. “Save yourselves,” she commands them but it's her voice, not some all powerful being. They don't move, just wait for their end. Tears cascade down her cheeks as she grows closer. “Save each other! You are heroes at heart. Every one of you. Fight because I can't. I CAN'T fight this, can't win! Escape. Protect each other. Protect yourselves from me!”
None of them reply, none answer. Their faces stay stoic and still, their eyes on her. When she reaches them, standing now in front of Will, she glances back at Lucius. He has moved closer, standing with his arms behind him, at ease and watching her. “Why won't they fight back? Why won't they defend themselves or each other?” she asks. The questions are nearly a whisper but she knows he hears her.
“They trust you, Kaydora. What else would leave them vulnerable? Why else would they let you, someone so deadly and corrupted, stay among them? They trust the image, the facade, your false face. They believe wholeheartedly that you love them.”
“I do love them,” she whispers. Her eyes glance at her hand, the one holding the knife. Kay wants to drop it but her hand won't let go, instead gripping tighter. She's losing the battle.
In front of her, Will stands. Their eyes meet, each gazing at the other. The look of pity is gone, replaced by only love. Trust. “Run,” she tells him. “Please, run.” His response, instead, is to lift his chin. “No... oh god no,” she repeats over and over, whimpering.
The hand wielding the knife does its job, does what it's told. It lifts and slides the blade across Will's neck. It's smooth, barely any resistance, as the skin splits and his life's blood sprays out, splattering all over Kay's increasingly crystalline form. Stuck in place, forced to watch, she can't even close her eyes to keep from witnessing the murder. Will's bound hands come up but they are worthless, unable to do anything to combat the wound, his blood flowing through his fingers and coating his hands in red.
She can't take it back. It's done. He's dying. The man she loves, her fiance and lover, is dying before her eyes and she can't even reach out to hold him as he does so. Kay is bound to her mother's bargain, forced to deliver the killing strike. Before his body drops her feet move her sideways, to the next person in line. Jason. He, too, rises and offers his life to her. She does the same to him as she did to Will, his blood becoming a part of the canvas of her current amethyst form.
A spell. Her spell. Ormuna's spell. Something has them under lock and key. None of them resist and it's completely unlike them. Every single person before her would never walk towards their own death, let alone run and offer themselves up on a silver platter.
The next individual lifts her chin. Arasa, Kay's mom. Kay sobs, broken, as her hand reaches out and makes that one simple cut across the woman's neck. Her life ends like that others as Kay steps right, again. One after another she kills them, murders them. Her family and friends. Some are barely acquaintances, people would never obey Kay, people who would did not have faith or trust in her. Like Mike, Limi, Alistair, even Daniel.
Yet each one offers themselves up, a sacrifice to the blade in her hand and Lucius's war. She finishes, the last motion made, and they all lay at her feet. All of them, dead. She turns to survey what she's done and her heart breaks. The ground, greedy, has been soaking up the blood but even the soil can only handle so much. It's made a large pool of the congealing offering. Her hand finally opens. The knife, having fulfilled its purpose, slips from her hand. It makes a solid plop as it lands in what it's brought forth. Kay winces.
“Look at what you've done,” says Lucius, his voice soft in her ear. He stands beside her, tall, calm, eager, and without a stain on his clothes. Kay, on the other hand, is a literal bloody mess. Ormuna's song still fills the air.
“It wasn't me,” she whispers. Her hands shake so she makes fists. “It was you. You did this.”
“It was your hand that wielded the knife, Kaydora. Yes, I guided it but it was you who brought them here. It was in you in whom they placed their trust.”
“No. Some of them. Some of them didn't trust me.”
“Yet they came, did they not?”
Shaking her head her hair, clumped and stuck together because of the blood, moves stiffly with the gesture. She closes her eyes, wanting to forget, not wanting to see the evidence of her betrayal. “Are you done with me?” she asks.
“For now you are theirs.”
Her eyes open and she steps back. White-Hair grins at her, lifting his hand towards her. She starts to back away as if to run and then stops. The slaughter. She has just murdered dozens of people. What did she have to go back to? What had she become. What was she now?
Death. Amethyst. Alone. A tool. Worthless.
So she stands still and lets them come. One touch and who knows where he will send her. Her own death, that is what her cold empty self wants. She wants it all to end. If she had known, if she had had any inkling of the massacre she would bring about then she would have let Lara kill her when she'd wanted to a month ago.
Their lives were easily worth more than her own. If only. His hand touches her shoulder and...
Kay snaps awake, breathing heavily. She blinks and looks around the room unsure for a moment where she is. She knows she must have had a nightmare but she can't remember a single thing.
