End of Dreams

[Niethan]

Three travelers stood on a quartered plain, Zasien's call to the elements giving the nothing form. They were here because a resolution was needed; Niethan, Witness, and Moment were going to tear each other apart without one.

One by one, the three picked a direction, and began.

[Niethan]

Zasien dreamed of ash.

It puffed and plumed under his heavy footsteps, softening the noise to a quiet thup, thup, thup. Before long, even that ceased as the ash gave way to hot, wet earth. The grey nothing became the darkness between trees, and the air full of hanging vines. Zasien, hammer ready just in case, called out.

Moment answered with a growl, silouette body stalking out of the undergrowth to pace around the shaman. Zasien backed away cautiously, and turned to catch a sliver of movement to the side. A web hung among the vines, strung of glowing stands of magic. Zasien examined it curiously, keeping an eye on the predator. "What kind of magic could exist in your savage mind...?"

The web lashed out like a snare, catching the Shaman's wrist and pulling him closer. He grunted, grabbing for his hammer to try and snap the strands by force. Moment was already in motion, leaping across the patch of earth with claws bared. Zasien cursed, bringing his mace around to switch targets--

Moment's claws shredded through the webs, their edges burning into soot and fluttering down, soaking into the dirt. The creature turned its red eyes on Zasien, silently watching him. The shaman lowered his weapon.

"You protected me. Why?"

Moment didn't answer. Instead, he slunk forward and brought the arch of his neck under the shaman's fingers. At the touch, Zasien felt a wave of guilt, remorse, and an aching self-loathing. The shaman made a confused noise, and Moment pulled away. He began walking farther into the jungle.

Zasien followed, trying to speak to the shadow.

"Can you understand me? Where are we going?"

Moment ignored the questions. The thinning trees and reddening light played shadows on his pelt, which all too often looked like screaming faces. Soon, the trees stopped altogether. Moment led Zasien to the ruins of an empty trollish village, silent under a rusted sun.

Zasien glanced down. They were walking over a carpet of bones. Moment stopped, and pawed at a skull sadly.

"...why are all these here?" Moment, of course, didn't answer. He merely hung his head. Zasien looked away, uncomfortably. There wasn't the sound of a living thing for miles. There was just him, the dead, and the pall of regret.

"Oh, Moment. You don't have to live this way. It isn't your fault."

Moment glanced up, feline eyes flat and dead with sorrow. He made a pained whine in his throat.

"You're a creature of instinct, everyone is. You don't need to regret surviving."

Moment shied away, then approached the kneeling shaman, timid and full of animal shyness. The land was greying out, returning to fog and silence.

"Moment. You need to live on. Don't die inside."

Moment unraveled into stars and shadows. His dream ended.

[Niethan]

Vilmah dreamed of dust, and it could be said that Witness dreamed of Vilmah.

He felt a tugging on a web, one of the many strands he'd woven throughout thier tripled conciousness in his attempts to strangle his fellows. He watched from behind a pillar as the bandaged orc dropped down into his city of glass and alabaster.

What is Bloodborne doing here...? He wasn't surprised when she called out to him. A visitor was unexpected and perhaps unwelcomed, but...

What's this? Not a fly in my web, but a visitor...? Hello Bloodborne. What are you doing here?

SHe spun to face him as he appeared from behind one of the buildings. "Oh! Witness! Hello..."

She was nervous. Her hands trembled and her eyes were wide with wonder and trepidation. Witness smiled to try and ease her nerves, and explained to her the place she was in.

All of this here is a representation of our- Niethan's- mind. These buildings, for example, hold memories, thoughts, and feelings associated with their indicated subject. How quaint, they had stopped outside the structure primly labeled, "Vilmah Bloodborne".

"Witness... we've been speaking to Muir..."

He knew the name. Who?

The air began turning colder. Frost was sliding over the glass floor of the nothing. She started in with the speech of how the three were suppose to be. That the three needed to live as one.

How dissappointing. Bloodbreaze had failed to kill them, the Frostbite had failed to kill them, Zargoth and a hundred attempts by Witness himself had failed. And now here was Bloodborne, trying to keep them alive. She needed to understand that there was no life.

Bloodborne. Do you know where Bloodbreaze put me, when he tore me away?

She shook her head. Witness felt a hot spike of rage cleave the ice of his mind. He turned it outwards, and the white city erupted into flame. She screamed for him to stop, that she understood. Witness knew better.

Unlike you, I have no nerves to kill by pain! You wanted to end, so do not deny me the silence of death!

"I did! In my moment of weakness, I wanted death. But I know better, and you don't have to go that way!"

He extinguished the flames. She still held for hope. So, if not the fire...

Witness stared in silence for a moment. If you do this, Bloodbreaze, Niethan will be gone. All of us will be dead. And there are so many things he has never said. She blinked at him in confusion, then turned to the structure with her name. It's door was closed.

Witness prodded, speaking cruelty and reason. But Bloodborne would not be swayed. "Those are his thoughts. It wouldn't be right for me to see them."

Oh, Bloodborne... He froze over. He had to.

You are so easily distracted.

A thread of thought whipped out, dragging her down and pulling her to the ice. She screamed, "Witness! What are you doing!"

I'm killing us. The ice was cutting into her legs, now. Why hadn't she gone for her axe? He was murdering her.

Just-- just fight back! You have an axe, use it!

She screamed in frustration, and lashed out-- not with her axe, but her hand. She tore the plaquard with her name from the wall. "Is this what you wanted, to see me lose my temper?!" She hacked at the ice with her name. It broke and withered, retreating.

Witness regarded her in silence. At a loss, he picked up the discarded plaque with trembling fingers. Vilmah was staring at the building. Her name was carved again beneath the shadow of the board, this time not sterile or white as the rest of the surroundings. It had been carved with a loving hand, gilt-edged and devoted.

"...why is it so pretty?"

Witness snorted, feeling the throat he didn't own tighten in bitterness. I suppose you'll never know, now. He placed the plain, safe plaquard back over the carving, hiding it again.

"Witness... do you and Niethan share emotions?"

Do you see any other buildings around here? No, there aren't. I just pick up the negative ones first.

"You and Wrath... you're a lot alike, you know?"

He nodded. He didn't have eyes to cry, so it was all he could do. We were the same, in the begining. But Wrath ended, and we-- we just kept going. We couldn't stop. I tried not to let it get so bad, but... the way I'm made, there's only so many different endings. I saw the way things would keep going, but I couldn't stop it.

The city was fading, turning back to glass and fog. He could feel his thoughts unraveling.

I... I would like a change of pace... but I don't want to go alone.

"You won't be alone, Witness. I promise."

He closed his eyes to the sound of her voice, falling apart like snowflakes.

Witness's dream ended.

[Niethan]

Zusteakai dreamed of water, because Niethan dreamed of the sea.

He sank down through water thin and breathable as air, and the currants carried him to the mouth of a cave. Peering inside, he saw walls lined with softly glowing coral, white sand floors and distance into black. Seeing little else to do, he stepped inside.

It wasn’t long before he heard padding footsteps ahead, light and muffled further by the sand. A voice called out, “W-who’s there?”

Zusteakai stopped. He recognized the voice, though it sounded younger than what he knew. “A friend. A brother.”

“My brother’s dead.”

“…more importantly, someone who cares.”

The footsteps shuffled, then around the corner edged a young troll, no older than ten or thirteen. He had a mess of dark hair floating lazily in the water, a mottled skintone turned faint blue by the light, and red eyes full of curiosity and secrets. “You’re not supposed to be here. Nobody is.”

“You’re here.”

“Well… it’s safer in here.” The child-Niethan, padded closer, losing his fear of the intruder. Zusteakai smiled, thinking that perhaps this would be easier than he had thought. “Niethan, do you remember—“

“There’s no memory here. Nothing new, anyway.” He smiled at the taken-aback troll. “You want me to show you around? This place is pretty neat.” At the hesitant nod, he reached for Zusteakai’s wrist and pulled him down the corridor. Soon they were lost in the twists and turns. “This is a maze…” Zusteakai murmured.

Niethan happily answered. “See, that’s what I thought, too. But a maze goes somewhere. This just goes on and on.”

Zust didn’t respond, and instead continued admiring the coral. This place was full of soft light and gentle silence, and restful… He stopped. “Niethan. How did we get here?”

Niethan shrugged. “We walked, silly.”

Zusteakai shook his head, leaning back against the wall. “There… there was something I was doing. Something I had to do.” He paused, thinking. “It was important.”

Niethan smiled. “Does it really matter?”

“No… no, I suppose it doesn’t.” He pushed away from the wall, and they started walking again. There was always more to see, here. But for once, when the two rounded a bend in the caverns, they encountered something truly new. A small gash in the coral, where the wall was dented, or perhaps cut. Zusteakai was incensed.

“What! Who would do this? I like this coral!” He settled back against the opposite wall, glaring at the gash. Niethan fidgeted nervously. “It- it’s not important. C’mon, let’s go.” He tugged on the older troll’s cuff, and Zusteakai followed along.

The coral sang, as Niethan explained. If you listened. The whole mess of sprawling caverns was filled with a quiet lullaby, soft-edged and soothing. They listened as they walked, and rounded another bend. In this corridor, there were two gashes, one on each side of the wall. Zusteakai fumed at them, and Niethan tried to pull him away.

“Alright, alright… hey, hold on. This armor is uncomfortable.” He unbuckled the straps so rarely undone that they were almost stuck, and set the metal against the wall. His polearm he leaned against the coral as well. Niethan grinned. “That’s better! You don’t need it in here, anyway.” He tugged again at Zusteakai’s wrist, and led him into the deeps.

They turned an unfamiliar bend, and Zusteakai slowed, then stopped. There were large, cumbersome pieces of coral half-embedded into the wall. The largest piece looked like part of a torso. He stared at it, a horrible feeling of panic beating against his ribs. But he couldn’t place what it belonged to, or why he would be afraid…

A glint of metal, from high up on the wall broke the fog clouding his mind. “That’s… that’s my armor! My spear… gods, what am I doing?!” He clawed at the coral, but it cut his hands. He glares at it, then grabbed for the haft of his spear, only partially absorbed into the maze. He wrenched it out, and began hacking at the wall. Niethan stepped back, terrified of the sudden change. “Stop! Stop it! Please!”

“Niethan—“ *hack* “—we need—“ *smash* “—to go!”

He stabbed at the wall, feeling the point pierce through and into the other side. A cloud of black filtered through the hole, billowing in the water. Niethan turned and ran. Zusteakai tried to follow, thrashing at the suddenly thickened saline, before the glow of the coral was extinguished by the cloud. He fought against it, trying to follow the receding footsteps—

“Hey! Zust!”

He blinked. He was shielding his eyes against sunlight. He put his arms down, gawking at the scene before him. It looked like a field of grassy hills, golden under the sun and cool breeze. Lying on a grassy hillock not ten feet away was Niethan, older than the cavern-child and looking at him with a bemused smile. Niethan’s scrapped-together armor was lying neatly by his side as he chewed on a piece of grass. “Niethan…”
He chuckled. “Ya, me. What are you doing in full dress, already? Meeting’s na for another three hours, yet.”

Zusteakai blinked. “Meeting…?

“Yes, meeting. You know, the one we’re supposed to be present for? Along with the other major guilds?” He tilted his head, looking at Zust a little worriedly. “The new treaty, ‘tween Thrall and Proudmoore?”

Zusteakai sputtered a bit, looking around in confusion. He was in full armor again, only this time polished and almost ceremonial. And Niethan was talking about a peace treaty.

“Don’t tell me you’re hungover from celebrating? Bad habit, mon. Maybe you shoul’ stop by home an’ ask your wife for a cup of black coffee.”

Zusteakai felt the blood drain from his face. He choked out an answer, and Niethan kept talking. He sputtered out questions and answers, but Niethan only seemed worried. He advised that Zust go home and rest. He was tired. But…

This wasn’t real. They weren’t in Westfall, they were in Ashenvale. The Horde and the Alliance were still hostile. His wife had been dead for years.

“C’mon, Zust. Let’s get you to bed, you coul’ use the rest.”

Zusteakai looked up, feeling Niethan’s hands on his shoulder, trying to lead him away. Everything he wanted, everything he dreamed and worked for was here.

“No.”

The sun shattered. Zusteakai closed his eyes against the shards, and opened them on the dim insides of a tavern. The room was silent, the fire dead, the tables and chairs empty and the air full of dreamsmoke. Niethan sat at a table, his head buried in his arms. Zusteakai walked over, taking the seat next to him. He recognized the sound of someone crying.

“W-what do you want? You won’t let me forget, and you won’t let me push it away, so what?”

He sighed, placing one hand on Niethan’s shoulder. “I want you to be whole. I want you to stop hurting.”

Niethan’s shoulder’s trembled. He whispered, “I’m afraid.”

“You don’t have to be, Niethan. I’m right here. It's going to be okay.” He paused, watching Niethan fade. “This isn’t goodbye, Niethan. It’s hello.”

The shoulder under Zusteakai’s palm crumbled into seasalt and sunlight. The dream faded.

Niethan ended.