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It’s been several months since his last episode.
What else could it be? It’s all the tell-tale signs, yet the student never expected that the end-of-the-year school stress had gotten to them so severely that it would trigger sleep paralysis.
Sevens, what is that constant buzz?
His eyes shot open from the rumble that reverberates him out of the dream. It was too pleasant, like most good dreams are, and is trying to slip out of his grip. It escapes his memory once he scans the room. And enters the nightmare.
This is new.
Usually during his episodes, he finds himself in his room, obviously he would, it’s the last place he was awake before retiring for the night. What happened before? Did he crash from a study session in the dorm lounge? That’s not like him at all. This student may not be the highest ranking in grades, or have much social standing in the pecking order in Diasomnia, but he prides himself to not fall behind enough to need to study out in the open, and certainly wouldn’t allow himself to shame his dormleader by dozing off-
Where is that noise coming from?
The slate grey tile flooring is no place to find oneself after sleeping so soundly. When was the last time someone dusted the rafters of the dorm anyways? He hopes this will pass soon; he’d rather not stare at the ceiling for the whole duration of this episode…
This isn’t a nightmare; he’s experienced enough sleep paralysis nights to be acquainted with the pressure that pins him down like a butterfly specimen. The heaviness has his breathing go shallow, his body asleep and mind alert. The student would’ve brushed off the annoyance of another episode and talk himself down from the initial panic if it wasn’t so-
Off.
Where was he before? The last thing he recalls is- that’s right! Vice Dormleader Lilia’s party! What a turnout, practically the whole student body was packed into their quiet dorm to wish him well! Then… something dreadful, too horrible happened. What was-
What is that.
The student doesn’t recognize this demon. This… thing looks nothing like his usual illusions. The creature has no shadowy afterimages, isn’t like the idea of a human shape, or even resembles his roommates. No, the thing appears solid. Realistic. Spindly screws from its head bobs along, a cloak darker than midnight and more violet than the deadliest poison trails in its wake, as it glides in his peripherals. He’s never seen something that commands his attention like this, as if he was just made aware of the predator in the room. If only he could turn his head and see if fully in all its wretchedness, so he could comprehend the danger he is in.
The student tries to look in the corner of his eye to catch a glimpse.
He isn’t alone.
Scattered across the floor lay the bodies of his schoolmates. Would body be the right word for them? It’d- it’d imply they were dead . That would be the closest thing to describe them, each one frozen still, cadavers splayed on the ground to be dragged off to their grave. To his relief, he notes the body - person - nearest him, that loudmouth clingy freshman, his chest slowly rises and falls. Deep in slumber.
His jaw is wired shut from his paralysis. There’s no chance he could have any of them aware of what is happening.
He goes back to track where that thing went, and spots that person curled in on themselves. The whatever-their-name-is, that disrupted the orientation with their familiar. The prefect sleeps with their blue-flame eared companion nestled against their chest. A lime green glow colors their complexion as the monster draws near, a will-o-wisp spiriting them away.
Far far away.
The cloaked figure leans over the two and eases them into its arms. The reaper cradles the body, sweetly, and to the student’s confusion, watches helplessly as the monster rocks them. The creature makes no footsteps, as if dancing on air, towards…
A coffin.
In the shadows he recognizes the shapes, oblong wooden boxes line up, some open, and too many of them sealed.
He couldn’t take it any longer as his heart thumps against his ribs.
Please! This must be a hallucination! Why, why does this feel so real? Wake up! Wake up!
The seams of his tight stitched lips pop, ripped open to have not a sound come out. The rasp of air calls out to no one, a stream of helpmehelpmehelpme to the sleeping corpses littering the lounge. He can feel his mouth move but nothing! No one stirs as the student shifts their eyes around one by one to all of them.
Someone! Anyone! Wait - Where is Prince Malleus?!
In the limited scope, the student cannot find their leader.
He could save us! He’d - There’s no way possible that a mage as great as he could fall victim to this curse! He’s -
It is drawing towards him now. He needs to move! It takes all his concentration to have a finger to twitch. If he could get his hands to move, he can snap out of this nightmare! That’s all it takes to get out of an episode, clench a hand-
A string tied to his wrists lifts his hand up, limply, the same ragdoll weight from paralysis pressing it down yet still moves against his will.
NO ! Nonononononono! I can’t have the monster know I’m awake! Who is moving me?!
The reaper stands beside him, the noise the student has discovered now was humming . The lullaby drowns out the beat of his heart in his ears and he wishes and wishes his eyes would shut and that he would get out this dream. The green blaze hovers above him and envelops his vision, to meet ashy skin, drained of life.
It smiles down at him. A closed mouth smile, a parent chiding their child for staying up too late, but with no real disappointment behind the verdant eyes. Entertained that they found their little one awake. Inky black tears drip drip drip down the paper white face, and land on the student’s face.
The humming stops. Replaced with a hissing shush .
Why ever was he frightened before. He knows this face. Haven’t we met before?
His protector ushers his arms around shoulders, and the reaper cradles him in his embrace as he sways, starting up the lullaby once more, and returns him to the student’s resting place. A comforting crib with fine velvet lining and sturdy walls. Fitted to his exact size. No one could disturb him here.
Hasn’t he been in here before?
Arms falter, and the caretaker settles him onto the cushion, and tucks their charge into the bed. With his hands folded neatly on his stomach, eyelids eased down down down, and drowsiness overtook him.
Satisfied with the preservation, the coffin lid slides across, and the light snuffs out. The last thing the student sees is those watchful green eyes peering in the last sliver of the door and bidding goodnight.
Green flames erupt in the Dark Mirror.
“The nature of your soul is… DIASOMNIA !”
His dream came true.