It was another hot summer night, with sweltering heat reaching into the depths of night. It was going to be another sweat-soaked uneasy sleep for many - and not just because of the temperatures. In their sleep, people would be tossing and turning, their tumultuous fever dreams spawning far more nightmares than would be normal. Those who couldn't give in to the sweet relief of repose would instead stay up, tuning to the mysterious new radio talk show, "Soul Train".

One such person was not feeling like sleep at all. The adrenaline pumping in his veins were all he needed, his face calm and focused, if a bit intense. His room was barely lit; enough for him to navigate across the room and make out certain objects, not enough to draw attention at this unnatural hour. Upon his pillow was a gold-and-white mask from a popular [i]sentai[/i] show, by his bed was a sheathed sword, a gift from a Ren Faire he used to work at.

Reaching for the small handheld radio on the small table next to the bed, he put the earbuds in, and tuned in to listen, his eyes glittering intensely as he listened.

When did this all begin? Staying up late, listening to some weird radio station at the dead of night, taking in the strange and unnatural stories... it was probably just mere weeks since he awoke to this world of shadows and mystery, but it felt like yesterday, the memory of that horrid dream ringing in his mind as though he had it moments ago...

[quote=The Nightmare]He was running. Where was he running to? Or rather, what was he running [i]from?[/i] As the world twisted and turned around him, shadows and darkness passing over everything and twisting familiar forms into horrid abominations...

[center][b][i]"I am Thou..."[/i][/b][/center]

A train comes in from nowhere, sliding to a halt in front of him, the doors open to a dark blue interior. Stepping in, he feels like the carriage stretches forever.

The train starts, but instead of the expected lurch he finds himself pulled in inexorably along with the train. Like some intense destiny was drawing him to an inevitable path. The train passes through a tunnel, and just as quickly, the sense of gravity disappears, and he finds himself once more on open ground.

[center][b][i]"...and Thou art I..."[/i][/b][/center]

The shadows, which shift uneasily around him, mutate and transform into dark creatures, black blobs with unnatural masks, or creatures from myth, both great and small. Their eeries moans and cries fill the world around him as he realizes he is trapped. They turn to see him, and start closing in. There is no where to run. And he realizes he is all alone.

In desperation, he starts swatting them aside, hitting them with his fists, his open palm, kicking wildly, all to no avail. The react as though he was slapping him with a feather, and reach out to him. He tries to scream a cry of terror that would not leave his throat, leaving him voiceless as the things bury him under their combined, writhing mass.

[center][b][i]"From the Sea of Thy Soul, I come..."[/i][/b][/center]

And suddenly, where there was darkness, there was light. Fire and heat filled his vision, and he felt his flesh being struck with a heat like a thousand furnaces. Fire and light so intense they could vaporize steel, but he felt disproportionately little pain.

All he saw before he woke up was the mask of a man wreathed in fire, its eyeholes burning into his soul with an intense light...[/quote]
When he had woken up, he had felt sick. He had hoped it was not a fever; it was far too busy a time for him to fall sick. He had been relieved when the nausea and dizziness wore off after a few days.

In retrospect, a fever would have at least been a rational explanation. He felt... changed, somehow. Like somehow his eyes had been opened to a different universe.

Shortly thereafter, came the Nightmares, and the hunts, and the long nights patrolling the city. It was overwhelming and draining, but something in him was calling out for more, his sense of adventure drinking in the experience.

So there he was, listening to the radio, hoping that his sister would be asleep so she wouldn't notice he was up late.

He strains his ears, reaching the sword beside the bed, feeling an strange, bubbling sensation in the hollow of his chest; a combination of anxiety and readiness.