The sun hung low in a blood coloured sky.
The desert stretched before her, vast and endless, its golden sands shifting beneath her feet. It was her village or at least, what was left of it. The structures were nothing but broken ruins, their once strong walls crumbled into dust. The winds howled mournfully, carrying whispers that didn't belong to the desert.
Nyra stood at the heart of the destruction, her breath ragged, her axe strapped to her back and in the distance, the Black Obelisk loomed.
It stood against the dying sun, casting a shadow that stretched unnaturally across the sands, creeping forward like an encroaching tide.
A familiar voice called her name. She turned and there he was her brother. At first, he looked normal. His hair was just as she remembered, his piercing eyes sharp, the warm smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. But as he stepped closer, something was wrong.
His smile didn't reach his eyes, then, his flesh began to fall away. A piece peeled from his cheek. It curled backward, pulling away like wet parchment, revealing the muscle beneath. Another strip slid down from his forehead, exposing raw sinew and pulsing veins, his skin sagging before detaching entirely. His arms once strong, familiar began to rot before her eyes. The flesh shrivelled, darkening, before sloughing off in thick, wet strips. The bone beneath was yellowed, cracked, the tendons snapping one by one like broken strings. His lips withered, receding into his skull, leaving behind a rictus grin that was no longer human.
Still his voice remained calm. "You left me." Nyra's breath caught. "No…."
"You were always too weak."
She shook her head, stepping back, but the desert sand swallowed her feet, holding her in place. "You're not real. You're not"
His voice was mocking now. "And yet you still carry me."
Her axe. Nyra's eyes widened as she felt its weight against her back.
Her brother took another step forward, his legs crumbling beneath him, the bones snapping with each movement.
"My bones, my blood. You made a weapon out of me."
Nyra tore the axe from her back, gripping the handle so tightly her knuckles turned white.
"And you still couldn't save us."
His skull grinned, his spine twisted violently, his body convulsing as something unnatural spread through his remains. Dark tendrils sprouted from his ribs, curling and writhing like fingers clawing at the sky. His limbs elongated, bending at impossible angles.
His ribs snapped open, spreading outward, revealing a cavernous abyss where his chest should have been a void lined with rows of jagged, broken teeth. He walked toward her. The shadow of the obelisk grew.
Nyra tried to move, tried to run but she couldn't. She was frozen, her own body betraying her, her own mind trapping her in the moment she had tried so hard to forget.
Her brother or what remained of him loomed over her, his once familiar eyes now empty sockets filled with seething darkness.
His voice low, taunting spoke again.
"Will you run, Nyra? Or will you finally face what you've done?"
Nyra turned to run. Her instincts screamed at her to move, to get away, to tear herself from this nightmare but her feet wouldn't budge.
The sand had tightened around her ankles, gripping her like the hands of the dead. She gasped, struggling, but the more she fought, the more the desert began to change. The golden dunes beneath her feet darkened, shifting into something else entirely. It wasn't sand anymore.
It was bone. Endless layers of skeletons, half buried, their twisted remains filling the dunes like an unmarked graveyard. Then they moved.
The skulls beneath her shifted, their empty sockets suddenly snapping toward her. Jawbones creaked open in silent screams, and the bones began to rise, to twist, to pull themselves free from the earth.
Fingers dozens, then hundreds burst from the dunes, clawing toward her with unnatural hunger. The air became thick with the scent of rot.
Nyra struggled harder, but the more she moved, the deeper she sank her legs now buried up to her knees in the writhing, bloodstained bones. She looked up her brother was still standing there.
If he could even be called that anymore. His ribcage gaped open, split wide, jagged like the yawning maw of some eldritch beast and from that horrid, hollow cavity flesh began to spill. Thick, wet slabs of raw meat, dripping, oozing, pouring from within him as if something unseen was weaving a new body around his bones. The red tendrils of muscle fused into his stretched limbs, bulging as they pulsed, veins crawling like black worms beneath the fresh, unnatural skin.
His spine cracked, elongated, twisting too far back, then snapping forward again like a grotesque puppet.
His jaw dislocated the remains of his face peeled back, the stretched flesh hanging loosely over his skull. Beneath it, something else grinned through the red sinew, jagged and inhuman.
His voice once warm, once familiar now echoed with something rotten, something ancient, something that had lived far too long inside this dream.
"What's wrong, sister?"
His voice was mocking, sickly sweet.
The ribs of his open chest cavity twitched, then curled inward, snapping like hands clenching into fists. The new, pulsating flesh twisted itself around him, fusing his bones into something monstrous, something beyond recognition, then it took a step forward.
The entire landscape lurched with it. The skeletal dunes shivered, shifting as the countless buried bodies began to claw their way up. Drawn toward the grotesque creature before her and then the shadow of the Black Obelisk stretched further, swallowing everything, its darkness reaching toward her like grasping fingers.
The air howled, but it was whispers. Thousands of them. Hissing, laughing, calling her name. Nyra tried to scream, tried to move, tried to wake up but the nightmare wasn't done with her yet.
The skeletons swarmed her, a tide of bone and blood. Their fingers latched onto her skin, cold and relentless, pulling, tearing, climbing over her **as if she wasn't even there **as if she were just another ruin, another forgotten part of the endless grave they had emerged from. Their jagged teeth chattered in silent laughter, hollow sockets fixated on nothing or perhaps, on her.
They crawled over her body, up her legs, over her arms, burying her beneath a writhing mass of the dead. Then they began to drag themselves toward him. Toward the gaping maw of his ribcage. One by one, they crawled inside filling him.
Their skulls snapped as they twisted unnaturally, breaking, reshaping, fusing into the grotesque flesh that continued to spill from his body.
His arms stretched further, his fingers elongating into claws, his spine arching as he grew taller, larger, something monstrous, something no longer human.
Nyra couldn't move. She could only watch. Her brother's voice mocking, cruel echoed in the darkness, but his lips never moved.
The whispering wind turned to screaming. The desert, the sand, the ruins all of it was gone.
Now, there was only the void, him and the Black Obelisk.
The shadow of it grew and grew, stretching endlessly in all directions, swallowing everything until there was no ground beneath her feet and then she fell. Into the black, into the void. Into nothing, into the Rim.
Nyra gasped awake.
Her body jerked violently, her breath ragged, her skin cold with sweat. Her heart hammered against her ribs, the sensation of falling still clinging to her like phantom fingers, her stomach twisting as if she had truly been plunged into the abyss.
The fire in the cave flickered softly, the dim glow casting shadows that felt too long, too deep, too familiar.
For a split second, she wasn't sure if she was awake. Her eyes darted around, wild, searching for him, for the black obelisk, for the shifting dunes and the skeletal tide that had drowned her in death but they weren't there…. just the cave, just the others, asleep.
Valen sprawled on his back, Luken curled slightly away from the fire, Tar's hulking form settled in the shadows. The only sound was the steady crackling of embers, the occasional shift of fabric as one of them stirred in their sleep and Thal. He was standing beside her.
Nyra's breath caught, her body still tense, still ready to fight something that wasn't real. Thal didn't say anything. He didn't move nor asked. He was just there. Watching. Waiting.
Her breathing slowed bit by bit, the nightmare still coiling inside her, whispering from the corners of her mind. But Thal's presence was solid, real…. and that was enough.
Nyra swallowed, rubbing a shaky hand over her face before exhaling sharply. "…It was just a dream." Her voice was hoarse.
Thal still didn't say anything. She could tell by the way he was looking at her he already knew.
Nyra didn't think, didn't stop to tell herself it was just a dream. She didn't try to push the fear down or force herself to be strong. She just moved. Her hands gripped the rough, scarred skin of Thal's arms, and before she could stop herself, she buried her face into his chest.
The weight of it all the nightmare, the memories, the things she didn't want to face it crushed her all at once and she broke. A soft, shuddering sob escaped her lips, muffled against his chest. She tried to swallow it, tried to stop, but it came again quieter, but no less raw.
Thal didn't pull away. He just held her. His massive arms wrapped around her, solid and unwavering, his warmth chasing away the lingering cold of the nightmare. He didn't say anything, didn't try to comfort her with empty words. He simply stood there, letting her hold onto him letting her cry.
Her fingers curled into his skin, clutching him like an anchor, like he was the only thing keeping her from being swallowed by the dark. Thal held her back. Strong. Steady. Like he always had.
Like a father, like she was still that same stubborn, reckless girl he had taken under his wing all those years ago.
The fire crackled softly behind them. The others slept on unaware in the silence of the cave, Nyra wept into the only person she could trust to hold her together before she fell apart. After what felt like hours, Nyra's sobs finally faded into slow, uneven breaths.
Her body, once shaking, now lay still against Thal's chest, her fingers still curled weakly into his scarred skin. The exhaustion, the weight of the nightmare, the sheer emotion of it all it had drained her completely.
Her breathing evened out, her muscles loosening, the tightness in her chest easing just enough to let her breathe again. Thal was still holding her. His warmth remained, steady, grounding just like he always was. He didn't rush her, didn't try to pull away. He simply waited until she was ready to let go.
Nyra didn't know how long she sat there, held against Thal's chest, the warmth of his massive form grounding her as she let herself fall apart. It could've been minutes or it could've been hours.
The nightmare had clung to her mind, lurking in the corners of her thoughts, its whispers fading but never truly gone. Even now, she could still see it when she closed her eyes the Black Obelisk, the shifting bones, the rotting, twisted thing wearing her brother's face. As she long stood there, the more the real world settled back in.
The sound of the fire crackling softly nearby, the slow rhythmic rise and fall of Thal's breathing. The faint weight of his arms around her, steady, unmoving, like a shield between her and the horrors of her own mind and little by little her body began to relax.
Her ragged breaths evened out, the tension unravelling from her shoulders as exhaustion, rather than fear, crept in. She wasn't sure when the tears finally stopped, or when her hands loosened from the tight grip she had on him.
But at some point, she simply let herself rest and for once Thal let her. He didn't rush her. Didn't tell her to pull herself together. Didn't ask what was wrong.
So when she finally pulled away, just enough to look up at him, his golden eyes studying her with the same calm intensity he always carried, he only asked her one thing. "Was it the same nightmare?"
Nyra swallowed, wiping her face with the back of her hand, trying to regain some semblance of control. Her voice was hoarse when she answered. "…Yeah." That was all she had to say.
Thal nodded once, slow, his expression unreadable. Of course, he already knew the answer. He always knew. This wasn't the first time he had found her like this. Shaking. Breaking. Crying into his arms. No, the first time had been long ago.
She had been so small back then, a child standing alone in the ruins of everything she had ever known. She remembered the blood in the sand. The heat of the fire licking at the sky. The way her hands had shaken as she gripped something too heavy, too real, her brother's bones and then Thal.
The towering shadow standing over her, a presence so large, so powerful that she should've been terrified but she wasn't because the moment he knelt down, the moment his hand rested on her trembling shoulder, she had done the only thing she could do.
She had collapsed into his arms and cried until there was nothing left. And now, years later it was the same. Nyra's lips pressed into a thin line, her hands tightening at her sides. "…It's getting worse," she admitted, voice barely above a whisper.
Thal said nothing at first. His gaze didn't waver, but something flickered in those golden eyes something thoughtful. Then, after a long silence he sighed. Not in frustration. Not in dismissal. But something else.
Something that told her, in his own quiet way, that he understood. "…Dreams don't always stay buried," he finally said.
Nyra huffed out something that was almost a laugh but held no humour. "I noticed."
Thal studied her for a moment longer before his massive hand rested on her head, fingers brushing through her silver hair, the same way he had done when she was younger. It was a small gesture but it helped.
She closed her eyes for a second, breathing in, focusing on the steady weight of his hand, the warmth of it against her scalp. Her heart still ached, but the shadows of the nightmare felt farther away now.
"…You should rest," Thal said at last, his voice quieter than usual.
Nyra almost laughed at that. But instead, she just gave a tired, lopsided smirk. "Only if you do."
Thal exhaled through his nose his version of a laugh and said nothing.
Nyra knew what that meant. He never slept but at least, for tonight, she wouldn't be alone.
Thal exhaled, his massive hand slipping away from Nyra's head as he straightened to his full height. The firelight flickered against the sharp edges of his face, casting deep shadows beneath his golden eyes. He studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable, but then he shifted slightly, turning toward the mouth of the cave.
"Come on." His voice was low, steady, cutting through the quiet. "Get some air."
Nyra hesitated, her body still heavy from the weight of the nightmare, her heart still uneasy despite the warmth of Thal's presence. The exhaustion was there, deep in her bones, but sleep? Sleep wasn't coming back to her tonight.
So she pushed herself up, wiping whatever lingering dampness still clung to her face, and followed.
The air outside was crisp and cool, the scent of scorched earth and old ash still lingering in the wake of the firestorm. The battlefield was quiet now, the remnants of the Shadowfern's corruption looming in the distance like a wound that refused to close. Even the wind felt different out here lighter, less suffocating than the oppressive heat of the dream that had swallowed her whole.
Nyra took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the night air. It wasn't refreshing. It wasn't comforting but it was better than the nightmare.
As she looked up the sky stretched above them, vast and endless, a sea of stars scattered across the darkness. The full moon hung heavy, casting its silver glow across the ruined land. It was strange how something so chaotic, so violent, could exist beneath something so still.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Thal stood just beside her, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the sky as if it held some unspoken answer. His posture was relaxed, or at least, as relaxed as he ever got. There was something familiar about it something steady. Like a mountain, like a storm before the wind hit.
It had always been like this. When the nightmares came, when the past clawed its way back into her head he never asked, never pressed. He just stayed.
Nyra sighed, running a hand through her silver hair, letting the cold bite into her skin. "It doesn't stop," she muttered.
Thal didn't look at her. "No. It doesn't."
She scoffed softly. "Not the most comforting thing you've ever said."
"I don't comfort." His response was flat, matter of fact.
Nyra snorted despite herself, shaking her head. "No. You don't."
The night stretched on, the fire in the cave flickering dimly behind them. The others were still asleep, their exhaustion keeping them down despite the tension still hanging thick in the air. Out here, though out here, the world felt quieter. Just for a little while.
She kicked at a loose stone, watching it rolls forward before it disappeared into the blackened dirt. "I keep thinking about him," she admitted, her voice quieter now.
She clenched her fists, staring at the moon. "I don't even remember his face sometimes." Her voice was sharp, frustrated, like the words themselves hurt to say. "But I remember his voice. His laugh…. and then there's the nightmares always coming back like it never ended. Like it's still happening."
Thal didn't move, but his gaze finally drifted from the sky to her. Watching. Waiting.
Nyra took a slow breath. "I used to think if I was strong enough, I could make it stop. If I kept fighting, if I kept moving forward, the past wouldn't be able to catch up." Her fingers tightened around the handle of her axe, the weight of it grounding her. The very thing she had forged from the only pieces of her brother she had left. "But it doesn't work that way," she finished bitterly. "Does it?"
Thal exhaled. It wasn't a sigh, wasn't quite frustration just something tired.
"No." His voice was steady, unshaken, as if he had known the answer long before she had ever asked it. "It doesn't."
Nyra's grip on her axe loosened just a little, and she shook her head. "Damn. You really are shit at comforting people."
Thal huffed through his nose. "You already knew that."
She smirked faintly. "Yeah. Guess I did."
They stood there for a while longer, letting the cold air settle around them, letting the night stretch on without the weight of words pressing between them.
Nyra wasn't okay and she wasn't sure if she ever would be, but for right now, under the open sky, with Thal beside her, standing like a fortress against the world. For the first time since waking up, the nightmare felt a little farther away.