Chapter Text
This is Jon, Lead Archivist of the Magnus Institute. I had another bad dream again. They seem to be normal now. It was a vivid dream. In my dream I woke up and wrote the most absurd tale in my dream journal. There was an evil teacher in a high school dressed in a space suit. The teacher electrocuted my research assistants one by one until it was just Martin and I left. We stumbled through a door deep in the archives and landed in a river of milk. We swam the rough current to the cookie crumb shore. I knew it had to be cookie crumbs as Martin tasted it against my protestations. They were all over his face and I had to wipe them off, because he is an imbecile. It seemed to me that no matter how much direction I gave he never could find the crumbs close to his mouth. Maybe it was that place that led to confusion. It was cold. There were large ice cream sculptures thrown about like sand dunes.
We traveled along until the cookie crumbs gave way to a frozen waste land. It looked like the moon, but there was a curious brittle quality to the ground. We saw a door just on the other end. I made Martin travel behind me as I knew where to step, and he could follow my footsteps. It did not go as planned. Martin fell through. He must not have stepped properly. I waited for him to surface for a second or two. Nothing. I started walking towards him. Still nothing. I panicked at that point. I sprinted towards where he fell and dived in. I saw where he was, but then everything went dark. Just for 10 seconds. I kept swimming in his direction and finally I felt his arm. When I pulled him close to me the light came back. The top was sealed. I dragged him up, and felt the solid barrier blocking us from surfacing. He was unconscious. I couldn’t lose another assistant. Not again. I started banging and banging on the crust. No movement. It was like a translucent rock. Now I might die. Hmm. What to do. I swam to another spot. Martin might not make it. I banged and banged on the rock. Then I knew. I let go. I breathed in the water and there was a powerful burn in my chest as it was filled with this fluid. I breathed out, and in. The water was fine in my chest. It felt like a solid pressure in me. I grabbed Martin and yelled breathe! Breathe! I felt his chest. He must have breathed in. Why is this not working? I screamed and pounded against the rock. Finally, I tried going down. I went down for what seemed like 5 minutes with Martin pressed against my back. I didn’t know if he was alive. I still wanted to keep him with me though. I didn’t want to leave him there. Down I swam and it got warmer and warmer. That was odd. I saw a film at the bottom. Like an oil spill. Rainbow in a metal way.
We broke through and I placed him on the ground. I did compressions and after 3 he coughed and woke up. He looked around wide eyed as they began to fill with fire. Out from his eyes a radiant burst of fire engulfed his flesh. He screamed and his skin expanded to reveal pulsating lava. “The flame!” he yelled as he burned. I looked in astonishment and horror as I saw the flames on the water, the rivers of lava. Martin looked at me and I trembled. I am not afraid to die, but I want him to live. He is my last assistant.
“We are almost there archivist! We are almost ready for the ritual! Just 20 years now. We will have the END” stuttered many maddening low pitched voices as they emanated from Martin. The flames retreated from his eyes as Martin opened his. Magma pouring out of his veins. “I actually feel fine” he said. He walked towards me and took my hand. It burned and he stepped closer and the heat pulsated in flows of ghastly white and blue flames. I couldn’t move. His heat was affecting me in such a way that I was trapped in an eternal flame. I was burning. It hurt as bad as when I shook hands with a member of the lightless flame. Agony. I could feel the magma inside grow from my heart, exiting through my veins, and busting my capillaries until there was nothing left except emanating heat. He stepped closer and closer until he was inches away. I could do nothing. He pressed against me and we fell back into the iron rainbow of water. We cooled down together until we were nothing but blocks of carbon. Statues. We landed on the crust. Connected and unmoving. Completely stone. Then I woke up in my dream and wrote this tale down, and Jared broke into my apartment and stole my journal. Just now. He said, “You better break that bone” and left. What the fuck. What the actual fuck. Then I woke up for real and realized what he meant. I will not speak on it. Let’s just say I took a cold shower. What the fuck.