Page 10 of Skalterra By Nightmare
“It’s okay!” Ferrin stepped forward. “It’s so we can talk without you running.”
“I’m atree!” I screamed.
This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real.
So why did it all feel so vivid?
“No, you’re a Nightmare,” Galahad said. “I constructed you this way for your own safety.”
He glared at Orla, who blushed.
“You’re the nightmare,” I shot back. “Mynightmare. This isn’t real.”
Ferrin laughed.
“In a way, yes. We are your nightmare, but we’re sorry to say that we are just as real as you.”
“I’m a tree!” I twisted my torso, trying to break free of the bark.
“A birch, by the looks of things,” Orla piped up, peering at me from behind Ferrin. “Interesting choice, though we shouldn’t be surprised considering the hair.”
I thought she was taking a dig at my undercut, and my hand slapped to the base of my neck in defense of the hairstyle. However, the undercut was gone, replaced by thick blue tresses.
“I did notchooseto be a tree!” I snarled.
“No, but you chose to be a birch, and the blue hair was your choice too, whether you realize it or not. That’s what Nightmares do. They take on their ideal form, so your ideal tree must be a birch, the same way your ideal hair is blue. Nightmares taking on their ideal forms makes for faster, stronger soldiers!”
I had never considered dying my hair, but I remembered Gams beaming over her blue chickens earlier that morning.“Von Leer colors!”she’d proudly explained.
“Why do you keep calling me a nightmare?” I demanded.
Galahad pulled his goggles down over his eyes. His hand glowed silver, and dirt pooled itself at his feet, growing taller and taller, until it had surpassed him in height. Clay hardened into skin and chainmail, and a person stood before us, his face blank and passive.
“This is a Nightmare.” Galahad pushed his goggles back up to better survey his creation. “They’re made of dust, Skal, and the sleeping consciousnesses of the people in your world. We use them as soldiers to cut back on bloodshed.”
There was something off-putting and vaguely horrible about the man in front of me.
“What’s wrong with him?” I asked. He hadn’t so much as blinked yet. Granted, he at least wasn’t half-tree, so he was doing better than I was.
“This is how they’re supposed to be, trapped in a dream-state. Pliable, easy to control, and immune to pain.” Galahad gave the man a shove. He wavered under the hit, but remained passive and ready. “The real question is, what’s wrong withyou?”
“His mind is asleep?” I waved a hand in front of his face. “And mine isn’t? Even though my real body is?”
“Nightmares aren’t fully aware of what’s happening. It makes them obedient and fearless. Good things to have in a soldier.”
“Until they end up lucid!” Orla interjected. “Like you!”
“And in seventy-two years, I’ve only ever seen one before now,” Galahad added. “It’s not supposed to happen.”
I frowned, wondering if I’d also been a blank-faced golem before I’d woken up on top of that fort.
No.
No, I couldn’t have been, because this wasn’t real. It was all made up. I was stressed. It had been a matter of time before all my anxiety caught up to me like this.
“How do they get back to their bodies?” I asked, staring at the glassy-eyed soldier.
There was a flash of silver fire as Galahad procured a short blade from the air and dug it into the soldier’s chest. The man gave a gentle gasp, then dissipated into ash, clothing and all.
