Femi trailed behind the radiant figure; his small rat form dwarfed by her luminous presence. For some reason, her blinding brilliance had diminished to a level where he could now make out the outline of her body, which was simply a silhouette of impossible grace and form. She was definitely a well-proportioned person to say the least, with curves that flowed like river currents and a posture that spoke of confidence.
Even though he could now look upon her without his eyes bleeding, he still did his best to avoid direct eye contact, as even a brief accidental gaze sent a dull, throbbing ache pulsing through the bones of his skull.
Just another reminder that he was in the presence of something….
Dangerous.
As he walked by her side, his claws made soft clicking sounds that echoed off the dark, seemingly infinite space of the pathway. The architecture defied logic, there were no visible supports, no ceiling, only darkness that stretched upward into nothingness.
Yet the floor beneath his feet was a brilliant, polished white that seemed to generate its own light, creating a contrast to the shadows that seemed to swallow everything else. They walked in silence for what felt like an eternity, the only sound being the soft, almost musical rustle of Melin's…. garments.
Finally, Femi couldn't bear the heavy, silence any longer.
"Where are we?" he asked, as his voice echoed strangely in the vast space. Multiplying and returning to him from a dozen different directions.
The question hanged in the air between them.
Melin didn't respond immediately, continuing her graceful glide forward. Femi wondered if she had even heard him. But then she stopped so abruptly that he nearly collided with her shimmering form. She turned to face him, a mischievous glint in her multicolored shifting eyes.
"Where do you think we are?" she asked in a tone dripping with amusement.
Femi thought for a long moment, his whiskers twitching as he considered the strange, frantic events that had brought him here.
"I believe I'm in hell," he said finally, his voice laced with a simple, weary acceptance rather than fear.
"The last thing I remember is being killed, and at this point, it's becoming too normal."
He sighed, " I can see my enemies are really gunning for my death," he began contemplating all his strig of bad luck.
"My village people aren't normal village people." He shook his head, a bitter chuckle escaping him. "To be able to kill me twice, truly they are not normal."
The silence returned.
Until, Melin burst out laughing, the light around her pulsed and flared with her mirth. The sudden, violent intensity caused Femi to flinch and shield his eyes as a fresh, stabbing wave of headache pain shot through his temples from the inadvertent direct look.
"So, you think you're dead?" she asked still chuckling with an amusement that seemed to feed on his confusion.
Femi nodded slowly, unsure of what else to say.
"Am I not?" his voice tentative as he rubbed his throbbing head with a clawed hand, the rough pads soothing the phantom ache.
Melin's chuckle faltered for a moment, her luminous features becoming strangely solemn. This sudden change in mood caused the light around her to dim into a soft glow before she responded.
"Well, we won't say you're dead…. but we can't say you're living either." She gestured around them at the impossible space.
"This place is... the land in-between. There are many names for it, but I'll use one that's easier for a mind like yours to grasp."
As she spoke, her figure began to glow even brighter again, forcing Femi to look away to avoid being blinded. Melin continued, her voice seeming to weave through the very fabric of this place, becoming one with the flow of reality around them.
"We are currently, in your mare, Femi..." The words echoed as if spoken from multiple directions at once.
"...this is the place where I'll tell you a story."
"A story?" Femi repeated, his curiosity piqued despite his fear and confusion. The concept seemed both absurd and strangely compelling in this mad place.
Melin nodded, a mysterious smile spreading across her face that made the light around her dance and shifted in captivating patterns.
"Yes, Femi. A story."
------
The air was thick with tension, as Varga glowered at Tarlak, her brows scrunched together in anger, though a faint undercurrent of worry colored her voice.
"What?"
Tarlak met her gaze, his own features grim.
"Kug's body is missing. I remembered seeing the Harpy queen sending the upper part of his body out the wooden walls but now when we went to collect it was missing, leaving only a trail of blood. I believe something dragged the body away."
After her briefly checking on Femi's health, Varga had followed Tarlak and another scout outside the camp. They now stood at a spot just in front of the camp's main gate, where the tree line began its encroachment. Instead of the remains of a fallen warrior, they found just a dark, congealing patch of blood on the snow, with a dragged trail that vanished into the dense undergrowth after only a few feet.
"I really don't like this," Tarlak muttered, his eyes scanning the disturbed snow with an uneasy gaze.
"Who would?" Varga replied with a grunt, crossing her arms over her chest.
"True, but what I meant is that it's one thing for something to scavenge a corpse, but it's another thing entirely for something to do it while leaving absolutely no tracks of its own," he elaborated, pointing his thick finger at the ground. "Instead, we have two sets of prints leading toward the camp. I can make out that one belongs to a wolf pup and the other..."
"Belongs to the ratling," the scout finished bluntly.
Varga's head snapped towards them, her glare intensifying at the implications. "What are you trying to say?" she demanded, her voice dangerously low.
"Peace, Varga," Tarlak said, holding up a placating hand. "The tracks lead inward. We know it's not Warrior Femi. This must have happened when he returned from retrieving his snarls. He saw the attack and ran to aid us. No one here doubts his honor or his bravery." He turned a stern gaze on the scout.
"The ratling lies injured right now, after fighting to defend our camp. I hope you aren't suggesting he is the cause."
"I merely stated what I observe," the scout replied evenly. "I offer no accusations."
Varga held his gaze for a long moment before nodding curtly. She crouched by the bloodstain, left by the missing body, her keen eyes searching for any clue the others might have missed.
"I wonder if Femi could have smelt something?" Tarlak shared his thoughts aloud, breaking the tense silence.
"Maybe one of the Harpies took the body," the scout offered a more conventional theory.
"Unlikely," Tarlak countered while shaking his head. "A harpy isn't strong enough to lift a krag's body and fly off with it, especially not after their queen had already sounded their retreat."
"A borrower then, they also like to scavenge," the scout tried again, searching for a logical answer.
"No signs of digging, no tunnels or teeth marks. Hence our confusion," Tarlak debunked it with a sigh of frustration.
"Enough, we don't have time for guessing," Varga remarked sternly as she rose to her full height, cutting off any further talking so she could think. The two krags exchanged looks but both stopped arguing. Varga was in charge, and they had a job to do.
After a prolonged pause filled only with the sigh of the wind through barren branches, the scout ventured a new theory.
"I hate to be the one to say it, but this… this has the feel of a mutant's work."
"It would explain the strangeness of it," Tarlak agreed reluctantly.
"Not necessarily," Varga mused aloud, her gaze distant as she considered darker, more calculated possibilities. The forest seemed to grow quieter once more, as if holding its breath.
The scout looked confused as he furrowed, but a look of understanding, then a deep frown settled on Tarlak's face. Her unspoken words were more than enough to trigger his own wariness.
"Well, feel free to share your thoughts Varga," the scout eventually said. Trying to break the uncomfortable silence that had descended upon them.
"We'll deal with it if comes to that," Varga replied grimly, not yet willing to give voice to the suspicion that coiled in her gut.
"Why the secrecy?" the scout asked skeptically. "If it's a mutant, shouldn't we act now?"
"Leave it alone," Tarlak responded darkly. "You don't want to know."
The scout frowned and was about to say something.
When the sound of heavy, frantic footsteps echoing down the forest road leading to the camp reached their ears. The trio looked up in unison, hands instinctively flying to the handles of their weapons, before they relaxed when they recognized the runner as one of the men who had gone with Arieus. The male Krag was breathless and covered in a fine layer of wind-blown snow, his chest heaving. After spotting Varga and the others, the runner headed their way, his exhaustion evident in every step. He slammed his fist against his chest in a hasty salute as he approached.
"Varga! Arieus sent me ahead. The raid was a success; he's on his way back with the goods." the runner told them, his words coming in pants.
"How long?" Varga asked him. Her mind already calculating the precariousness of their situation.
"They'll be here by tomorrow near midday, if they maintain their current pace," the krag reported, wiping mixture of sweat and melted snow from his brow.
A flicker of relief passed over Varga's features at the news of the warband's return, but it was quickly replaced by a deep scowl as she stared down the darkening forest path, "If only they could make it sooner," she whispered to herself.
"We should prepare for their arrival then," She waved the messenger toward the camp. "Go, rest. You've earned it."
As the runner departed towards the warmth and relative safety of the palisade, Varga turned to the other two. "Go and get the band ready for Arieus," she said to the scout. With a nod, the scout turned and made his way back towards the camp, leaving Tarlak and Varga alone in the gathering gloom.
"So," he began while stepping closer. "Are we both thinking the same thing?"
"Hopefully, we are both wrong," she said as her gaze fell back at the forest. "But it would explain the harpies' unexpected attack." She turned back to him. "Tarlak, from now on, no one goes anywhere alone. Not to the latrines, not to check the snares. Everyone is to keep a weapon on hand at all times, even within the walls."
"We are krags. We always carry our weapons with us," he laughed, but the sound was hollow, devoid of any real humor. Then, he quickly grew serious, his eyes hard. "I'll spread the word. Everyone walks in pairs. Just in case."
Varga gave a nod and waved him off. As she turned to head back to her campsite to make her own preparations.
A weary sigh escaped her.
"I hope we are overthinking this."
----
"No."
The single, flat syllable hung in the air between them.
Femi's large, brown eyes were narrowed as his small furry body tense, every muscle ready. The glowing figure before him, the one who called herself Melin, merely tilted her head, her expression still. The light around her pulsing gently.
"What?" she asked, her voice seemed to resonate in Femi's very bones.
"I am not going to agree to anything until I get some more information," Femi stated, his whiskers twitching with suspicion. He gestured around them at the shifting, shadowy landscape of his so-called own mind.
"Because it seems you are trying to push some kind of selling my soul agreement and it does not help even with your glowing figure, that I think you are a demon."
Melin's serene smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing her luminous features before she smoothed it away.
"But," Femi continued, holding up a clawed finger.
"That doesn't mean we can't reach an agreement; you just have to answer some of my questions. First, what is this place? Second why am I here? Third, you are from that dungeon, so you might be able to tell me why I was unfortunately dragged to this God forsaken world?" He rattled the questions off rapid-fire, each one pointed and direct.
Melin clasped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with renewed amusement at his stubbornness.
"I will agree to your requests," she said, gliding a little closer. The soft, ambient light she cast made the shadows retreat a few inches, as if afraid of her. "First, we are in the Night-mares, a realm that exists in the spaces between, beyond the boundaries of the physical world. It's a place where fears and anxieties take on a life of their own, and where the subconscious mind reigns supreme."
"Simply put, it is the clay from which dreams and terrors are shaped."
Femi hummed to himself, while processing this information. He glanced down at his own paws, half-expecting them to warp into something monstrous at the mere suggestion.
Well, more monstrous.
"Mmm...so, what you're saying right now is that you brought me to my nightmares?" he asked, his voice laced with deep skepticism.
Melin nodded playfully as an almost girlish energy seeming to animate her. "Yes," she said, skipping ahead lightly on the white pathway and then turning back to him with a mischievous glint in her shifting, coloured-filled eyes. Her movement stirred the darkness, causing vague, half-formed shapes to briefly swirl in the periphery.
Femi's gaze followed her, and he felt a fresh surge of frustration at her cavalier attitude. This was according to her, his nightmares after all.
"So, this is my nightmare?" he asked further, his voice rising in incredulity as he pointed at the ground beneath his feet, and at the terrifying void around them.
Melin shook her head with an almost teacher-like expression on her face.
"Yes and No," she said, while looking for the best way to clarify.
"Simply, we are at the place where the mind meets the Mare. So we just ended up in your own gate to it, that's all." She gestured vaguely to the formless space around them.
"For instance, those things that looked like your family.... are part of your inner, deeper fears. Something to do with your family, I'm sure." She said it so casually, as if discussing the weather.
Femi's eyes narrowed into slits, his previously twitching whiskers now going completely still. An icy silence emanated from him.
"Don't you think you want to confront that?" Melin asked, her voice softening into a probing, tempting whisper that seemed to slither past his ears.
Suddenly, Femi raised his arm, his palm facing Melin in a firm, stopping gesture.
"Hold on there, madam," he said, his tone leaving no room for debate.
"I'm not confronting any demons, be they inside or out. That's a motto I live by and I believe everyone should live by."
Melin's smile returned, wide and knowing. Her eyes sparkling with sheer amusement at his refusal. "So, you want to continue with...?" she asked, her voice dripping with anticipation, deliberately leaving the question hanging.
Femi's eyes remained narrowed, his thoughts swimming with the unsettling implications of this news about his own psyche. He ignored her bait completely. "And why am I here?" he asked, returning to his list of questions.
Melin's inclined her head in a slight bow of concession. "You are here because I need to tell you something important," she said, her tone shifting to one of sudden gravity.
"Something that will fundamentally change your perspective on this world and your place in it."
Femi's intense gaze fell on her despite her attempts to prevents his blindness, it still hurt to look at her but he had to. His curiosity, despite all his better judgement was piqued.
"And the third question?"
Melin's smile grew wider, becoming almost demonic "The story I'm about to tell you will answer that question," she promised, her form seeming to glow brighter, pushing back the oppressive weight of the void. "It will reveal why you, as you so put it, was unfortunately dragged here."
Femi hesitated, his survival instincts screaming at him to wake up, to flee, to reject this entire situation. It warred with his curiosity and he couldn't entirely suppress it.
He let out a long, resigned sigh as his shoulders slumped in defeat.
"Fine," he grumbled finally, crossing his arms over his chest, while bracing himself for whatever inevitable trickery and juju nonsense was to come.
"Tell your Tale."