A fellow mage student once asked Professor Farnus if it was possible to die in a dream. During a narcomancy training session, the young girl had fearfully expressed her doubts that if something were to go awry, she might end up killing someone by accident. Although narcomancy allowed one to view, and in some cases influence, the dreams of a sleeping individual, Farnus reassured all of us students that it wasn't potent enough to kill. "A dream is a world of intransigence where reality exists but not the one we live in. Think of it as a pocket world where death is meaningless. In a dream, one can play god with all the power that entails." His face darkened. "Though that is no excuse to abuse such power. Even in a dream, pain can feel vivid enough to trick you into thinking it's real. So, no funny business."
Seeing Deotra's father conjure up his bright blue fox fire, I gritted my teeth. I'd say that's vivid enough to feel like real pain. Somehow, I don't think now is a good time to test whether Farnus was right about that not dying business.
"I'm not unreasonable. Turn my daughter back over to me. Then you may walk away. I've no quarrel with you, mage." In spite of his obvious hostility, the weight he placed on his words was reserved for Deotra. "She is not worthy to exist in your sight, much less serve as your familiar. She is a stain on her family and her clan. As her father it is my responsibility to correct this mistake." His lip curled and again I saw his sharp teeth grinding in his mouth.
The dismissive way he talked about his daughter tweaked my last nerve. "Try and take her. I'll skin your pelt and make a new cloak out of it. Knowing what I did to get it will keep me nice and warm once the winter rolls around." Undeterred, he took a step forward, but rage was making me feel bold. I stood my ground. "Push your luck, pops! Bigger and meaner bullies than you tried! I'm still here and they're not, so what does that tell you about your chances?!"
"We need to leave, we can't fight them. They always win. They always win. They ALWAYS win." Deotra actually tried to push into me, encouraging me to turn and run. Her sandaled feet were scrabbling against the stone floor like a dog's paws, and her wounded animal noises were lighting a fire in my belly.
I patted her back, whispering in her ear. "So do I. And I'm not afraid to fight dirtier than they will."
If this is all in my head, then it's no different than a dream. I'm no narcomancer, but I know a thing or two about what happens when a dreamer gains lucidity. Concentrating, I painted a clear picture in my mind of what I needed. Once it took shape, the corresponding object materialized on my belt. Remember not to overdo it. The more I try to forcibly change the dreamscape, the harder it will be. Let's start simple for now. The uncorked glass bottle that had appeared on my belt sloshed with its liquid contents, frost already accumulating on its clear surface.
When Father pointed his slender finger at me, the six balls of fox fire spiraled forward in a corkscrew, a move intentionally designed to thwart a simple shielding spell by curving multiple attacks around the central focus of said spell. A clever trick. Too bad, because at the end of the day a trick is a trick, and you can't beat a trained professional with gimmicks.
Before the first fireball even came close, I flicked my pointer finger away from the Staff of Farewells and the magical implement drew the freezing glacier water I'd willed into existence out of the bottle on my hip. A sheet of glistening white froth sailed into the space between me and the oncoming fireballs. Now that the air was saturated with moisture, I used the Staff of Farewells to supercool the surrounding air to the point of freezing, all the while directing all of the temperature change forward and away from me.
You made the biggest mistake you could've possibly made, buddy. You put me in a situation where I can turn the laws of nature on and off as I please like a cheap gas lamp. Did you really think I wouldn't take that power and abuse it to the fullest? With no laws of thermodynamics to speak of, there was nothing to stop me from elongating and solidifying the expanding wave of cold air into a giant block of ice, thick enough to take all six impacts with no trouble. Even as the impacts of the fireballs caused cracks to form in the block, it was all part of my strategy.
Clenching my fingers into a fist, I expanded the air within the cracks formed to shatter the block, turning my shield into a floating field of jagged ice shrapnel that went hurtling towards my enemies. Father threw up his hands to cover his face and Daelana screamed behind him while she used him as a shield. None of my projectiles drew blood, but where several had embedded themselves in the man's body, blue sparks of weak flame guttered. Wasn't expecting that, but I guess the old adage holds true: if it bleeds, it can be killed.
Bringing my hands in front of me, I clapped my palms together, levitating the Staff of Farewells between them as they parted. Golden sparks ran along the length of the staff, arcing off to my arms. I've always wanted to do this. Maybe in a lucid nightmare, it's possible. As the lightning ran up my body, I molded it into the shape of armor. The bolts solidified into gauntlets, then pauldrons, then a loose-fitting plate that encompassed my upper torso. Directing the rest of it down to cover my legs and knees, the crackling energy seethed and hummed as it took shape around me.
"Hahaha! It works! I'm a genius." The beauty of the magic armor I'd conjured was that it was utterly weightless and easy to move in, since none of the pieces were anchored to me using physical means. When I moved, the armor moved with me, allowing me the full and free range of movement now with the extra protection. I do believe I'm drunk on my own power. Time to do something fun with it. I took a step towards the fox familiars, and they shied away. For the first time since our encounter, Father looked a little scared.
"It's true I'm not the best mage out there. I'm not a great guy, I'm no paragon of virtue and there are days when I don't even think it's worth the energy to get out of bed. I've got blood on my hands, not all of it was necessary, and not much of it bothers me. I could've picked any other familiar in the world, probably. But I didn't." I turned Deotra around gently, still keeping her close to me. "I chose her. I made the choice of my own free will, and I'm not changing my mind."
The ruby at the end of the staff glimmered ominously as I pointed it straight at Father. "I don't give a flying fuck what you think of your daughter. She's never done anything but her best in my eyes. She's shown me that she can be brave when she needs to be. She believes in me even when I can't believe in myself. She's so much stronger than you give her credit for." Lightning hissed into being around the ruby, the steady thrum of intensifying voltage vibrating the air around it. "She doesn't need you and never did. She's got me now, and I'll never treat her the way you did."
A bolt of roaring light shot out of the staff and sliced through the air, hitting Father right in his chest. He sank to his knees as electricity danced across his body, scorching his robe and burning his skin. More blue fire spurted from the wounds, and he let loose a distorted howl of pain that became more monstrous the longer it lasted. His face twisted and writhed until it was like a painter's idea of a bad joke, eyes sliding downward even as the mouth widened like a tearing wound.
"He can't hurt you anymore, Deotra!" I nudged her to get her to open her eyes. "He isn't even really your father. Burundus can dredge up whatever he wants, dig up all the painful memories but he can't make them real. I know you know that deep down." Her breathing slowed as the thing that was her father began to degrade back into a pool of black slime. "Burundus isn't your family. He's just a fat parrot sitting on his little perch thinking he can hurt us with the voices in our heads."
I thought we were finally getting the upper hand when Father's form finally collapsed, but instead a blur of motion caught my eye. Daelana went from cowering behind her shield to leaping out at me at an angle, her body morphing into an enormous fox. The sheer speed of her transformation didn't give me time to adjust my aim, and she swiped a massive paw tipped with razor sharp claws at my head. Before I could even comprehend how screwed I was, a blue flash went off in front of me and Deotra leapt up to meet her.
She was already in her own fox form by the time she intercepted Daelana. Bashing into her older sister's larger body, she carried her off into the distance, landing in a screaming, yowling pile somewhere past Father. The two found their feet and went about savaging each other with teeth and claws, blue flames wreathing their bodies as they both sought an opening. Daelana opened her jaws and went straight for Deotra's neck, but the smaller fox rolled to the side and lashed her flame-infused tail across the older fox's face.
Years of repressed feelings came surging to the front of our link as she struck her sister, each hit punctuated by a burning rage that rivaled even Alicia's. Beneath that was catharsis; at long last, even if not under the most ideal circumstances, Deotra was finally unburdening herself of something she'd carried around for far too long.
When this is over, hopefully she'll tell me more. She's carried me this far, and I want a turn to do that for her, too. The flailing, melting arms of Father tried to fling globules of black slime at me, but I stepped to the side. I concentrated more power into my staff, then did something a little cheeky; I took some of that adrenaline I was riding and aimed at Daelana instead.
She was mid-leap when the bolt slammed into her body, immediately halting her attack and sending her rolling across the muck-covered ground. My bolt had burned straight through her, leaving a disgusting hole dripping with black slime in the middle of her torso. There were no innards to speak of, just a void that was already trying to fill itself back in, working around the singed edges where the bolt had connected.
Deotra didn't even give her a chance. Pouncing on her wounded opponent, she pinned her head down with her paw and then tore her throat out. Black blood and blue fire sprayed out of the gash, forcing her to let go and retreat. The monster let out a gargling death rattle as it dissolved, the body losing color and form as it became a puddle of inert slime.
"Grraarrrggghhhh," the pathetic facsimile of Deotra's father gurgled as it struggled to reform itself. The face was trying to make sense of itself again, eyes and mouth returning to their normal places but still looking hideously wrong. "Not… not good enough. Never good enough. You'll never be good enough. Worthless creature. Ungrateful wretch." Its voice became clearer, more like the sniveling tone he had spoken in before. "I never should've put up with you. The moment your mother left you with me I should've cast you out of my house."
I scowled down at him, then motioned Deotra over. As she ambled over to me, she transmogrified back into her humanoid form. Her eyes were haunted and sharp, but also filled with clear purpose. I pointed at the blob. "Care to do the honors?"
Deotra glared down at the pitiful creature pretending to be her father with utter contempt. There were tears forming at the edges of her eyes, but she was doing a remarkable job of holding herself together via sheer will. Her emotions were a hurricane of conflicting thoughts and feelings, some old and partially healed like scars while others ached like they were fresh. Her father's face reformed enough to sneer at her.
"Well? Don't you have anything to say to your father? Don't you want to know why I said the things I did? Why I treated you that way? Aren't you curious? Say something!" It spat at us, vile brackish fluid seeping from the corners of its mouth.
Calmly, Deotra lifted her palm, and a ball of baleful blue fox fire swirled into being. "No. I don't. I didn't need to ask because I didn't need to know why." The fireball swelled as it drew in more power, until it was bigger than my head. The way the light played off her eyes made me shiver, like there was no life in them.
A torrent of blue fire raced out of her open palm, like the breath of a dragon, razing the ground and drenching the parody of her father in searing radiant death. Even its scream was drowned out by the sound of the fire.
When the fire finally stopped, there was a rut in the ground stretching fifteen feet past where the blob once stood, the ground charred black and the slime evaporated. Deotra stood with her palm still held out, her body shuddering, breathing shallow and rapid. I moved to embrace her before she could collapse. She cried into my chest.
"It's over. He's gone. I'm here." I repeated it like a mantra, stroking the top of her head. Her delicate hands gripped the front of my robe tight. "I'm not going anywhere. Just let it all out. I've got you." My eyes scanned the surroundings warily, but no blobs or monsters shambled out of the dark. For the moment, Burundus seemed content to give us a breather.
In the distance, the golden streak grew closer. "Drache is almost here. We did it, Deotra. I'm so proud of you." For the first time since the ordeal had begun, her emotions settled, the roiling sea of burning anger finally calming to the point where she lifted her face to look at me. Her eyes were already red, face messy with the smeared trails of her tears. I let the hand that had stroked her hair slide down to cup her cheek. "You did it. You stood up for yourself."
She sniffled. "When this is all over, can we talk about it? I want you to know everything. I think with your help I can finally get over this." I planted a kiss on her forehead.
"Absolutely. You can tell me everything." Relief shot through her via our connection, like the warmth of dawn's sunlight cresting the horizon to chase away the night. Nodding her head, she stood up with me.
When we were both upright, the scenery around us changed. Shrines twisted into columns made of marble. The stone floor became the blackened volcanic rock of a strangely familiar palace. The cherry blossom tree morphed into a towering orrery with planets revolving around a sun that flickered like a magically projected image. My heart nearly fell into my stomach when I realized what was going on.
Burundus is reshaping his nightmarescape for his next attack. This is the palace from Drache's memory, the one she showed me before. Tapestries depicting majestic dragons in flight spun themselves into existence, knitting into being as if out of invisible thread. Blood red carpets stretched out beneath me as walls formed from the ground, stained glass windows reverse-fragmented into place around said walls and a throne sprang up from the oozing black muck.
Oh no. I know who we're going to face. The ooze stretched into a gown, crimson with gold weave, reaching up like an army of ants standing atop each other to climb to impossible heights. "Drache! Don't come here! It's a trick! Burundus is bringing your mother's image to life here!" I sent my urgent warning through our bond, but instead of turning away, Drache's aura sped up, as if my words had the opposite effect.
As the body of Evros took shape on her throne, I pulled Deotra back away from it. She was flabbergasted, so shocked by what she was seeing that she didn't move right away. Only after she was in danger of losing her balance did she finally take a hesitant step. "Is that who I think it is?" She said, still not fully believing her eyes.
"Yes, and that means we need to get back! Hurry!" Aiming the Staff of Farewells squarely at the mass of slime that was now almost up to the shoulders, forming into arms that rested on the sides of the throne, I took up a position maybe thirty feet away. The throne room had taken on as much detail as Burundus could muster, walls measuring forty feet on all sides with columns dispersed at more or less even intervals on our flanks. Burundus was almost done setting his stage for his final act, and we were the players.
Atop her extravagant throne, Evros' body solidified. Her crimson dress was laden with gold in the form of countless ornaments. A long diagonal sash hung over her left shoulder and crossed to her right hip, and bore a large, circular crest made of gleaming brass depicting a dragon with wings curled around its body beneath an embossed crown. A similar sash encircled her waist, and from it dangled dozens of small golden chains with magical trinkets on the ends. Each trinket was wrought of simple metal but even I could sense the power stored in each one. They emanated raw but thoroughly contained power, each one capable of amplifying their wielder's power for short bursts of enhanced ability.
When her arms came into focus, I felt a gnawing in my stomach. Both of her wrists were adorned with solid gold armlets with four individual nullification runes set into each one, meaning she had eight total chances to simply stop my magic cold. No, don't lose your nerve. Remember that this isn't really her. All of this is some sick dream that just won't end. Despite my nerve, I couldn't quite convince my trembling legs that Burundus was just trying to scare me.
The disgusting pile of slime that billowed out to create Evros' head was the last piece to fall into place, revealing a much uglier woman than the one I remembered from Drache's shared vision. Instead, she looked more like a hag from a child's nightmare. Her tanned skin was covered in black blemishes and stretched so thin I could see the bones underneath. Her cheeks were gaunt and her eyes were sunken, making her face look skull-like. The teeth in her mouth were yellowed and crooked, stained with plaque and bleeding from inflamed gums. Her long hair was not blonde but a dirty tallow like melted candle wax. When she brandished the golden scepter in her right hand, the fingers cracked so loudly I almost thought they were going to snap right off. Just about the only thing about Evros that looked lively were her eyes. They glowed in their dark sockets, blood red moons peering out of a messy curtain of fraying hair.
"Ehehehehe," she rasped, her laughter sounding like a thousand rusty door hinges swinging all at once. "Where is my daughter? Where is that velenskir filth? Such a horrid daughter, not coming when her mother calls. Come closer, children, so I can see you. My eyes aren't what they used to be!" She smiled, and that image scared me more than anything else had in recent memory. There was something deeply unnerving about her comment, especially when I could see that her eyes had pupils that no longer matched that of a normal human's.
"No! Don't look! There's nothing but madness in there." Deotra's hand wrapped around my eyes and pulled me back.Breaking eye contact with the apparition of Evros was a shock to the system, one I needed; all my joints and muscles loosened, and I let my familiar drag me away.
"Such naughty children! No wonder your parents looked down on you. I ask one simple thing and you can't even manage that." Her voice cut my ears like a rusty dagger but I wasn't going back over to where she was.
After a few more steps, Deotra pulled her hand away. We were a fair distance back from the throne now, almost fifty feet away. Evros' eyes were so small that I couldn't look into them again, but just to be safe I readied myself to repel a magical compulsion attempt. Fortify the mind, weave the layers. Drape yourself in curtains of light, keep the darkness out. The familiarity of the incantation I'd learned in my childhood was almost as reassuring as the effect of an invisible blanket wrapping itself around my brain, ready to deter her if she tried to coerce me again.
Behind us, the howling of Drache's imminent arrival filled me with strength. Soon it'll be all of us against him. Whatever Drache's demons are, we'll face them together. I interlaced my fingers in my familiar's hand, squeezing her for assurance. Beside me, her left hand curled and a ball of blue fire erupted out of the gloom.
"Together," she said, echoing my thought and sentiment.
"Yes. Together…" Evros said on her throne, her head tilting like a monstrous bird's. She looked like a diseased vulture eying one last meal before her own death. Cracks and snaps from beneath her dress accompanied her rising to her feet, the bones crying out in protests with every movement. Finally, she stood as far upright as she could manage, leaning heavily on her scepter. Above us, the black void became open sky, mirroring the hole she had created the day she began the War of the Five Kings. Screams and whispers of eldritch monstrosities emanated from it, promising doom upon all the world.
"Together. We will all go together." She held her arm up to the wound in the sky, her jaw opened to let loose her howls of glee. "Into the long, unending darkness. We will all go together."
Then a shaft of light appeared before me. Something hit the ground in front of me like a shooting star falling from heaven. Gouts of red fire washed out from the point of impact, wreathing the tall, imposing figure of Drache. Her arms were away from her sides, palms out, as if warding against any attack made against us. Standing between us and her mother, Drache radiated light and flame like an angel descended, ready to cast down the wicked.
"No, Mother. Not then, not today, not ever. When the dark comes for us, we'll go alone as was always intended." She twisted her right wrist, and her fingers tightened around the form of a weapon that came into being in her hand. To my shock, it was the Hand of the Usurper.
"I won't have it any other way."