Sleep was a luxury that was hard to come by these days, and even if the luxury came, she'd rather it didn't. At least while awake, the memories could be pushed aside, drowned by the more mundane thoughts about work or somesuch.
It was when her day finally came to a close, and her head had hit the pillow, that the torrent of flashing images, of the yelling, came surging through to the forefront of her mind. On the harder days, she wished to never wake up again. Only for her to regret those thoughts come morning. Her work has not been finished yet. Not while they all still draw breath.
Oh, but the day will come. Then, the ghosts of her comrades would surely leave and stop plaguing her mind. And maybe, if she is lucky, she will join them as well.
All of these thoughts, this slow spiral to despair, she recognized all of it. Because of course she did, it was ever-present, and it was all she could think about while reliving those moments in her nightmares.
Then, her nightmare stopped. The horrid imagery did not disappear, it was as if time itself stopped working. The hulking ethereal, which was about to strike down one of the soldiers under her command, stopped its movements mere inches away from the soldier's head.
"Ah— What a sad, sad thing…" A soft, soothing voice came from behind her. That was new.
It was not the voice of the previous High Preceptor of Yunkui Summit she sometimes dreamed about.
She tried to whirl around, but moving in a dream was like trying to swim in molasses, and so, before she turned even halfway, a figure of a tall man filled her field of vision.
A man whose face she did not recognize. He had pale white skin, almost sickly looking, long, messy gray hair reaching down to his lower back, a pair of piercing golden eyes, with the only thing covering his body being a set of tattered, old, sun-bleached robes that might have been bright yellow at some point in the past.
"Wha–" Came out as her confused reply.
"Shh~ Colonel, how about we change the scenery? A place like this… Well, it's not fit for talking." With that said, he clapped his hands, and the nightmare shifted. Gone was the rubble, gone were the dead soldiers littering the ground, everything that made it a nightmare was gone.
All of it was replaced by a beautiful park, filled with all types of flowers, completed by a set of benches positioned just right to be in the shade of a giant elm tree. The oppressive memory of ether faded from her body, and in rushed the summer sun's warmth.
"That's a first… what an odd dream." She muttered and just so happened to notice that her movement was now unrestricted, almost as if she were awake.
"Sure. So, Colonel? How about we sit down and have a little chat, hm?" The man sat down on one of the benches and then, with a light smile, patted the spot next to him, signaling for her to sit there.
She obliged, more curious about what the dream was about than anything else.
"And who or what are you supposed to be? Some kind of defence mechanism my brain came up with?" She asked and eyed him with undisguised curiosity. Now that they were so close to each other, she noticed that he radiated the same warmth as the sun hiding behind the leaves. It was pleasant, and she sincerely hoped that this dream would not end anytime soon.
"Haha~ On no, far from it. Guess again, Mevorakh." He said, his voice carrying the same light tone as before, but there was something else underneath, and that something made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. That something made the warmth he radiated dissipate for but a brief moment, but it was enough for her to notice.
Did her mind conjure up the image of the Creator? Was this going to be just another nightmare after all? Was this a way her subconscious mind was punishing her for playing all sides? For betraying everybody?
"You got it. I can see it on your face. Don't think about it too much for now."
"Umm— What?" She was baffled at his nonchalant attitude.
"As I said, don't worry about it for now. If you so choose, you can think of me as just a figment of your imagination. I don't mind." Then he did something she was not expecting him to do. He reached for her hand, the one carrying the Creator's mark, and tapped it with his finger.
"This thing needs a serious overhaul, or you'll be dead in a year or two. Can't have that, now can we? You're way too important for my plans after all." He muttered, more to himself than to her, and a second later, a sensation akin to ice coursing through one's veins filled her entire forearm, only for it to be replaced by searing heat immediately after.
"Tss– What are you doing?!" She clutched her arm to her chest and glared at the man.
"Helping. You'll see when you wake up. Though I suggest wearing a long glove from now on."
"Oh, please… the only thing I'll see when I wake up is going to be my sweat-drenched bed." She hissed back sarcastically, still cradling her arm. He just smiled and shook his head slightly.
"I wouldn't be so sure. Have a little faith." He stood up immediately after that and began walking in a random direction, before he stopped and glanced back at her.
"Try not to freak out when you wake up, okay?" With that said, he disappeared, leaving behind a few little motes of light gently drifting down to the ground.
She just sat there, bewildered, looking at the spot the man had disappeared from. This had to have been the strangest dream she had ever had. But at least it was not a nightmare. She stood up, rubbed the hurting arm a little, and started to walk around the park.
"Am I lying on my arm? Is that why it's hurting?"
—
"What the fuck?!"
Once Isolde woke up, the strange dream was still fresh in her memory, so he idly decided to inspect the offending arm, and what she saw left her speechless.
Before, the Creator's mark was barely visible to the naked eye, and one had to strain their eyes just to make it out.
Now though? Her entire forearm was covered in lightly glowing dots and lines of golden color, and the skin underneath suddenly turned pale, almost ashen white. It was the same color as the man's eyes and his skin.
The lines zigged and zagged across her arm, connecting the dots in a strange pattern, almost resembling something you'd see in a computer. And all of those patterns converged on the tips of her fingers, making them almost entirely golden save for her nails.
Forcefully, she calmed herself down and propped herself up into a sitting position. That's when she noticed.
Her body felt lighter than it had in ages, her muscles did not ache as they usually do after sleep, and the usual morning brainfog plaguing her for some time now was never to be found.
Then she remembered his parting words. Try not to freak out when you wake up.
But in recalling those words, she was reminded of the man who said them, and her thoughts ground to a halt. That… That was not possible, right? That man could not have been the Creator that the Exaltists are desperately trying to usher into the world, right? Because if so, everything changes.
"That— That's crazy."
But who else could have done something like this to her? This thing on her arm was as real as it got. It was doing something to her, and that something was positive, if her physical state after waking up was anything to go by.
TOPs did not have that kind of technology, nor did the army, for that matter, and even if they did, would they waste it on her? Sure, she occupied a high position, but these days, she was mostly a non-combatant.
"Fucking hell… I guess he was right about the glove. If anybody else sees this, they might just ship me off to a lab, and I'll never see the light of day." She looked over the arm again and just plopped herself back onto the bed.
"What am I supposed to do now? Do I just continue on the course I have planned? There is no way I will be allowed to do that…" Honestly, the arm itself was the least of her worries, she was dying anyway, but she was holding on for her comrades. It was the implication that the Creator, the mysterious entity that nobody knew barely anything about, was somehow somewhere out there, and that he was actually not just some kind of eldritch entity, with goals beyond their human understanding.
He was human, or at least he appeared that way to her. He spoke like a human too.
"There seems to be no way back, huh?" She ran her normal hand through her hair and sighed.
Isolde had made her bed a while ago, and now it was time to actually lie in it. Only time would tell if the dreams she's going to have are going to be nightmares.