The Unseen

I know this place.

Four white walls, a white ceiling, and a matching floor, all smooth and spotless. A bare cot in the corner of the room illuminated by one lonely lightbulb.

How long has it been since I left this shithole?

“Wake up, Celestria.” A monotone voice addresses the room with its grating drone. The tiny hairs on my forearms jump upright, wavering like a tightrope walker crossing a perilous line. My brow furrows. Looking back towards the cot, I spot the hazy outline of a little girl sitting by herself. She hugs her knees to her chest as if they were a shield. So helpless – a feeling long forgotten. What I haven’t forgotten is how I suffered on that little cot, though.

It’s always strange to see yourself in a dream. How many days has her stomach gnawed at itself? Since her cracked lips knew the touch of clean water? It was difficult to keep count of those things. And there it is – that telltale knock, knock, knock of bony knuckles on sheet metal. It was time for another examination. Her tiny frame shudders with dread as the door swings aside…

My eyes snap open and I freeze. Something is hovering inches away from my face. Nostrils flare, hungrily devouring my scent. Two eyes, shadowed and vacant, sit affixed beside gaunt cheekbones. I don’t move. I don’t even breath. Am I still dreaming? No, the stench of gore is too vivid for this to be another dream.

My hands curl into fists. Soft cotton sheets meet my fingers instead of the smooth rosewood of my sword’s hilt. Where is my sword…? My heart beats like a war drum on a steady approach. It still hasn’t moved. Time ticks on in silence as it studies me, each grain of sand slipping through the hourglass one… by… one…

It straightens up. A lantern flickers in the corner of my eye. The silhouette stands tall and motionless like a monolith. It radiates an intense aura – deep purple, the color of loathing. Scan the room without moving my head, looking for my sword – no good, the lantern barely casts any light. Just shadows and the stranger beside my bed. Wait. Just shadows? What about the children? The mother? I can’t sense them at all. Goosebumps up and down my arms now.

That’s when I notice the sound. Drip, drip. Drip, drip. Right beside the bed. My surroundings begin to sharpen. The visitor is holding something at its side, but it’s too dark to see clearly. Could it be a thief making off with my host’s belongings? The thought energizes me to action and I sit up in bed. Sword or no sword, I can handle a thief.

“Come with me.” The voice of a man, scratchy and hoarse. The visitor turns away and steps towards the door, into the light of the lantern.

My lips part and my heart dives into my stomach. I lock eyes with the little girl who had begged me to save her mother just this morning. Her severed head, along with her mother and brother’s, hang suspended by a fistful of hair. Vacant eyes, scared and pleading, mouths agape. The door swings open and they disappear with the specter, but not before the sight burns itself into my memory.

Rage. You won’t get away with this, you son of a bitch! I spring out of the bed and grab the lantern. My sword. Where is my sword? Stomp around the cottage looking for one thing and one thing only – my sword. Where is it? There it is, propped up by the window. Grab it, rip the scabbard off. A bloodcurdling scream from outside. Someone saw it? Lantern in one hand, naked blade in the other, I burst out of the cottage with murder in my eyes.

Two hazy outlines in the street before me. I recognize one – the specter, radiating a hatred that might match my own. A slumped figure lying on the ground behind it – another victim? Another life cut short? Quick footsteps carry me forward and I rip my katana through its back, biting into the bone. Not deep enough. It staggers forward, snarls, and turns towards me. Face to face again in the middle of the street. Dead, white eyes. Eyes like mine. It bares its teeth and I respond in kind. Neither of us move.

Angry shouting in the distance. It’s getting louder. I see lights approaching from a distance.

“What are you?” It snarls at me. Don’t speak, just die, you bastard! My blade slices through empty air as it ducks down. It’s fast. I follow up with another cut, but it doesn’t connect and I stumble forward. The specter takes the opportunity to dart past me. Square up again, but it’s already gone. Disappeared into the darkness.

Where did it go!? A sharp hiss as I inhale through clenched teeth. It’s not human. It can’t be. It’s too quick. I can’t see well enough to tell where it might have gone.

“Don’t move!” I turn out of reflex. Something hard cracks me in the jaw and the world spins sideways. I stagger and fall to the ground. Flagstone on bare skin. A circle of lantern lights dance a drunken waltz before everything goes black.

…

Floating now. Head hurts. Heavy footsteps. Loud voices. Make it stop. I want to go back to sleep…

…

My eyes are open again. It’s dark and I’m alone. My head still hurts. I still feel stone pressing against my back. My sword is missing again. So are my my sandals and my satchel. Did I leave them in the cottage? Groan. What is this place?

“Hello…?” My jaw throbs as I call out to the darkness.

“She’s awake now.” Someone thinks. A man nearby. No aura. Is he in another room?

“Where am I?” I ask. A warm light filters through the window in front of me, parted by three iron bars.  

“You’re in prison, witch.” A man’s voice calls out from behind the light. I can’t see his face. Looking around, I confirm that I am sitting in a dingy prison cell. Shit…

“Why am I here?” My question is met with a gruff growl.

“Why do you think, witch?” The guard spits back.

“I wouldn’t be asking you if I knew, asshole!” Now it’s my turn to snarl. I stand up and nearly fall over – it’s still hard to balance. My outstretched hand finds the wall and I use it to steady myself.

“Has the magic rotted your brain, witch? Or are human lives so insignificant to you that you cannot remember the four you just ended?” His voice burns with righteous anger. Oh no. They think that I killed them? Didn’t they see the culprit flee!?

“You idiots! It wasn’t me. I fought the murderer! You let him escape!?” I snap back at him.

“We caught you red-handed. I’ve got your bloody sword right here, too. You’ll be hung tomorrow morning without a trial, so enjoy the last few hours of life you have left. Don’t get any big ideas, either!” The fire in his voice lingers. I groan again. How am I going to get out of this mess? A deep sigh escapes my lips.

Alright, Seles. Calm down. Think. You’ve escaped from a prison once before, haven’t you? Yes, I have. First thing’s first.

“Athos… can you hear me?” My thoughts echo into the void. Silence. A cold sweat creeps down the back of my neck. Did they break the mirror!?

“Yes, my Queen. I can hear you.” A familiar voice that only I can hear.

“Where are you, Athos?” I hear the guard shuffling around outside.

“I am in the cottage, my Queen. The cat is here with me.” The cottage? Damn, I must have left my mirror and my sandals there. How stupid of me…

“Come forth then. I summon you to this world. Bring Porthos with you. I need your help.” My familiars might not be as powerful in the real world, but they can at least fetch my things for me. I hear a feline meow loudly in protest.

“Already bossing me around? Sheesh. I was just taking a nap.” A new voice now – that must be Porthos, The Goblin Cat. My new familiar.

“You belong to me now, cat. You are bound to my bidding. Now, listen carefully. Porthos, you are to fetch my belongings from the cottage. Take my mirror, sandals, and satchel, then wait for us on the edge of town in a secluded place. That is your task.” I rapidly rattle off my orders.

“You’re making me carry your things? Why me? Can’t the bird do it instead? And why is my name Porthos? Don’t I get any say in that!?” Porthos hisses back.

“Because I said so. Stop arguing with me and do as I say, or your new name will be Mr. Stinky Bottom!” Didn’t I tell Athos to show him the ropes? Another sigh escapes me.

“Fine…!” He yowls.

“What are your orders, my Queen?” Athos chimes in, as loyal and obedient as ever. I hope he rubs off on Porthos soon.

“Come to me. I need to borrow your sight so I can get out of here.” I respond. No need for directions or a location – Athos can sense my presence.

“At once, my Queen.” Athos responds. With that, silence returns. Only one thing left to do now and that is bust out of this filthy prison cell. How am I going to do that…?

A sly grin creeps across my lips as I step towards the door. Peering out the barred window, I spot the guard sitting next to the door, back against the wall as he smokes a cigarette. Seems like it’s just us here. This must be solitary confinement. Perfect. I couldn’t ask for a better set-up.

“Hey, you. If you’re just going to hang me without a trial, I think I am entitled to a final request.” My voice is sultry, radiating with hidden power. The guard doesn’t bother to look at me, though.

“Let me guess… you want to get laid one last time before you die? Nice try, witch, but I’m no fool.” The guard’s response is as gruff as ever. Looks like I’m dealing with a seasoned veteran here. No matter.

“Don’t flatter yourself. You wouldn’t be able to handle me anyways.” My voice continues to ooze with the hidden power of suggestion. He won’t be able to hold out for long, not when he’s sitting a few feet away from me.

“… What is it then?” He asks. That’s right, fall under my spell…

“I want a smoke. Isn’t it proper to give someone a smoke before they’re wrongfully accused of murder and executed?” My voice softens, pleading with him, but my eyes are glittering with anticipation. He’ll fall for it.

“Get your own, witch.” His voice has lost some of its edge, but he’s still holding out. We have a tough customer here, but he’ll crack.

“But I want one of yours. Besides, I didn’t kill anyone… I mean, just look at me. I’m not a witch! I’m a medicine woman!” I pretend to pout. C’mon, you bastard. Take the bait!

“If I give you one, will you shut up for the rest of the night?” Finally, he turns his head to look up at the window framing my face. I nod my head emphatically. Just a little more…

“Fine then. One cigarette. Just one.” Now he stands up and reaches into his pocket before withdrawing a small, flat tin. He opens it, revealing several cigarettes. He fingers one and flicks it through the window bars. It hits me square in the forehead before it falls to the floor. I crouch down and pick it up, then place it between my lips.

“I need a light.” I ask with my sweetest, most innocent voice. I grab two of the window bars and press my face between then, cigarette dangling from my lips. Just a little more…

“Fine. Hold still.” The guard fishes a square metal lighter out of his pocket, then flicks it open and strikes the wick with a practiced motion. Not bad. The flame draws near to the end of the cigarette and I can’t help but smile. Too easy.

My hands dart out from behind the bars to grab his wrist. My fingers find the bare skin on his forearm. Just like that, I’ve won.

“You belong to me now.” My voice reverberates throughout the inside of his skull, impossibly loud. His eyes go wide and he freezes in place. Not so tough now, are you, big guy? You’re mine for the next five minutes or more. I release his wrist.

“Light my cigarette. Now.” The guard proceeds to light my cigarette. My lips pucker as I take a long draw before blowing a cloud of smoke in his face. His eyes water and I note the tinge of sapphire emanating from his pupils – the telltale sign of a successful possession.

“Unlock the cell and let me out.” The guard doesn’t hesitate to pull the keyring from his belt and after a few moments, I hear the cylinders in the lock beginning to turn. A second later, the door swings open and I calmly step outside of the prison cell.

“Fetch my sword and give me the keys.” The guard complies with this command as well. He’s nothing more than a puppet on a string now. As I grasp my sword, I feel a sense of relief wash over me. Nearly done here, soon I’ll be on my way… but what to do with this dolt?

“Give me the keys. Strip naked, leave your clothes on the floor, then get in the cell and go to sleep.”  My final command. The guard does as he’s told and I lock him inside the cell before I help myself to his cloak, boots, and some of his other effects, donning them all to make a somewhat convincing disguise. My sword finds its home again, inside my waist sash, then I draw the hood of his cloak tight around my face. Lantern in one hand, cigarette in the other, I make my way down the hallway, keeping my head down to avoid making eye contact with anyone. Piece of cake.

There is hardly a soul awake to interfere as I use the lights along the ceiling as waypoints to mark my way. The guards that I do pass by pay no attention to me. This place seems pretty understaffed. I wonder why? Probably getting drunk somewhere. No matter — soon enough I find myself walking out the front door of the prison without anyone raising a finger to stop me.  

“I am here, my Queen.” I hear a familiar voice once again and I look up. A bright orange aura catches my eyes. It’s small, like a bird. It must be Athos posing as a crow again. I nod to him.

“Fly overhead and guide me out of this town. You are my eyes now.”  With that, Athos unfurls his wings and takes flight, circling high above the town. His bird’s eye view of the settlement and its roads flashes before my eyes.

“I need directions. This city is like a maze to me.”

“Yes, my Queen. Take a right into the alleyway after another twenty paces.” He chirps in reply. Such a faithful little friend. What would I do without him?

I keep my eyes on the ground in front of me, careful not to bump into anyone or anything as I follow his directions. After all, I can’t see more than a few feet in front of my face, not even in broad daylight. Magical eyes are not without their pitfalls, I guess.

After walking for some time, the flagstone gives way to loose gravel. The din of the taverns and gambling halls are long gone now. A small, light red aura appears in the distance. The silhouette gradually becomes clear – it’s a small cat. This must be Porthos. He hisses as we approach, but thankfully he’s much less intimidating in this form.

I kneel down close so I can see him better. A little black cat, nondescript except for his ruby red eyes and streaks of white radiating outward from his wet little nose. Reaching out, I offer him a little pat on the head, but he turns away and saunters off. Fine, be that way. I pick up my satchel and sling it around my neck and shoulder.

“Well done, you two.”I offer my familiars a heartfelt job well done.

“Thank you, my Queen! It is a privilege to serve you.” Athos offers his regal reply, formal as ever. Porthos just meows and keeps on strutting down the road in front of me, tail raised high. The world begins to brighten now – that must be the dawn sun creeping over the horizon. The sun… something I’ve only seen clearly in drawings, pictures, and paintings.  

“Where shall we go now, my Queen?” Athos’ query reigns in my wandering mind. I ponder as I put one foot in front of the other, keeping the cat in front of me as the little crow bounces down the road beside me.

Good question. I’m not sure where I want to go next, but I know I want to put everything that just happened as far behind me as I possibly can. Would I like to avenge that little girl and her family? Of course, but even if I could find that specter, I’m not confident I can kill it. Even if I could, it won’t bring them back. What’s done is done. They were strangers, kind ones, but strangers nonetheless, and tragedies like this happen every day. I’m no hero. Heroes wind up dead.

“To the next township, Athos.” And so it goes.

“A VISITOR”
Written by Jungle, (C) 2021, all rights reserved.

Trust yourself. Believe in the vision.

I crouch in wait at the base of an aging birch tree, drawing the gray fur of the Wolf Mother around me to ward off the chill. The familiar smell keeps me calm and drives away the anticipation of the hunt. Even still, I am cold. Off in the distance, I can see the great stone wall marked by a crescent moon. Behind it looms the True Moon, full and bright. With or without its light, I see all – moss draping the wall, a snake slithering through the dead leaves on the forest floor, a lone hare warily sniffing the air, the horned owl staring at it from a nearby tree bough… nothing escapes the eyes of a hunter.

Heavy clouds threaten to hide the moon and drench me in rain. I grit my fangs and growl a warning at the sky. My prey could arrive at any moment, so I cannot afford the smoke of a campfire. Arté saw the hunting party beneath the light of the True Moon. Her visions always came to pass. This is the third night of the True Moon, and it could only last two more nights at most. There is no mistaking the landmark either – there are other walls in the world, yes, but I have seen none marked with the sign of the moon besides this one, the one that guards the Fields of the Fallen.

I scaled that wall once when I was young and curious. Inside the walls, there is a valley of iron that houses a field of sand, perfectly flat and full of forgotten bones. None of the skulls I saw belonged to beasts. I recognized it as a sacred place, a place that Death visits often. I pondered its purpose, knowing life must be taken so that life may continue, but I had never seen a beast that could consume so many. As a younger woman, I was puzzled, but now I grasp the truth: they were consumed by the Moon, a beast so great that it can chase the Sun across the sky. Knowing this, I would not choose to disturb the dead again. Let them rest: they belong to the Moon now. It is the way of the seasons.

The owl swoops down from its perch and tackles the hare, rending the rabbit with its talons, beating its powerful wings to stay upright. The hare struggles and cries out as it is ripped apart. The owl squeezes tight with its claws and tears at the hare’s throat with its beak. The hare goes limp, and the owl begins to peck away at its meal. Life is given so that life may continue. This is the way of the seasons; as the summer burns away the spring, so does the winter bury the fall, and so it goes.

The sound of fluttering wings fills my ears. I look up and spot a cloud of bats take off into the night, off to the east, near the great wall of the Moon, where a city of stone lay in ruin. My prey has arrived… and they are clumsy. I stand and pull the great bow off my back, fixing one end in the earth and bracing it against my boot. The Ashwood bow staff stands as tall as I, and with a shaft as wide as my wrist. The wood creaks as I bend and string it. The bowstring hums quietly as I pluck it once to test the tension.

Arté had noted that the invaders carried rifles. She worries too much and she also thinks too highly of the rifle. A gun is just a tool, a loud one. The hunter is the one that kills, not the tool. This place is a full day north from our home, the Ivy City. Every time the Unfed have come to raid our home, they have come from the north. Killing three men with a bow would be easier than killing dozens with a rifle. Arté could not argue with this, and so I set out alone.

Long strides carry me through the forest and towards the stone forts and towers. Their empty windows gaze at me like dead eyes, silently watching each step. The winds that carry the gray clouds moving overhead pass through the windows and whisper their secrets to me. The stone towers are now home to bats and other beasts that might give away my presence, so I stay outside. A hunter’s greatest tool is surprise. The wind also carries with it the smell of my prey; the scent of liquor is strong and it is not carried by any beasts besides the ones I have come to hunt.

I soon find myself standing atop one of the many bridges joining the winding roads that crisscross the city. My father had a word for this type of rock: concrete. It was made by hands, not by nature, and it was difficult to destroy. Surveying my surroundings from up on high, I see nothing but cold stone forts staring back with their empty eyes. It was a place like this where I’d lost him. Blood trickles from my lip as I bite down on it, stifling the memories of the past. The hunt was not the time to remember the dead. The pain brings focus with it.

A stag bounds into view and it pauses at a crossroads, unsure of where to run. I fight the instinct to draw an arrow. The resounding crack of a gunshot startles the stag and it leaps away, now bounding down the road. I drop into a crouch and peer over the edge of the bridge. The sound of angry voices and stomping boots echo against the stone ruins lining the streets. By the time the hunting party made it to the intersection, the stag had run off down another road, out of sight again. The confounded men now stand in the middle of the crossroads, arguing with one another.

“You fucking idiot! Why did you shoot!?” One man’s gruff voice rings out above the others. He stands tall and I am reminded for a moment of a brown bear rearing back onto its hindquarters. He and the two other men turn and confront the fourth. I can tell the fourth is the runt of the pack by his small size as well as his slumped shoulders. No, I am mistaken; the fourth is not a man, he is just a pup.

“I had a clear shot! It’s not my fault, it’s this piece of shit rifle! You guys took the good ones and left me with this garbage!” The runt fires back. His barks are shrill and tense, full of fear. I continue to watch as I reach behind my head. My fingers close around the feather fletching of an arrow, which I draw from its quiver and notch against my bowstring.

“Give me that!” Another one of the men, also much larger than the pup, stows his own rifle by slinging it behind his back, then he grabs the runt’s weapon. He holds it up, aiming down the sights for a moment, then pulling the bolt back and inspecting the breach. I can see his lips move as he murmurs something but he does not give the rifle back to the pup yet.

“I told you already. You don’t shoot alone. You wait until the rest of us have a shot too. That is how we operate! You just cost us our first real meal in days!” The leader speaks again, still angry. “You shot first because you wanted to say you killed it, dumbass!” He ends his angry rant by cuffing the young one with the back of his fist. The runt’s head snaps to the side with the impact. No response from the runt here. The men turn away from the stunned pup, whispering to one another, and I can’t make out their words. I can guess what they’re saying though. Arté’s visions have always come true. I think about how many paces it would take to reach the pack: about sixty, I’d say.

“Alright Petros, it’s been decided…” The leader speaks to the runt as the other two men circle behind him. The young one looks over his shoulder nervously, not sure what to do. I can sense fear and desperation now. One of the men slams the butt of his rifle into the runt’s back and he yelps in pain. The other man follows up by kicking him in the back of the kneecap, dropping him to all fours. The leader continues to address the pup.

“Since you scared away our dinner… you’re going to take its place, Petros.” The leader lowers his voice now and I can barely make out the words. He levels his rifle at the runt. A new scent invades my senses as a little pool begins to puddle up by the cub’s knee. One of the men notices it, points, and starts to laugh. The other man waves his hand at the leader and points at a machete hanging from the leader’s belt. My jaw clenches in disgust. These are the Unfed.

“You’re right, not worth the ammunition.” The leader says as he slings his rifle and draws the machete instead. The man standing behind the boy kicks him in flank, flattening him out onto the concrete. He slings his rifle and kneels so that he can wrench the boy’s arm away from his body and straighten it out, pinning it flat against the concrete. The third man plants a foot on the pup’s back, pressing his weight down on him. The muzzle of his stolen rifle rests against the back of his head.

“This has been a long time coming, you little shit…” Now the leader positions himself to take the pup’s arm with his machete. I stand up and take aim. The muscles in my arm flex against the mounting tension of the bowstring. Breath in. I imagine the arrow piercing flesh and adjust my aim. Breath out. The leader raises his machete on high and the tension disappears as I let the arrow take off towards its target: the only one with a rifle in his hands.

“What the fuck!?” The leader yells as my target staggers forward and slams into him. I notch another arrow as I breath in again. The second man releases the boy’s arm and stands up, fumbling for the rifle slung over his back. I picture my arrow piercing his chest as I breath out and release. The man raises his rifle and turns towards me just as my second arrow tears through his flesh and impales him. Blood leaks from between his clenched teeth as he falls to his knees. One left.

“Wait! Don’t kill me! Don’t!” The leader shoves the dying man away and raises both hands in surrender. He looks around with the wild eyes of a doomed animal and his machete clangs against the concrete. I notch another arrow and breath in once more. I can see the final shot hitting its mark. I breath out, pause, and release the straining arrow.

It whistles through the air before finding its new home in the leader’s throat.  The leader falls backwards onto the street, clutching at the wooden arrow shaft sticking out of his neck as his boots kick the ground in agony. All three of them bleed out before I can make my way over. The young pup is still curled up on the ground like a newborn, passed out in a puddle of piss and spilled blood. What a sorry sight.

“… Boy.” My voice does nothing to rouse him. I nudge his leg with the tip of my boot a few times. Still nothing. I stand over him now, planting one foot on either side of his torso. I bend at the waist, leaning down to slap his cheek. Still nothing. Did he die of fright? I slap him like I mean it this time and then he wakes with a start.

“W-w-wolf…!” He yelps as he looks up at me in fear and confusion. I cock my head to the side, then realize what’s going on. Right. I peel my skull headdress back to reveal my face, but it does not bring him any comfort. I should have expected this kind of reaction. After all, a minute ago he was about to become a meal.

“W-w-woman!? Wolf woman!? Wolf woman!!” He continues to cry out in fear as he holds his hands up in front of his face, as if that would protect him. I sigh, looking up at the True Moon for a moment. Don’t doubt yourself, Roré. You know this boy’s value. I look back down at the boy and plant one hand on his chest to keep him from moving. Then I ball my other hand into a fist and strike him through an opening in his guard, careful to hold back so I don’t kill him by accident. My punch connects squarely with one side of his chin and his head snaps to the side. His eyes roll back into their sockets. All is quiet.

I look down at the boy and inspect him. He’s young, maybe fifteen or sixteen years old. His hair is so short that he almost looks bald and so I can’t tell what color it is. The blood splatters on his face glisten in the moonlight. It looks like his lip is split, but otherwise he’s not too badly hurt. His complexion is pale and judging by his cheek bones, he wasn’t very well fed. Truly the runt of the pack. No matter to me, I’m not here for a meal.

Not long after, I find myself entering the woods south of the city, this time with a teenage boy slung over my shoulder, bound and gagged, but still alive. This young cub, betrayed by the Unfed, would prove to be a valuable source of information for my pack. He knows where our enemy sleeps, he knows their number, and he knows their habits. Whether or not he is able to run with the pack is less important than the information he will provide us.

The hunt is over and it is time to return home.

THE HUNTRESS AND THE LOST CUB
Written by Jungle.
© 2021, all rights reserved.

Where am I? A bright, full moon hangs overhead, shedding its light on a clearing in the middle of a forest. The surrounding trees loom tall, like dark and ominous strangers. Standing alone, I feel exposed. It seems as if the entire world is asleep. Something rises up from the center of the clearing. It seems… geometric, somehow. What is it?

My boots plod against damp grass as the structure grows larger and sharper. It’s a door. Just a door, no building behind it. Who put this here? My unease melts away into curiosity as I circle the doorway. My knuckles rap against it thrice – knock, knock, knock. It’s solid, sturdy. My fingertips brush against the wood’s grain and I can feel something engraved there. Is this a crescent moon? The craftsmanship is beautiful. Why would someone go through the trouble of making this only to leave it in the middle of nowhere?

“Help…” A meek voice whispers a single word. My blood freezes. Is someone here? My eyes dart left and right as I scan the clearing again. Nobody’s here. Could someone be hiding in the trees? Or maybe I’m hearing things? I hold my breath and listen.

“In here…” There it is again. I didn’t imagine it. It sounds like a woman is trying to speak to me from behind the door. My heart starts to beat faster. Quick footsteps carry me around the other side of the door and back again. Nobody’s there. How could that be possible? My gaze drifts down, towards a translucent glass handle blown into the shape of a seven-pointed star. I wonder if it’s locked?

My outstretched hand hovers over it, hesitating, then my fingers close around the doorknob and twist it open. As soon as the latch clicks, a sudden gust of wind blows the door wide open and it knocks me on my rear. My hair whips around my face, covering my mouth and muffling a surprised gasp. It’s so bright! Light pours through the doorframe, bathing me in silver. My eyes nearly shut as I squint to figure out what I’m looking at. For a second it seems like I’m staring at a beautiful painting of the night sky, complete with a luminescent moon, accompanied by a guard of rolling clouds, and set against a backdrop of a night sky studded with stars. It’s not a painting, though. Those soft, majestic clouds are moving.

Time ticks on as I sit in quiet awe. A magical doorway in the middle of nowhere? I stand up and dust myself off. The wind continues to wail. Shivers race up and down my spine. I poke my head through the opening and peer down. My stomach flutters – the ground gives way at the door’s threshold.

Then the realization hits me: it’s a doorway to the sky. This can’t be real. If it is, it has to be some kind of magic. Hundreds of questions zip through my head – who made this? Why did they make it? What is its purpose? Can the door go to other places too? I think about closing it and opening it again to test that thought, but I’m afraid that if I do, I’ll lose this breathtaking view. I poke my head through the doorframe and look down once more.

A glimmer of light flickers near my feet. It’s very faint, barely perceptible, but I can see it – the reflection of the moonlight against the open sky… but how is that possible? I drop to a crouch and look closer. It seems like there is some sort of translucent pathway leading out from the door. I reach out and try to touch it. The air is firm and smooth, like a bridge made out of glass.

“Please help me…” The voice calls out again and I look up. I still can’t see anybody out there. I wonder how far this bridge goes?

Another weighty realization hits me: if I am going to answer her call, I’ll need to go out there. Will that bridge even support my weight? The bottom of my boot taps against the translucent platform. It feels solid. With one hand on the door frame, I lean my weight against the glass, testing the bridge a little more. So far so good. A tremor shoots up my leg as I stomp the heel of my boot down upon it. No cracks, not even a scuff.

“Hurry…!” She calls to me again and I can sense the urgency in her voice. Deep breath, Seles.

I step through the doorway and onto the bridge. It feels just as sturdy as the earth on the other side, if not more so. A few cautious steps carry me further from safety and out into the night sky. Amazing. The whole world sits beneath me as the moon hangs overhead, larger than I’ve ever seen. For a moment, I forget what I’m doing.

“This way…!” The voice calls out to me again. I cautiously advance, carefully tracking the traces of moonlight reflected along the glass. A misstep here would spell my doom. Another gust of wind crashes against me, threatening to knock me off balance. I gulp. Lights flicker far below me – probably a city. It seems so small, like a castle made of sand. Time feels infinite up here. I continue to walk along the bridge as the doorway gets smaller and smaller behind me.

“Where are you?” I cup my hands to cheeks and call out loudly.

“I’m right here, Celestria…” A raspy voice fills my ears, followed by a bang as the door slams shut. I spin around, startled. The door is gone, replaced by a dark silhouette radiating crimson wrath. That voice… is it the visitor from the other night? The aura is so intense that it looks like a flaming effigy. My hand instinctively reaches for my katana, but it only finds empty air. Not again!

“Mother wants to see you, Celestria.” His raspy voice calls out in a mock sing-song tone, punctuated by a twisted chuckle. The sense of déjà vu gives way to recognition, and with it, dread. It’s not the visitor from the other night. It’s something much worse — it’s him. The Stranger. He’s found me again! The burning silhouette begins to grow…

Shit! I can’t fight up here, I can barely tell where the bridge is! Before I can come up with a plan, he breaks into a sprint, heading right at me. I spin on my heel and start to run away, pushing off the glass with as much power as my legs can muster. The dizzying wind threatens to blow me off the narrow path again. His cackling is getting louder…!

A passing cloud blocks the moon and the reflection that guided my way suddenly disappears. The bridge becomes invisible. I keep running anyways – getting caught would be worse than dying. Please let it keep going straight ahead! Please let the light shine again! Please let me survive this! He’s so close, I can’t outrun him. What do I do!? Someone help me! My foot plunges through empty air and the sensation of weightlessness washes over me as I tumble down. I’m falling! The Stranger’s cackles are drowned by the wind tossing me around like a ragdoll. My eyes squeeze shut, but I can still imagine the earth rushing up towards me, closer and closer. This is it. I’ll die here. At least I got to see that wonderful view before I went…

…

“Your Highness, please wake up!”

My eyes snap open and I sit up, chest heaving, sweat trickling down my temples. My hand reaches to my hip and finds the smooth wooden finish of my katana’s hilt. My eyes snap back and forth like a whip, searching for the Stranger. He’s not there though. Just the open field I made camp in. The moon is gone and I can tell by the warm light washing over me that the sun is up. It was only a dream. A deep sigh of relief escapes me.

“Good morning, your Highness.” A familiar voice that only I can hear. It’s Athos. The little crow skips along the grass and stands beside me.

“… Good morning, Athos.” It takes me a second to catch my breath and respond. I offer him a pat on the head and he wiggles his tail feathers in appreciation.

“Please forgive me for startling you, my Queen, but something has come up.” His beak dips down towards the ground as he spreads his wings — did he just bow to me? Yes, I think he did. For a second, I wonder if I am still dreaming and pinch myself. It hurts. I am definitely awake, but my eyelids feel like iron weights.

“Is something wrong?”

“We are being pursued, your Highness. It seems the guards have learned of your escape.” The little crow points one wing in the direction of the settlement we fled from last night. It seems like I’m always on the run these days, whether I’m awake or asleep. Better get moving then. I slowly climb to my feet and brush the dirt off my dress.

“On the move again? But I hardly slept…” Now it’s Porthos’ turn to chime in. The black cat is curled up on a patch of grass with his eyes shut.

“We don’t have time for this, cat.” Athos chides him. Porthos opens one eye to glare at Athos and hisses at him.

“Porthos, you can nap later. We have to get out of here.” My command is stern. The feline leisurely stands up, arches his back, then saunters over. Now that I think about it, this is the first time I’ve seen him in the daylight. What striking eyes he has, like two vibrant rubies — a stark contrast to his pitch-black fur. Looks like I’ve acquired another handsome pet… now if only I could do something about that attitude of his.

“May I make a suggestion, my Queen?” Athos speaks up again and I give him a nod. “I found a cabin off in the woods to the north. I don’t think the guards will look for us there.” He flaps one of his wings as he explains, as if to better articulate himself.

“Alright then. Athos, take to the skies and lead us there.” My little crow companion responds immediately; with a skip, a hop, and a few flaps of his wings, he takes off, climbing into the sky with ease.

“Porthos, follow Athos and guide me.” The cat flicks his tail back and forth, annoyed, then looks away. I sigh and shake my head. “You can take a long nap once we get to safety.” I continue.

“Promise?” His tail stops, standing at attention.

“Yes, I promise.” With that, we set out, fleeing civilization, and wandering off into the wilderness to avoid capture. After some time, we enter the forest, and then after walking some more, we reach our destination; a rustic log cabin tucked into the forest.

I can’t help but admire the design – a flat face in front, home to two windows on either side of the front door along with a roof reaching up from the ground on either side to meet at the top. Very symmetrical aside from the haphazard patches of moss dotting its walls and the leafy vines stretching down from the roof. Maybe a witch lives here? An old hermit? Or perhaps it’s been deserted? Ooh, how wonderful that would be – a little witch cottage in the woods with nobody around to bother me. That would be a welcome change of pace. First thing’s first though.

“Porthos, it’s almost nap time. Would you do me a favor and scout that cabin? There is a window next to the front door, maybe you can see inside it?”

“… You’re going to make me climb now?” Porthos looks back over his shoulder and swishes his tail back and forth. “Why can’t you do it? You’re taller than I am, after all.” Well, he does have a point there.

“If someone’s home and they see me peering into their window, they might get spooked and tell us to keep walking. You wouldn’t want that, would you?” I smile as I wag my finger at him. Appealing to his interest seems to be the best way to persuade him.

“… Fine, I’ll check it out.” With that, Porthos approaches the building. Instead of going straight to the window, he disappears behind the cabin. A few moments later, he reappears out front again, but from the other side. Then he stops once to sniff the door a few times. Why does it seem like he’s done this before? Next, he leaps up onto the windowsill and peers inside.

“What do you see in there?” I ask.

“… I think there’s a dead guy inside. Well, maybe not dead. He could be asleep. Hard to tell. He’s not moving at all though.” Porthos responds. I nod my head and quietly approach the front door.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Hello? Is anybody home?” I call out. No response.

“He hasn’t moved. I think he’s dead.” Porthos comments. A sudden rush of air followed by a few stray feathers announces the return of Athos. He perches himself on a nearby tree limb, surveying the cabin.

“What was it that Trent used to say? Something like, ‘dead men don’t own anything,’ right?” I think to myself. Well, he was right. I wonder what Trent’s up to? Now, now, Seles, don’t get distracted. We don’t think about him anymore, remember?

Knock, knock, KNOCK.

Still no response. Well, breaking in could be forgiven if I save his life, right? On the other hand, I could get blamed for another crime I didn’t commit. Oh well. Time to roll the dice. I try the door handle. Why is it unlocked? That seems strange, although I don’t think he got many visitors out here. With a light push, the door swings open and I step inside the dwelling, Porthos following at my heel.

“I shall watch the door and warn you if anyone approaches, my Queen.” Athos says. Good thinking. I turn my attention to the cabin’s interior. It’s dark – not too many windows in here. Wait, didn’t I help myself to that guard’s lighter? My hand fishes around inside my satchel and my fingers close around cold metal – there it is. The cap flicks open and I thumb the wheel, igniting the wick. A soft orange flame sparks to life.

Now I can see things a bit better. Nearby, two candles and some scattered pieces of paper on a small table and a couple on the floor beside it. I step forward and light the candles, then pocket my lighter and continue to explore. I spot a shelf with some cookware next to a wood stove. On the other side of the room, there are bookshelves. His collection is pretty impressive — I haven’t seen this many books since Trent and I lived together. I wonder what he’s doing now? Damnit. Seles, we’ve been through this – you don’t think about him anymore. That’s twice today…

Back to the situation at hand. So far, this seems pretty typical some loner living out in the woods. Porthos stands nearby, tail standing at attention. I quietly walk over and take a closer look at the cabin’s lone inhabitant – an old man lying in bed. At least, I think he’s old – wrinkles line his pale face and his hair is mostly gray with a few streaks of black still holding out. Lucky guy though – seems like he’s managed to keep most of his hair. I’d guess he’s in his fifties? Yeah, that seems about right.

I don’t see any sort of aura around him. Maybe he died of natural causes? Well, better double check just to make sure, and so I place my hand in front of his face. It’s hard to tell, but I can feel the warmth of his breath against the back of my palm. He’s alive and breathing. Why didn’t he wake up when I knocked? This hermit must sleep like a rock if that didn’t startle him. Something’s not right here. I turn away from the bed and come face to face with a man standing directly beside me.

My heart leaps into my throat. Frantic, I grab the hilt of my katana and rip it from its scabbard, swinging it through the man’s midsection and cleaving him in two. Porthos jumps back and hisses at me. Athos squawks from outside and bursts through the open door, flying circles around the room.

“My Queen! Are you alright!?” He chirps away.

Wait a minute. Huh? The man’s still standing there. No bloody wound. He didn’t even flinch. My sword felt like it passed through thin air. Hold on a second. Am I seeing things again? I blink twice. It’s not a man after all – it’s just the aura of a man. A disembodied aura. Well, this is a first.

“So sorry, miss, I didn’t mean to spook you!” My heart continues to pound as the faint blue outline of a man quietly addresses me. Is it a ghost? Wait a second. I squint at the ghost for a second, then I look back over my shoulder at the old man, asleep in his bed.

“Perhaps I could ask a favor of you?” The shade points at the sleeping man. The puzzle pieces itself together. It’s the old man. Well, his aura, anyways, or maybe his essence would be a better way of putting it. I manage to nod my head a couple times.

“Can you try to wake me up? I seem to have gotten… stuck.” He addresses me politely.

“Uh… huh…” I manage to respond, then I turn towards the bed and poke the old man in the shoulder with the wooden scabbard of my sword. The sleeping hermit doesn’t wake up. I poke him again, harder this time. Nothing. The ghost standing beside me sighs, defeated.

“I was afraid something like this would happen one day. Seems like I am locked out of my own body.” He says, turning away from me with a sigh. He begins muttering to himself. Locked out of his body? That sounds familiar.

“What are you exactly?” I ask the shade. He turns around again.

“Good question. I guess you could call me a traveler, young lady. I have a special power – I can leave my body behind and freely travel the world. You are the second person I have met who can actually see me like this. It is a fantastic gift, but it seems to have… eh… backfired on me.” The shade offers his explanation.

“My Queen… who is it you are speaking to?” Athos’ voice in my head again.

“You can’t see him?” I think back.

“See who?” Athos responds. I look down at Porthos.

“There’s nobody here except the sleeping guy, lady. You crazy?” Porthos’ voice now. I shake my head. Okay. There is a transparent, blue man here that only I can see. Oh well. Stranger things have happened.

“There’s a spirit here.” I explain, then turn back towards the shade. Both of my familiars cock their heads to the side and stare at me in disbelief. Really? Why is that so hard for two magical familiars to believe? Sheesh.

“What do you mean you are locked out? It’s your body, isn’t it?” I ask him.

“It would appear that I’ve been possessed.” The shade says flatly, staring at the bed with a solemn expression. “While I was out, something moved in.” Now the puzzle pieces really start to fit together. This sounds like another case of Morosia. The memory of the white eyed assailant holding the severed heads of the mother and her children flashes through my mind and I shake my head to get it out of there. The shade offers me a quizzical expression.

“Today’s your lucky day then. I just happen to be an exorcist.” The shade’s eyebrows raise up – now it’s his turn to be surprised. I smirk at him.

“Young lady, if you can rid me of that parasite, I will be forever in your debt. Please, help me! I must see my beloved Larissa again…” The man’s voice trembles with urgency. He tries to grab my shoulders and plead with me, but his hands pass right on through. I wave him away, still smirking.

“Relax, old man. I’ll take care of it… but in return, you’ve got to promise to feed me and let me sleep here as long as I want.” The ghost shakes his head up and down with vigor. Porthos meows loudly.

“My pets too.” I add.

“Deal!” He says. I offer my hand for him to shake. He goes to take it, but once again, his hand passes right through me. Close enough. Time to get started. I take a seat next to the bed. After fishing around my satchel for a moment, I find it – the golden mirror. I place it on my lap and look down at it.

“Athos, Porthos – prepare yourselves. We’re going back to the dream world.”

---

The sensation of sinking is always unsettling. Gone are the little round windows of the quaint cottage. The two children and their sick mother have vanished from my sight, but not from my thoughts. I know what I need to do here, in the dream world.

That is what this place is: a world of dreams inside of the mother’s imagination. Almost everyone has dreams. Every dreamer stands on the doorstep of the infinite. That said, not all dreams are equal. Some are more in touch with their dreams than others. Some have big dreams while others have little dreams. All these things are reflected in the world that manifests itself inside the mind. Most have no control over their dreams and wander aimlessly.

I am an exception. Dreams are my domain. Nothing here is outside of my influence.

I am not the only exception though. There is another being here with power. The ignorant refer to something like this as a nightmare, but Morosia is more than that: it is a curse. Those afflicted are doomed to be consumed by a cunning parasite that preys upon their inner turmoil. When left unchecked, the victim will suffer and sleep until thirst or starvation claim their due. Any attempts to intervene through material means are hopeless. The only way to cure Morosia is to remove the parasite. That is what I am here for. My prize.

The sinking sensation stops, and I open my eyes to a cold world devoid of any sort of color. Surrounded by dismal houses and buildings, obscured by thick mist – could this be Hithe? It is hard for me to tell; after all, while in the waking world, my eyes can only see magic. The earth rumbles beneath me, signaling that the game is about to begin.

“Athos!” I call out and snap my fingers. A handful of falling feathers announce the arrival of my familiar: The Three-Eyed Raven, Athos. The vibrant violet sheen of his rich plumage provides a stark contrast against the dream world’s ubiquitous grayscale. I can feel three sets of talons dig into my skin, but I do not wince or cry out because I am familiar with pain and its purpose.

“At your service, my Queen.” Athos responds with his trademark orotund, gentlemanly tone as he settles onto my shoulder. Colors mix with the scarlet ink drawn from his talons before sweeping down to dye my clothes back to their original sky blue and cloud gray hues. The cobblestone street beneath my feet remains ashen and flat. Again, the earth grumbles impatiently and I infer that the mother has little time left alive.

“Keep your eyes peeled. I can feel it nearby.” I punctuate my statement by drawing my katana. The weapon introduces itself to the world with its telltale chime. The steel blade glistens and begins to pulsate iridescence as I tuck the scabbard into my sash. Holding my sword with both hands, I begin to walk down the street one careful step at a time, ready for the resident of this realm to reveal itself and attack. All is silent save for the soft plodding of my sandals against the road as building after non-descript building pass us by.

A cat meows. I stop walking and sweep the empty streets with an attentive gaze. I see nothing. Athos ruffles his feathers and remains silent. We stand and wait. Another meow, faint and yet still distinct, beckons us towards a tall building in front of us. The building is in the center of a square and looms head and shoulders above the others. Judging by its size, I guess it to be the town hall, or perhaps a court of law, if they were not one in the same. The cat call sounds again, more urgent this time. I glance at Athos out of the corner of my eye.

“What do you think?” I ask him. He ruffles his feathers and makes a clicking sound with his beak.

“I believe it is inside, my Queen.” He responds, then adds. “Be careful.” I nod in response and we slowly approach the massive wooden double doors of the town hall. I swipe my sword to the side and the doors swing inward as a sudden squall nearly rips them off their hinges. There is no hesitation on my part as I stride past the threshold with quiet confidence. We are greeted by a large, empty room filled with vacant benches facing a central altar. Perched atop the podium is a black cat leisurely flicking its tail, with its back turned towards us.  

“It is as you think, my Queen.” Athos identifies the unassuming feline as the source of the corruption. I point my sword at the parasite.

“There are two ways we can go about this, but they both end up with you as my pet.” As I speak, my voice begins to swell in volume until it reverberates throughout the entire hall. The feline seems unperturbed and does not respond. I march forward, staring the parasite down behind the length of my weapon. The earth begins to shake again and this time it does not stop.

“Submit to my power!” My shout rips through the hall and the windowpanes crack. The cat cocks its head back to stare at me with eyes that smolder like burning coal. Its lips peel back nonsensically wide and reveal not one, but four rows of stained black teeth.

“What power?” The cat’s fiendish smile remains fixed in place as a rasping, guttural voice booms throughout the hall. It hisses at us now, and as it does, it undergoes a monstrous growth spurt. The grinding of bone against bone fills my ears as the cat’s limbs elongate and contort one after another, then its chest swells like a balloon. The wooden altar soon collapses under the weight of the now enormous feline fiend. The demon turns to face me and its eyes ignite into a pair of bright orange flames. Stripes of fire send smoke signals up from its black pelt and its teeth click together as it chomps the empty air with its maw. My eyes narrow as I tilt my head back to meet the fiend’s gaze with a glare of my own, unperturbed.

“Goblin Cat.” I murmur to myself in a matter-of-fact tone. I recalled the name from a story Trent had read to me once about a wandering medicine vendor. Athos clicks his beak twice to signal his agreement: it is a Goblin Cat.

“My master told me you would come… too bad you and that squawking retch are barely a meal!” The parasite growls and the faintly perceptible tremors of the earth grow into a steady quaking. The roof of the town hall vanishes, revealing an inky, starless sky overhead. Next, the walls melt away, replaced by sheets of flame. I now find myself standing inside a towering ring of fire: a fitting arena. The tip of my katana points towards the floor as I assume a low guard.

“You’re about to have a new master, furball.” I challenge back with a smirk. That sets it off; it begins to hiss, enraged, and I can see a light glowing from inside of its open maw. I recognize it as fire just before a massive tongue of flame erupts from behind its rows of razor-sharp fangs. My sword carves a semi-circle in the air before me and a shimmering sheet of ice springs up from the ground below, shielding us from the burst of fire without issue. The tip of my blade dances high over my head before it falls in a graceful stroke, shattering the wall of ice into little knives and propelling them towards the Goblin Cat.

“Pathetic!” The Goblin Cat leers back and swipes one massive paw through the air, leaving a lingering trail of fire in its wake. The ice fragments melt before they reach their target. Now the fiend plants both of its front paws against the ground and the circle of fire surrounding us flares up. A bead of sweat drips down my brow as the temperature climbs and I recognize that the walls of the arena are constricting. This is turning out to be a fun game.

“My Queen, the ground!” Athos cries out in warning. Lava. The ground beneath the Goblin Cat’s paws melts into molten lava and begins to creeps towards my feet. Time is running out.  I raise my sword overhead now, assuming a high guard, ready to bring it down with all of my strength. The Goblin Cat does not try to close the gap but instead maintains the distance between us, eyeing the iridescent blade wearily. Interesting. It must know the secret of my sword. Fortunately, I have many more.

“Ascend, Athos!” My command is issued. With a burst of purple feathers, Athos and his wings expand outwards, suddenly reaching several arm’s lengths away on each side. Warmth envelopes me as his talons fuse into my shoulder. I crouch down, and as the molten cobblestone is about to entrap us, we take off into the air with several powerful gusts from Athos’ wings. We’re not out of the clear yet – as we soar higher and higher with each flap, the wall of flames surrounding us seems to grow taller. I continue to ascend straight up into the sky, piercing the ink’s dim veil. Higher and higher still, until finally…

“The Moon.” There it is. A full moon, glowing boldly above the parasite’s miasma. I outstretch my hand and it begins to grow larger, not because we are continuing to fly higher, but because I am pulling the moon towards us. The Goblin Cat’s howls grow faint, blotted out by a new sound: the rush of flowing water. I look down from our lofty perch in the sky, glaring at the dot of fire burning in the darkness below. Dreams are my domain, you worm.

“Drown.” My lips part to utter a single word that shakes the entire world. The moonlight illuminates an amorphous mass surging far beneath us: a tidal wave sweeping the land below, large enough to be seen from thousands of feet above. The waters dwarf the pitiful ring of fire and the Goblin Cat’s frightened yowls are dashed asunder as the tsunami breaks and crashes. The water spreads and soon there is no earth beneath us; only calm waters reflecting the light of the moon back into the sky. I remove my scabbard from my belt and hold it with one hand as I hold my katana in the other.

“Release.” I issue my order to Athos. My wings disappear and I so I plummet. I let gravity pull me down, headfirst towards the water’s surface. The wind whips about me and as I fall, I shed my clothes like a snake shedding old skin. I press my legs together as they fuse into a tail complete with two iridescent fins and matching scales. My lungs grow gills. Not a moment after my transformation is complete, I pierce the water’s surface with the tip of my katana and slide into the icy depths, now a mermaid with sword and scabbard in hand.

“Find it.” I issue my command to Athos by speaking directly to his mind. Moments later, a pillar of illumination penetrates the deeps. Propelled by my powerful new tail and fins, I dart through the water towards the light like a shark approaching prey. Then I see it come into view – the Goblin Cat, floundering helplessly in the depths of this all-encompassing ocean. Gone are its stripes of fire and its eyes, once burning with malice, are now wide and fearful.

“It’ll be over soon.” I taunt the terrified parasite. Its head snaps towards me as it frantically claws at the water, trying desperately to mount a defense. A futile gesture; as I hurdle past the parasite, I cleave its outstretched paw clean from its forearm. Crimson blossoms from the wound, dissipating into the water, and a mass of bubbles erupt from the Goblin Cat’s maw as it cries out in pain. No longer able to hold its breath, it begins to inhale the icy water and drown. The blade of my katana, once iridescent, now begins to turn blood red. I turn, facing the Goblin Cat once more and pointing the opening of my empty scabbard towards it, concentrating. The blade of my katana is now a bright, burning crimson color. It enjoys the taste of magic.

“You’re mine now.” With those words, the Goblin Cat begins to shrink as it is pulled towards me by the undeniable force that is my will. It continues to paw the water helplessly until its silhouette deteriorates into a dark, shapeless cloud of malevolent intent. The spirit is drawn into the sheath of my sword much like a helpless ship caught in an epic whirlpool. Once the Goblin Cat is inside, I slam my sword back into its sheath.

A blinding light causes me to squint and glare: the setting sun. I’m back in the cottage now, staring down at the golden mirror resting on my lap. I blink twice before I look up to meet the gaze of the little boy and the little girl who had implored me for help. I take a deep breath and taste the crisp, autumn air. A pang of regret as I realize I no longer have gills, scales, or a tail. This is quickly washed away by the sight of the mother, now sitting upright in bed, gasping for air. The two children immediately rush the bedside and throw themselves on top of her, smothering her with affection. I allow myself a small smile as I look upon the reunited family with a melancholic gaze.

“So that is what a happy family looks like…” I murmur to myself.

“Yes, my Queen. Your magnificence is unlimited.” I can hear the voice of Athos addressing me using our mental link now and I chuckle inwardly. While a bit corny at times, Athos is certainly a marvelous retainer fit for a queen. I look down at the mirror in my lap and nod. For a brief moment, I see the shape of a bird as the light catches upon its surface. Then, I see the shape of a small cat beside it. That’s right. I have a new pet. A new pet needs a name, too. After all, Goblin Cat is not very catchy.

“You as well, Athos. Please introduce yourself to our new companion, Aramis.” I think, then stifle a yawn. I look up at the reunited family with tired eyes.

“Do you mind if I take a nap?” I ask, my eyes growing heavier by the second. Without realizing it, I find myself drifting off into a deep slumber of my own. Perhaps I will have a better dream this time.

A BLACK CAT AND A BAD DREAM
Written by Jungle.
© 2021, all rights reserved.

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