[center][h3][i]a dream[/i][/h3][/center]

A strong wind was howling through the trees outside. Gregor could see the branches swaying and bowing to the force of Kynareth’s breath, but he heard nothing through the uneven, rippling windows to their bedroom. He looked down to find himself sitting on the edge of the bed and his eyes traced the lines of the stitchings in the fabric of the bedsheets, which were as blue as an early summer morning sky. It was her favorite color. He remembered now. It had seemed so long ago… but here he was again. He took a deep breath and enjoyed the subtle fragrance of flowers in the air. There was a fresh bouquet on his nightstand. 

“Did you sleep well?” a woman’s voice asked from behind him. Gregor turned his head and rolled over on his side until he was face to face with her. She smiled at him and her nose crinkled and a lock of black hair spilled over her face before it was quickly tucked away behind her ear. 

“Yes,” Gregor said, and he could hear that his voice was soft and tender and full of love. “I had a dream, of foreign lands and strange people, and it felt [i]so real…”[/i]

She touched his face, the slightest brush of her fingers against his cheek. “I’m glad it was just a dream. I trust you’re not planning on going somewhere?” she asked and looked up at him with teasing eyes in which the sea went on forever. 

He chuckled and shook his head. “No. There is nowhere I’d rather be than here with you, my love.” 

And he felt that it was true. 

The world fell out from beneath him and he fell too, a thousand yards and more, until he landed roughly on the dead leaves and splintered branches of the ground. Fear shot through his limbs like a surge of electricity and he scrambled to his feet, disoriented and dizzy, until his eyes focused on his surroundings and the pulses of his heart ceased to gallop in his ears. He was dressed in his armor and he was old again -- he could feel the weight of his age and of the past decade pressing down on him; a physical presence that had made its perch on his shoulders and refused to ever take wing. 

He was in the dark forest again. The trees had grown so tightly together that he could barely see more than thirty feet in either direction and the night air was thick and heavy with anticipation. Gregor’s mouth fell open and his eyes went wide as his gaze followed one of the tree trunks up and into the canopy. Something, some creature, had left slash marks in the bark as high up as a house, and the branches had been forcefully ripped off. A small sound behind him made him whirl around on the spot and draw his claymore. 

Suspended twenty feet above the ground, impaled on the broken branches, hung Briar’s corpse. Her guts dangled beneath her like a macabre rope. 

“Why did you leave me?” it asked through split lips and shattered teeth. 

Gregor wanted to speak, to explain, but he couldn’t. He opened his mouth and no sound came out. 

That’s when he saw it. Behind her, behind the tree: a shape, looming, towering, ancient and vast. Darkness clung to it like a cloak. Gregor backed away, unsteady feet seeking sanctuary behind him, while his mind refused to work. He could only stare. 

It moved. The tree snapped like a twig and smashed down into the forest floor, flinging Briar hard against the ground where she scattered into three pieces and none of them looked like a human anymore. Gregor turned tail and ran, terrified of the thunderous roar of the creature and the heavy hoofbeats of its pursuit. A terrible urge to look over his shoulder threatened to overtake him but he resisted. He did not want to see it. He ran, zigzagging between the trees, searching desperately for a way out, some sign of the way out, or a light, but there were none. He could hear more trees being splintered and destroyed, and it roared again -- a terrible, overwhelming sound that he could [i]feel[/i] in every fiber of his being. It was getting closer. It was so large. 

He tripped and fell and before he even had a chance to get back on his feet, it was upon him. Gregor groaned in pain as two massive hooves pressed into his shoulder blades and pinned him to the ground. 

“Gregor,” it muttered, its voice warped and shuddering. Two hands, black as soot and impossibly long, appeared on either side of him and grabbed his head. 

Gregor screamed.