Chapter Text
The spirits were restless; their chittering excitement nudging against the edges of Eadalas’ consciousness. Rising to her feet, she looked out to the farthest corners of her dream, peering into the blinding light that shone over the steadily waving plains. Behind her lay the swirling sea of darkness that marked the edge of the Abyss; a stark contrast against the bright hues of yellow, red, blue, and green that she had so lovingly used to furnish her creation.
Eadalas stumbled as the ground shifted beneath her feet. Righting herself, she peered over her shoulder into the darkness behind her; something was amiss. Listening hard, she heard the rumbling crash of mountains falling, the wailing cries of the souls of lost dreamers being hunted by demons, and the screams of carrion birds as they sought their prey. She could hear the very essence of evil crackling, striking like lightning out from the very core of the deep.
“He is coming!” snickered the wisps, and then they disappeared into the darkness, giggling like children.
They were right…something was coming, she could feel it peeling away at her mind. Layer by layer, it pulled, coming closer and closer to finding her. This was not the passing of a wandering dreamer, Eadalas mused, a sudden choking fear possessing her and causing the artificial sunlight to dim and almost flicker out. This was a rare magic, to alter the fade and encroach upon other’s dreams; a magic she had believed was limited only to herself. Steeling her mind against the intruder, she thought of how this was possible. It must be the work of someone powerful, she assumed, a lord among the mightiest of mages to have such a rare ability.
Frightened, she called out to the darkness: “who is coming?”, hoping that the spirits and wisps hadn’t all fled in their excitement. “Who is it?”
“Fen'harel…Fen’harel…Fen’harel…”
It was the wisps again who answered. They rushed about sporadically, flocking from place to place like birds from tree to tree. Eadalas watched them, intrigued by their reaction. She had heard many tales of this “Fen’harel” though she had never seen him herself. He was said to be one of her own; kin by reputation to the Forgotten Ones, though he ruled mighty among the Evanuris. No doubt he had been raised to fame only to become fat and lazy on the backs of the thousands of worshippers at his righteous disposal.
That made her laugh, the sound carrying out across the plains only to drown in the velvet black of the void. This Fen’harel may be mighty in Arlathan, may be considered kin to her people, but here she was Lord and Master; the only one she knew who was able to bend and twist the dreamworld at her whim. As though to prove her point, Eadalas raised her hand to the sky and clenched it into a fist, causing the remaining sunlight she had created to burst into flame. Bits of it fell, floating and landing softly like burnt parchment.
There was a sudden wailing from the Abyss behind her, and Eadalas clamped her hands over her ears. She had done too much, had shown too much, and they had seen. Turning to face the void, she peered down into the inky mists and watched as several dreamers stumbled blindly in the dark. Her throat constricted as she heard them calling out to her, cursing her and begging for escape. The selfish part of her wanted to remind them that they had come to her; that she had just wanted to hear their stories of life beyond the abyss and to watch their dreams, but she knew deep down that it was she who had been foolish…and now they were lost forever.
Eadalas felt her heart twist in grief, and she reached out unthinkingly to help them. As soon as she made contact with the void, an icy pain lanced up her arm and through her entire body. She retracted her hand quickly and held it to her chest. Even as powerful as she was here, she was unable to help them, those poor souls, and thus they had become the unwitting victims of her own selfish greed. The dreamers cries eventually became muffled as they moved on, and Eadalas had to hold in her breath to keep herself from crying.
With a shaky sigh, Eadalas turned back to look at the delicately colored expanse of her dream. The wisps were all but dispersed now, leaving only a few who wandered about, confused by the loss of their comrades. They whispered urgently across the plains, their voices shrill and bright.
“He is coming, Fen’harel approaches! He is coming, he is coming!”
“Let him come” Eadalas responded confidently, completely unaware of the wolfish shadow that silently wandered the dark edges of the fade in the distance.