The Day My Dream Died

9 - Brood

— 9 —

Brood

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    Lise stands frozen in the doorframe, unable to turn her eyes from the brilliant light. It must be near fifty of them, all grouped together in this room. Drifting around the room, floating at waist height, still unblemished by fiends. Children, she realizes. I'm to protect them?

    She feels relief, to have something she is confident she can accomplish. Just keep these innocents safe while Elineal takes care of purging the mass of fiends. This must have been why she had been unable to do so already, she thinks; stretched too thin, trying to save everyone by herself. But with help... It's the same difficulty she herself had dealt with in each village and town she passed through.

    A tension that was within her since leaving home eases, and strangely, she finds herself smiling. Her doubts about Elineal seem petty in retrospect. The desperation of one struggling alone is all too familiar, and she should have been more sympathetic. Not to mention the piercing truth which casts the whole situation in horrible contrast.

    I must stay mindful of my responsibility. Too easy to lose direction in this circumstance.

    Looking upon the group of lights, watching as they flit about each other, she wishes she could see them as they were in reality. It seems so long since she's seen children unbowed by the fiends' influence. It is purifying, to bathe in their untainted light. So pristine, and so quick to tarnish. Children are the first to go, if unguarded.

    Lise draws her eyes from the captivating glow to examine the room. It appears... strange, at first glance. And with each successive glance, the stranger it appears. The walls to either side slant outwards and the ceiling arcs over. Further back, the walls straighten and the curved ceiling flattens. The back wall is the most concerning part; it is blank white. Neither light nor shadow touch it as they do the rest of the room.

    She approaches it, careful to avoid the flitting forms of the children. What is it with these weird rooms? The detail of the floor and the other walls slowly becomes more pronounced. Large slabs of stone make up the floor; the walls are wood, dyed a weathered red, grain swirling together in a way she has never observed in nature. Is it arbitrary? She wonders, Probably not. There must be some significance, I just haven't realized it. Yet.

    The back wall is a perfect square of white. Lise looks at it, trying to find the detail which is so present in the rest of the room. She can even see the children's bedrolls, as impermanent as they are. But this wall, is nothing. Near enough now that it encompasses her sight, she looks into it. Her eyes find no grounding details. Her fingers find... no wall at all.

    Lise draws back her hand, this is... empty space. An opening in the undermind where reality doesn't reach. There was another empty space like this in Opis Luma and she'd been allowed access once; she'd been inside it twice. Her legs tremble, threatening to buckle. Breath coming short, she steps back. Calm... She breathes deep, trying to stop her shaking.

    A form emerges from the emptiness, startling her. Before she realizes what she's doing, her axe is in her hands. But it is merely the form of another child. She curses, releasing the axe; it blinks out.

    Then she recognizes that this form is different from the other children. It has shape and color. A loose representation, like an artist's stylized rendition of a child. It's on the edge of dwelling. So young, and already so near. Lise was considered young for a dweller when she'd attained it at thirteen, but—based on height—this child can't be much more than five years old. For a moment, she just stares, uncertain how to react to this new element. Not just the child, but the empty space as well.

    She shudders as the child walks through her. Its warmth suffuses her for that brief moment. Coming into contact with it, she gets a sense for the person on the other side of this reflection. A boy. Joyful, unassuming. Deeper, she presses. There... At his center, fiendish resentment skulks, waiting for him to slip.

    Lise gasps, drawing herself from him. Potential... She turns, taking a second look at the boy. He is older than she first guessed, but not by much. The way he moves past the other children says a lot. This is the one left in charge of the rest—probably the eldest.

    She shakes her head, making her way back to the front of the room. Later. First priority is securing the structure.