315 Dark Inheritance (Part 1)
The battlefield stretched beyond the horizon, a wasteland of shattered earth and broken bodies. The sky churned with clouds the colour of dried blood as stone-sized pieces of hail lashed at the distant warriors. Mountains had crumbled, rivers boiled into nothing, and the scent of decay and scorched meat carried on the wind.
Ania knew she was dreaming. She knew because she had been here before, not in this exact place, but in the nightmares that had haunted her since childhood. But this one felt different. More vivid. More real.
She stood alone in the middle of the battlefield, clad in battle-worn armour. Her spear was slick with ichor, the unnatural black fluid that dripped from the things she had slain. Her shattered shield, held loosely in her grip, was barely more than a broken frame. Her body ached, her breath came in ragged gasps, and every nerve in her being screamed at her to run.
Something moved in the distance. A shadow in the storm. A tall figure draped in darkness emerged. His form was wreathed in tattered silk, strands of void-black material shifting like the tendrils of a living thing. His eyes were endless pools of the abyss. Devoid of light, but filled with hunger.
He spoke, his voice as smooth as a mother’s lullaby. “Little warrior… You should not be here.”
Ania stiffened. She knew instinctively that this was no ordinary nightmare, no construct of her mind’s fears. He was something else. ‘He looks confused like I am.’
She tightened her grip on her spear, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “Who are you?”
The figure tilted his head, considering her as though she were some fascinating insect that had wandered into his web. “You already know my name, though you do not wish to speak it. The elves whisper of me in hushed prayers and terrified gasps. I am Vortharu, the Darkest Dream… the Keeper of Silent Screams.”
The name sent a shudder down her spine. Vortharu. The Dark Elf God of Nightmares. He was no myth. No mere legend to frighten children. He was an old God. One of the Fallen. And she was in his domain.
She swallowed, steeling herself. “What do you want?”
Vortharu stepped forward as an insidious grin appeared on his face. “I want nothing. I merely observe the past. It is you who has stepped into my web, little mortal.”
Ania refused to step back. She would not show fear. “Then let me leave.”
A dark and knowing chuckle escaped Vortharu’s lips. “Oh, but why would I do that? You are far more interesting to keep around. And besides… you are not the only one in this dream.”
Before she could react, the world around her twisted. The battlefield cracked apart, revealing a deeper layer of horror beneath.
Screams filled the air. Not the dying cries of warriors, but something worse.
She turned and saw them. The Fallen. Twisted things, once gods and mortals alike, are now little more than living monsters. Their forms were grotesque mockeries of the human form. Their limbs stretched too far, faces warped beyond recognition, mouths split open in eternal howls of agony. They swarmed across the land like locusts, devouring all in their path.
In the heart of it all stood a lone figure, radiant amidst the carnage.
Allevia. Her presence was a beacon in the nightmare, her golden light flickering but unyielding. She stood atop a crumbling hill, a staff of living wood in her grasp and her emerald armour dented and cracked. Around her, the last of her warriors fought, their bodies glowing with the last embers of her divine protection.
Ania’s breath caught in her throat. She had heard stories of Allevia’s stand against the Fallen, how she had held back the tide for days without rest. How she had burned herself to embers to keep the light of hope alive. ‘This is the war of the Fallen. The battle that had shaped the world I know.’
Vortharu’s voice coiled around her like a serpent. “Do you see it now? The folly of your gods? They fight, they burn, they die. And for what? To be forgotten? To be replaced?”
Ania tore her gaze away from the battle and glared at him. “You show me this for a reason. What do you want me to see?”
Vortharu smiled. “I want you to understand. You are nothing but dust in the wind. A parasite that must be cleansed so we can live in Freedom! Why must we fight each other? Why do our brothers and sisters protect you? You do not care for your Gods. You use them. Just as you used her.”
Ania felt the rage build within her. “You’re wrong. Exile…”
“…Is just another piece on the board.” Vortharu’s voice was almost gentle. “Will your people remember him if he survives this war? When your new Gods have moved on to new wars, new worlds, new people to save? They are a means to your end.”
Ania clenched her jaw. She refused to believe it. Exile had saved her. He had come for her at her darkest moment. He wasn’t like Vortharu. He wasn’t a monster lurking in the shadows, feeding on the fears of mortals. He was worth remembering even if one day he was gone.
Vortharu stepped closer until he loomed over her like a giant. “I offer you the truth, Ania. No lies, no illusions. Serve me, and I will show you the path beyond this nightmare. Refuse, and you will join the forgotten dead.”
A pulse of darkness spread from his form, and the battlefield around them cracked further. The Fallen surged forward, reaching for Allevia, their clawed hands grasping for her light. She screamed, her power flaring, but Ania could see it… she was losing. She was dying. Just as the stories said she would.
Something inside Ania snapped. She raised her shattered shield and took a step forward. “I am not like you. I will never be like you.”
Vortharu exhaled through his nose, a sound almost like disappointment. “Pity.”
Then, the nightmare descended.
The shadows rose, swallowing her whole, dragging her into an abyss of clawing hands and whispering voices. The screams of the dying gods filled her ears. She fell, deeper and deeper, into the void of forgotten dreams.
And then…
A hand grasped hers. It was warm and steady.
A golden light flared in the darkness, and Ania gasped as she was pulled back from the abyss. The shadows recoiled, hissing, as Allevia’s presence surrounded her.
The goddess’s voice was soft but firm. “Hold on, my Oracle. Your fight is not over.”
Ania clung to her, the warmth of the goddess’s presence burning away the last remnants of the nightmare. Vortharu’s laughter echoed around them, distant but watching. Always watching.
As the battlefield faded, as the nightmare unravelled, Ania heard his final whisper in her mind.
“You will return to me, little warrior. Sooner or later… all dreams come to an end.”
“Ania!”
“Wha…”
“Damn, that took more out of me than I thought.” Winter groaned as she pulled the woman out of her nightmare and sheltered her inside her fortress.
“Where… am I?”
“I had to make this fortress inside a dream and pull you in. I’ve been trying to wake the three of you up.”
“Then… I’m still dreaming?”
“Yes, but I’m really here. Exile sent me. The only problem is, I have no idea how to pull you fully out. I found the three of you curled up in the hollow of some tree roots.”
“What about Bjorn? And Allyce?”
“They… have been harder to track down inside the nightmares. Their fears are so great that it’s strengthening the nightmares’ hold on them. I can’t imagine what they’re going through.”
“How do we save them?”
“Have patience, I’ll find them sooner or later.”
Ania noticed the look of doubt that briefly flashed across the face of the Goddess. ‘I hope that’s true. If they’re trapped with that monster, I’m not sure how long they can hold out for.’
Winter studied Ania’s expression and nodded with contentment. ‘That’s one down, but the others… What the hell am I facing? I could swear that it let me take her. But why?’
No matter how she thought about it, she couldn’t come up with a good enough reason. ‘Is the inheritance testing me?’ That would sense if it was trying to find someone to take control of the legacy it held. But… Winter was unsure if that was what was really going on here. Where was the ghost of the dead God? The one who should have appeared before her? Or had she not proven herself enough to meet with it yet? She couldn’t help but feel frustrated.
“You… have to help them,” Ania whispered. “Vortharu… he has them. They’ll die without your help!”
“Vor… tharu?” Winter questioned as she struggled with pronouncing the name. “Who is he?”
“The Dark Elf God of Nightmares. He’s one of the Fallen! We don’t have any time!”
Winter frowned at Ania’s revelation. ‘The Fallen are gone though, right? That’s what Exile and Mikari said. And why would one of them leave behind an Inheritance? That doesn’t make any sense.’ Winter even began to wonder if she should focus on waking Ania up before diving back in to save the others. ‘The nightmares have clearly taken a toll on her. Maybe she was led to believe something else from what’s going on here. At least, I hope that’s the case.’
She shook her head as she turned to Allyce before placing her palm on her forehead. ‘Ok, let’s try you again…’