These Dreams are (not) Dreams

A feeling of floating swept over Parvil; it felt like he was falling through jelly, without the texture. Dropping slowly through lightly chilled air. He squinted off into the pitch black void before him. Even if there were light he could tell that it stretched far beyond anything his eyes could see. The most bone chilling aspect of his descent into the dark was that it felt as if something or…perhaps everything beyond his body was moving or more accurately writhing, squirming like a mass of flesh, or a pit of snakes. It lacked any real discernible form, even with his lack of vision like that of many of his friends, like Aspen, it was a human instinct, the feeling of the predator becoming prey. He drifted down for quite some time before finally coming to rest on a surface of some kind. Though looking at his feet he wouldn’t have even known if his knees didn’t bend slightly with the stop. The surface was as black sky above and all around him, and nearly frictionless under his feet, some weird texture between ice and deeply polished marble.

“This better not be the afterlife. Because I have complaints. “ he said to himself, as he made an attempt to turn to look behind himself only for his feet to whirl him in a circle, unbalanced and graceless as he flailed his arms to gather his balance again. On pure reflex he straightened his clothes and composure as if someone were watching.

Without making the mistake of turning again he scanned as much of the area around him as he could. A slightly fruitless effort as even his own hands started to lose visibility if he stretched them out too far. “Where am I…?” he thought to himself. Tilting his head to the right, “Think Parvil…think. Last thing you remember.” and in response leaning his head to the left. “Aspen saying that ‘We will talk later’.” he answered himself before going tilting back to respond. “Before that?” he asked himself. He felt crazy doing this, and probably looked crazier but it was helping, and to the left again. “Lots and lots of pain, but a smug sense of…victory?” he asked himself. “Good, what else?” Parvil responded to himself. “Well…” he paused. “I don’t remember. I mean I remember Reinhold, I remember a thrown pot, breaking my hand, and then him swinging a sword but its like a missing page…” Parvil answered, snapping out of his own interrogation when he felt a chill up his back. Turning quickly and managing to just barely keep his footing aside from the sloppy sword stance he drew his blade the moment it was free from the sheath and brandished the sword, it…broke. Like it was made of water splashing to the ‘ground’ under his feet.

“You won’t be needing that.” a voice said from seemingly everywhere all at once, a growly rough sound like someone straining to speak with dehydrated vocal cords, the tone like the words were harsh and alien to say.

Parvil turned in a slow circle again, trying to find the trick and where the noise was coming from. But finding no source, no where it could have come from. The voice came again, more alive sounding. An eerie familiarity to it Parvil couldn’t quite place. “It is quite rare for someone with a will like your’s to not possess a single iota of magic.” the voice came again from nowhere and everywhere. Parvil let the words bounce around in his head for a moment before figuring out why he knew the voice, it was his voice. The candance was off and the words were clipped at odd intervals but it was his own voice speaking to him. “Gods I must be dreaming.” he thought.

“In a sense you are dreaming, though…not particularly your own dream.” the voice said before the dark in front of Parvil started to ungulate, and coalesce. The shape at first was impossible to make out what it was, even somehow being more black than the darkness around him it was just a crude, primal feeling of something humanoid standing in front of him, and then it happened. The form gave off a light glow that somehow cut through the darkness, Parvil had to squint a moment. Like curtains being drawn in a dark room in the middle of the day. A corona of white suffused the thing but slowly Parvil made out what it was. A reflection of sorts, if the reflection was a statue made fully of ink deeper than the deepest black. It had all his features though it was somewhat hard to tell they were there if it wasn’t moving. But seeing it do so brought an instinctual fear to the front of Parvil’s mind.

The thing that looked like him started to walk in a circle, unaffected by its slick surface.

“It is very odd.” it said, voice layered, its echo that strange language he’d heard before blacking out while fighting Reinhold. “Most mortals would be quaking in place or running, screaming in their heads to run, or to just wake up. And yet here you stand facing me. Peculiar indeed. And you are a…” the thing got close, close enough that if it could breathe Parvil would have felt its breath on his face. It leaned in close looking at his ears. “Human…odder still.” it said, pulling back.

“What are you?” Parvil asked, forcing himself to show no fear in his voice. Despite his tongue and lips feeling dry.

“I’ve had many names, or…” It paused thoughtfully for a moment. “Or my father, so to speak, has. Most can not be said by the mortal tongue. Achu-sthath.” it said the name and without realizing it Parvil flinched, it felt like he’d been suckerpunched into a migraine. None of the other words had done that. “But it’s best for both of us to not speak his name.” the thing said.

It took a step back and away from Parvil and studied him more. “I believe I am capable of working with this.” it said, though Parvil sensed something sinister in the undertones.” the thing regarded Parvil, its started seeming to bore into him. “Now. You must keep your end of our deal if you wish to remain yourself. Failing to do so will result in you forfeiting your body and allowing the deal to be completed without your input. Is that clear?”

“I don’t remember making a deal. Especially not with you.” Parvil said.

The thing made a motion like it was trying to laugh but it came out as more of a horrific sound that I probably intended for it to. “I oftentimes forget your kind tends to forget things under stress or duress. Allow me to remind you.” The thing waved a hand and between the two of them a sort of shadow puppet show started, figures mostly humanoid, with the same aura as the thing in front of Parvil played out the memory of making the bargain. “Now that it is cleared up. You have work to do.” it said. Waving a hand, Parvil snapped awake, laying in a bed, Aspen sleeping in a chair next to him. His breathing heavy but he tried to remain quiet to not wake her.

“Gods, what have I got myself into…” Parvil asked himself.

Not expecting an answer back but he got one. “Study magic, I can’t do all the work.”

“I guess it really wasn’t a dream…” Parvil said.