Page 35 of Blood Red Woes

I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this.

I close the journal, tuck it into my bag, and go to sleep.

I stand in a dark world, alone. There is no sun above my head, and yet when I look up, I can see the skies are made of billowing black clouds, white lightning bolts shooting through them every few seconds, their course random but noiseless. An impossible storm rages over my head.

The ground is black water, wet and deep, but I don’t sink through it. I stand on it, my dirty shoes floating just above the water, where it can’t touch me. Just from looking at it, I can see how thick and viscous it is. If given the chance, it would swallow me up and fill my lungs, kill me without hesitation.

This… what is this? Where am I?

A deep, vengeful voice speaks behind me, “You believe. You hope. You persist. Those emotions make you weak, for you will soon see I am the fate that awaits you.” As it talks, its low, gravelly tone crawls over me and makes me shiver. Like nails on a chalkboard or forks scraping against a plate.

And yet… it’s also like honey, smooth and welcoming. Enticing even though it shouldn’t be. The voice is mesmerizing, and I want to close my eyes and surrender to it, an instinctive reaction.

But one I fight. As tempting as it sounds, I know the root of it is pure evil, and I might be a lazy motherfucker, but I will not let this darkness have me.

I turn around and shout, “Who are you?” I see nothing but eternity stretching on before me, a vast emptiness. More water below, more storms in the sky above. In the distance, they meet, turning into a pitch blackness that threatens to swallow me.

“I am—”

“Death, destruction, blah, blah, blah,” I say as I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I figured that out. I mean, if you’re such a baddie, why don’t you stop hiding and come out already, huh? Stop with this creeper act and just do something already.”This is new to me, and yet it feels so familiar, like I’ve been here before, heard all of this before.

The voice turns into a growl that echoes in the space behind me—but when I turn around again, I see nothing. “Petulant child of man. You will see just how hopeless your journey is. Nothing you do can turn the tide. It is already against you, surging at your feet.”

My feet suddenly feel wet, and I glance down to see the water has started to rise. It moves up over my feet, all the way up to my ankles.

Something cold and black coils around my neck, slithering like a snake with no scales. I gasp. The voice is behind me, so low and unearthly it instantly gives rise to goosebumps on my arms as it whispers, “You will fall, and on that day I will rise.”

I don’t have the voice to ask who it’s talking about. More shadow coils curl around me. My arms, my waist, my wrists. It’s almost too much to fight, like the shadows themselves beckon me, pleading, promising that if I let them in they won’t hurt me.

They’re liars, though, and the last thing I tell the shadow behind me involves two words: “Fuck you.”

I wake with a start, my heart pounding. I check myself and find no shadows remain, no seductive coils of evil whispers to be seen. My feet are dry, and I’m okay. I’m okay. That dream… it was the most vivid one I had yet, and it brings to the forefront of my mind all the other dreams I’ve had, the ones that I can hardly remember.

Strange. It’s almost like the dreams are getting stronger.Not so long ago I couldn’t remember anything after waking, but now… things are changing.

I pick up all my things after eating a quick breakfast, and then I get on with it. Back to it. I try not to let the dream bother me, but this one sticks with me. I don’t forget it as the day goes on. Something about it… something about what it was saying to me makes me think it’s connected.

To what?

To everything. To the empresses’ madness. To the woes. To the plague, the blight, and the scourge.

Does everyone who’s left in Laconia dream of that thing, or is it just me? And if it’s just me, why? Why me?

I try not to think about it as I venture deeper into Acadia.

Days go by. The river I travel on takes on the mouths of other rivers and creeks, growing larger, its current harder. It helps me propel along faster, surfing along at a breakneck speed. I do an awful lot of complaining to Rune—this journey is taking forever and I’m tired of it already—and on the seventh day I see it.

The river empties into a basin, and I coast to a stop, hovering on top of the water as I stare at the giant stone structure a few miles away.

Sitting in the middle of the flattest field I’ve ever seen, surrounded by water basins that curve around the outer stone wall like a moat, I see Acadia’s castle. It’s big, even from this far away. Spires and towers curl toward the sky, old stone that appears black from this distance.

“Acadia’s castle,” Rune comments. “Its beauty is overshadowed by the void that surrounds it. I would be careful as I approach, if I were you. We do not know what waits for us beyond the gates.”

I swallow hard as I resume my surfing. I get as close to it as I can on the water before I jump off. My stomach is in knots asI approach the castle’s gates. Large wooden doors that put the main doors to Laconia to shame. I have to crane my head back to study the whole thing. My ears hear nothing but the sound of running water.

This isn’t right. This doesn’t feel right at all.

I’m ten feet away from the gate, but for some reason I can’t shake that nagging feeling. I turn around as I shake my head and say, “No, something isn’t right here.”

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