To Sleep - To Dream

It was one of the darkest nights the witch had seen among her travels. The moon, while on display in the sky, was greatly dimmed despite there being no clouds in the sky.

The long knife, which held the stinger, firmly grasped in Islana's hand. Her eyes on watch for some unseen enemy.

Her ears caught the sound of chittering which grew louder and louder until it became deafening.

The sound was invading all of her senses, her body fell to the ground, paralyzed. Her mind began to swim with images.

An endless number of memories that were not her own: blood, death, fear, killings by and of the Skara invaded her consciousness all at once. While her own experiences and fears were violently drawn from her. Her family, the woods, slavery, abuse, the creed, her friends and enemies, the Pilgrimage. The hive mind violently attacked her over and over, until she could feel the blood rushing from her brain and out of her body.

Kaithak flew just out of reach, her mind unable to tap into the place which held her magik.

The Skara wasn't able to be seen, but it could be felt all around. There were hundreds of them, all coming after the huntress. The sound growing ever louder…

Islana awoke with a start, in a cold sweat, shaking, her mouth dry. Her heart was racing and breath labored. Damn, nightmares.

It took her another moment to recognize the room. No Skara. No longer outside in the brutal sands.

There was no telling how long she had slept and, with no windows, no way to know the time. It had been long enough that the tray with her empty bowl had been taken away, replaced with a pitcher of water. The liquid confirmed once she actually rose from the bed and hobbled her way over towards the desk which held the container.

Islana made use of the water, downing two cups of it before putting the cup down, sitting back on the bed, and attempting to focus on something other than the dream about that vile creature.

Madaya came to mind. The redhead hoped her younger friend was going to be safe. Islana really didn't like that they had been separated. She had promised to keep the girl safe, and now that wasn't possible.

There was no getting away from thoughts of the Skara and the hive mind completely. She pulled out her long knife. Her eyes focused on the stinger. That was what was left of that Skara. She was now far from where it had been killed.

*It can't get me, again.* Over and over, the huntress repeated the sentence in an attempt to convince herself. It did little to ease her fears.

Her eyes wandered down from the stinger, to the handle and the sign of the Twin Gods etched into it.

Islana never thought she would meet a God; now the young woman had met two of them.
She had thought, if one was to meet a God, it would be a fearful experience. It wasn't.

Coming from a culture that believed people like her were evil and deserving of being struck down by those that were supposedly doing the work of the Pillars had made Islana not just distant from that religion but fearful of it.

After experiencing the Twin Gods and several cultures which didn't fear magik, she now thought of the Pillars and the Inquisition as wrong. Wrong about magik, and wrong in their crusade to erase such power.

Those thoughts were interrupted by her arm throbbing, the pain in her ankle and a sudden feeling of nausea which swept over her. She took a few deep breaths, in an attempt to hold back the symptoms.

She needed to occupy her mind with something else. There was a topic definitely laying heavy with her. The murders. The young woman spent a great deal of time contemplating everything she could about that mystery. What kind of person might be behind them? The little she knew. The enormous amount that she didn't. Had word gotten to the priests here about the killings? Would any other penitents arrive from the Pilgrimage?

That led to wondering what would happen next when it came to the Pilgrimage. Agizul had mentioned The Council of The Wandering. It sounded to Islana like a group of priests, though that was just a guess. Her mind was more focused on what he had called, The Trial.

What kind of trial could it be? Considering the trials she had already endured, it was difficult to imagine what could be added.

After her mind worked though several possibilities, some time had gone by. Probably due to her injuries and despite the nightmare, Islana found herself growing tired, once again. Her eyes drifted towards the ceiling before her eyelids closed.