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The fog was dense. It ebbed and flowed around her, both pressing against her lungs and face while thin enough to feel like a gentle caress. It was denser than she was used to. Usually the mist would shift quickly to reveal things that she had tried so hard to forget. Old faces dragged to the forefront, screaming in terror or spouting their malicious intent. Perhaps an old mangled body, or even the eyes that watched her. She'd grown hard against the more obvious expressions of the past, but once and a while, something changed and caught her off guard.
This was one of those times.
The silence that punctuated the fog made some version of her stomach churn, while her heart raced. She worked hard to focus on getting out but if she was moving—and she couldn't know because she couldn't see her feet— she had yet to make any progress. She had to think, if she could get her thoughts to stop racing, and try to stave off the panic as long as she could.
But the fog, how could it be getting even worse? She could just make out shapes right before they were upon her, passing through rows and rows of stacks. A scream in the distance had her checking behind her, a true testament to how unnerved she was. When had she fallen asleep? She worked hard to make sure it was never deep enough to trigger these events. All of her thoughts stayed jumbled as she dodged book shelves and the piles of books increased.
A library? Where the hell was she?
Veryl turned just in time to see movement, becoming keenly aware that she wasn't alone. As the dark shadow pressed closer, she took as large a step back as she could muster. She couldn't anticipate the way her leg would come up against and become tangled with something, while she tried to focus on the figure that was growing more defined in front of her.
Whatever the offending object was, it sent her tilting back and slamming into the ground, or the semblance of it. Maker only knew how many cliff edges she'd walked off in her dreams, only to wake up screaming. Please let this not be one of those times.
She rooted around in a panic, searching for anything to defend herself with. The back of her brain also kept her awareness open and ready to fight something she couldn't comprehend. None of her usual tactics were working to wrest herself from the hallucinations, everything felt more real, more tactile than a complicated lucid dream. It was making her sick.
Heart racing. Head pounding. Splitting in two. He was trapped in a nightmare. And there was something here that shouldn't be. Jericho stopped to catch his breath, leaning against a crooked bookcase, eyes shut tight. He didn't want to look. Didn't want to see. The fog was getting thicker, the shifting shapes — always a challenge to keep in focus — were even more fluid than usual. He'd been at it for what felt like hours. Searching for a way out. Typically, he would've been able to wake himself up by now. Or seen the demon keeping him here.
But something was wrong.
He had to keep moving. Pushing himself away from the bookcase, Jericho started to make his way forward again. It wasn't long before he found himself, seemingly, right back where he had started. Nothing but shelves and stacks as far as he could see, looming in the thick fog. He screamed in frustration, aiming a sharp kick at a nearby stack of books. "Venhedis." A pause. The sound of something moving in the distance? A flash of something more corporeal than expected? Either this nightmare had taken a strange turn, or he'd finally spotted the thing keeping him here.
Jericho could finally make out the figure in the mist. His breath quickened and his heart beat faster as he prepared himself to come face to face with whatever held him here. This part never got easier. But he couldn't let his fear root him to the spot, not if he ever wanted to leave.
It wasn't what he had expected. She looked human - and had fallen as he approached her, trying to get away. And he wasn't getting the sense she was a demon - his head wasn't splitting enough for that. Probably not a spirit either. Another dreamer then? That would explain why he didn't have as much control over the dream as he should. They were both vying for control. But was he in her mind, or she in his? How was this even possible? What had drawn them together?
He approached slowly, but it was clear she was frightened, maybe even more than him, and ready to fight. He held his hands up, trying to make it clear he wasn't a threat to her.
"Are you alright? I think we're both trapped here. I'd like to help if I can. Maybe get us both out of here?" He offered a hand to pull her up.
Veryl looked at the proffered hand in alarm and then to the person that offered it. What did they mean, 'trapped'? She just needed to wake up. There was a reliable trick she could try, a dagger strapped to her leg, a last resort for desperate moments like these. An old friend had enchanted it to follow her everywhere, and it usually followed her even into her most subconscious.
A good knife to the leg usually did the job when it came to jarring herself awake. The panic she'd managed to ease reignited when her hand came up empty as she ran it along her thigh. She had paid the stranger little mind until that moment, as he watched her with confusion, dark eyebrows dipping down over stark blue eyes, as they surveyed her actions.
Impulsively, she scrambled back as their surroundings started to shift. The damn library looked to be growing larger and more cavernous, turning into something incomprehensible. Old smells of dust and must threatened to suffocate her. That old feeling of being lost in darkness was exposing her innermost wounds to the cold dank atmosphere. The bile in her throat threatened to choke, but the threat hadn't been quelled.
Against her own better judgment, she lurched to her feet, mentally readying herself to fight the person in front of her. It was all for not however, because the splotches that already crowded her vision quickly became everything she could see. Vaguely, she felt herself slump and fall forward into unsuspecting arms.
"Shit." Jericho's knees buckled as the woman's limp form fell against him. He had barely managed to catch her by pure reflex, her fainting spell so unexpected. As he started to gently lower her to the ground, the dull pain in his head exploded behind his eyes, nearly taking him down a second time. Something's coming. He needed to get them both out of here, as soon as possible. No stranger to being trapped in a nightmare, his fear was ever present, but he tried to hold his panic at bay, knowing that this time, he wasn't the only one at risk.
Adjusting his hold to more easily move her, he made his way into the labyrinth of towering shelves and stacks, continuing until he found a relatively safe place, hidden in an alcove of books. It would at least take some time before anything could find them. He laid the woman down and knelt by her head, currently supported by his arm. "Alright… who are you, and how do I wake you up?"
As he finished his thought, the appearance of a strange apparition startled him. It couldn't have been the power he'd felt just after the woman's collapse — this was something different. A spirit? But not one he was familiar with.
DREAMER, YOU MUST ASSIST.
Startled, Jericho's head snapped up. "Fasta vass," he cursed in surprise.
A sound made up thousands of whispers echoing each other spoke directly to his mind as a strange mist formed in front of him. It seemed to resemble the form of spirit but never solidified. It kept shifting and changing shape as though it's influence could not decide what it needed to be.
WE CANNOT ATTEND OUR PROGENY. OUR CONNECTION STRAINS.
"Your progeny? Who… what are you?" Jericho squinted at the being's shifting form, trying to make sense of its purpose. The voices sounded alarmed, urgent. Determined to reach him despite his obvious hesitant demeanor. The mist shifted and broke apart and came back together, flickering.
FEAR FEEDS. SANITY FADES. SHE WILL CEASE TO EXIST.
"Fear? Shit. A Fear demon? Is that what has us here?" He pinched the bridge of his nose, the pain slowly growing stronger. He muttered to himself, "cease to exist…fuck."
THIS CANNOT END UNTIL FEAR HAS BEEN FELLED.
"So we're going to have to face the Fear demon. Kind of already knew that. It would help if I knew how to wake her up." Jericho was growing frustrated, and mostly talking to himself at this point, as the being was not inclined to give specific answers. It looked like he was mostly on his own.
A deep rolling growl rumbled through the stacks and the visage of the mist wavered and danced again, effected by the noise and the looming presence of the demon. Jericho felt it too. It looked like the being turned to recognize the noise, and then seemed to look back at him.
WE WILL INTERCEDE. YOU WILL FIND HER DEEPER WITHIN.
Jericho watched as the apparition moved off toward the noise, dissipating and reappearing every few feet. If the spirit couldn't reach her, it was up to him to wake her. They were already in the Fade, but he had never tried to enter the dreaming mind of someone who had fallen asleep here. The situation was unheard of. They were already in her subconscious. He would have to try finding it on a deeper level.
Assured that the spirit would keep watch as he worked, he concentrated his will on the twisting threads of her psyche, following the path until he could see her lost form, searching the darkness of her own mind for a way out. Under normal circumstances, he would never enter someone's mind without their full knowledge and consent. But he'd already been pulled here against his will, and desperate times…
Carefully, as not to frighten her again, sending her even deeper into her own nightmare, he approached, hands outstretched. He spoke gently. "Please, listen to me. If you want to get out of here, you need to wake up." He hoped that his words alone would convince her to wake herself, hoping he wouldn't have to use any sort of further magic on her mind to force her into wakefulness. He needed her trust. "I can help you get out. Get us both out. But you have to trust me. You have to wake up."
Run. Run. Always run.
All she could feel was a thrumming heart beat as she ran through an impenetrable darkness. How long had it been? When had it started? All she knew was to run.
When a pinprick of light flickered in her periphery, she contemplated it before feeling the desire to change course. Soft words she couldn't comprehend drew her closer. Slowing as she approached, she recognized a man, though she'd never met him.
Hands out stretched he asked her to awaken. Suddenly, it was all she wanted to do.
His lilting voice guided her back through the dark. She had no recollection of the time or space in which she came to. Fog drifted across her vision until she found herself staring up into clear blue eyes, obscured by the sepia tones of whatever plane of existence they'd found themselves in.
"Breathe." The voice commanded, soft but stern. Veryl found herself choking trying to remember how to use her lungs. "In and out, come on. Breathe." Strong supports jostled her in a bid to jump start the action.
He did it with her, that in and out, and Veryl finally took a single harsh breath that burned her starving lungs and turned into gasping and spluttering.
"There you go, good job. Keep going." Veryl blinked blearily at her savior. He looked away suddenly but came back to watch her and her reactions. Anxious eyes scanned her face and clammy hands brushed at her hair. "I know this is all very strange for you, but we need to move, can you do that for me?"
All she had in her was the confirmation of single nod and he was helping her regain her feet. She recalled being in this room, and the fear of fighting something unknown. The man next to her, was he the unknown?
He caught her watching as he looked past to whatever kept pulling at his attention. "You have nothing to fear from me," He answered the thought that must have been written across her face. "I'm trapped here as much as you are."
"Where is here?" Her voice croaked out, her hand flew to her throat. Her voice sounded so strange. The man looked at her, eyebrows knitted together in what she thought might be worry.
"Sounds like you've been screaming in the waking world. I could…?" He brought up a hand, as he asked to approach. Veryl gave him a wary look and took a step back. His hand dropped away, and he nodded, "I understand, I won't do anything. But it's probably best not to talk, you might damage something."
Veryl took his advice and clamped her mouth shut, too aware of the burning sensation that she swallowed against. The man moved suddenly, throwing himself against one of the bookshelves, beckoning her to follow his reaction. Her own belated response to the deep rumble that was growing closer had her snapping against the shelf, the wood biting into her back and she pressed herself as far back as she could.
Whatever steps it was taking caused the ground beneath them to vibrate. Hisses and sniffs announced it's approach, and Veryl's heart rate increased quickly. It manifested in her own huffing breaths. Why was the thing so gigantic? What was it?
"Fear." The man barely whispered.
Veryl swung her head to look at him, he was already watching her.
"It's looking for you. This is your dream." He continued, answering her first question.
Panicked and already in a heightened state of emergent response, Veryl shook her head vigorously and moved away. Too quickly. She shuffled into a large stack of books that toppled over into three more. The sudden crash had the creature on the other side of the bookcase snapping to where they were hidden, locked in.
Run. I have to run.
"Veryl, sweetheart, is that you?" That sickeningly sweet voice curled around her spine, gripping it and yanking at it. Ice cold terror froze her to the spot."I thought we'd never find you. We've been waiting for you."
No, this couldn't be happening. She was gone. Veryl was hiding, Elek had assured her that no one would find her. It had been months since there was an indication of her sniffing around. This wasn't real. It couldn't be real.
"Veryl, there's no need to hide, I promise everything is okay." Another lie from pristine teeth and painted lips. She didn't need to see the face to know.
"Veryl," The voice called again, growing closer. Veryl slammed her eyes shut willing this to be over. "Veryl!" Solid hands on her shoulders shook her until her eyes opened. Those clear eyes caught and held her gaze, they were filled with unease and worry. "You can move, there's nothing stopping you. You've got to move!"
The man was suddenly yanking her away from the bookshelf as it toppled towards them, hugging her to himself and then immediately shoving her in another direction. Together they ran hand in hand, dodging collapsing shelves, towering stacks, and a random chair or two. When they thought they'd caught a break, breathing ragged and gasping, it was then that books started to slide by.
They looked at each other in horror only to realize that the room was starting to rotate, bringing all of it's various projectiles with it. Soon, they were dodging books as they zipped past their ears, and the stacks knocked into one another in a continuous cascade. They did their best to jump and cling to anything that would help them at the cacophony of noise grew with the chaos. The load roar of the creature announced itself to them, having found it target and started lurching toward them by leaping across the various obstacles.
Veryl tried to focus on where they connected, instinctively trying to ground herself. But she felt it slipping then in a flash she was falling, a strangled scream caught in her throat.
They had to keep moving, they had no other choice. The room kept turning and objects kept flying past them. Jericho had done his best not to let go of her hand, hauling her with him and looking back often to make sure she was still there. When they had to separately grapple across some stacks that flew at them, he still found himself gravitating toward her; reaching for her.
He was trying his best to avoid using any magic here, unsure of what the consequences could be, but the option was getting slimmer by the moment. When she started falling he realized he only had seconds to spare. He focused on moving a chair to catch her before she could collide with the flat surface below. He shuddered to think what would happen to them both if she died here.
While he worked his way to her, climbing down and jumping across, he stopped only briefly to knock the demon off course, slamming a shelving unit into it's side and sending it careening in the other direction. It would buy them some time, but not very much. The room kept spinning, new objects flying at them constantly; the place was a spinning catastrophe. If they stood any chance at getting out of here, it needed to stop.
As soon as he was able to see the girl again, Veryl, he'd heard the voice call her, he stopped his descent. He tried to find his balance on a shelf that was anchored to the floor, he only had a few moments before it too sent him airborne. Jericho put all of his focus into slowing down the rotation of the room. He closed his eyes tight, channeling all of his energy on seeing the room in his mind's eye. Through intense concentration, he willed the room to slow. Eyes still shut, he felt the turning begin to ease. He caught that feeling, clutched it close, and forced it into reality.
Once he got the room to grind to a near halt, his eyes snapped open, intent on locating the girl. He was disheartened to find there wasn't a clear path to her. With hardly a thought, he made the books that had been scattered about, now floating lazily midair, arrange themselves into a bridge of sorts. He tested his weight on the first, and when it held, made his way back toward Veryl. As soon as their fingers brushed, he was grasping for her and pulling her along behind him as their feet hit the ground.
This wasn't going to keep working. He couldn't help if he didn't know what he was up against. Everything they were doing was reactive when they needed to anticipate.
"We only have a few seconds until that thing is on us again." He explained over his shoulder as they ran through the chaos the room had spilled into. "We're going to need a plan. Can you fight?" He looked back to catch her firm nod as they both jumped and weaved their way through the parts and pieces of an abused library.
An enraged roar had them pivoting and ducking into a small pressed space, squeezing in chest to chest. The girl in front of him kept peeking around him in the direction they had come, he watched her mismatched eyes flit around as she took in information. The ebbing pain in his skull told him that it was getting close again. "What are you running from?" He ventured quietly, trying to get his thoughts around the maddening split in his brain.
With all of the awareness of a tormented feline, her eyes flashed to him. He briefly feared for his jugular at this range. Her eyes were strange. A person having mismatched eyes wasn't unheard of, he'd seen it before, but something about hers was especially unusual. One a deep black, absorbing all the light, the other a violet so light it was almost reflective. Was that natural?
While she gave no answer, the horrific dread poured off of her in potent waves of energy. There was no calming of the rapid breaths she took. Even though her eyes were steady in their connection to his, it couldn't stop the involuntary twitch around her eyelid. She was practically a beacon for the demon that hunted her.
An eerie silence encompassed them. He knew he needed to get her to a calmer state but he had no clue how to achieve it. His brain cycled through what little information he did have and tried to formulate an easy question when the energy shifted. A noise above their heads had them both bracing and swiveling to see what was happening outside of the little cave.
Long, slimy appendages curled around the opening. Fingers that led to a decaying palm as an unseen creature approached. A faint jumbled of whispers interrupted the silence and gave way to wet drips. Jericho watched in horror as a head appeared at the mouth of the alcove, preceded by drenched tendrils of sopping hair and the acrid smell of death. The same eyes he'd been staring at only moments before were now foggy and gray, bulging like they were trying to escape their sockets.
As it inched toward them it became more apparent that this was some desecrated version of the woman he'd been brought to help. Bony limbs made slow work of the distance, crawling across the ceiling. It's skin hung off it's form in a disturbing way, unnatural and over worn. The whispers they had heard, emanated from whatever this creature was. He couldn't discern them, but a single look at Veryl told him she could.
The expletives and repeated denial that left her were raspy and barely there. She fought against the words that were being poured into her skull. Old threats, explicit promises, reminders, vocalizations, screams; a resounding cacophony of atrocious sounds that overwhelmed her mind and singed her ears.
She recognized herself immediately in the being that slinked toward them. A victim of drowning, at least three days gone, dead and wasted to time. Water dripped from it's soggy hair and clothes, smacking harshly on whatever the ground was here. She was vaguely aware of the small whimpers of panic that left her mouth and the taste of salt as it stung her cracked lips. There were only a few feet between her and the back of the little alcove, and she pressed herself into it, desperate to disappear. Still, it came for her.
It would never stop. If it wasn't this, it was the bodies. If it wasn't them, it was her. Every time she closed her eyes, something would always be there.
It stared at her, unblinking, unnerving, unrelenting. It's body twisted and landed in front of them, taking up space and blocking the entrance. It's jaw worked open but still hung at strange angle. Broken and torn at the ligaments. Horrible groans and indescribable noises made with destroyed vocal chords poured forth. Wounds identical to the ones she had procured for herself, gaped wide on its body, skin and cloth giving way to hints of bone.
With no chance at escape, Veryl felt the panic swell further than it had in ages and ages. There was nothing she could do to stop it rising in her throat. She was going to die. Right here. Right now. They were finally coming to get her.
She felt herself sinking to the floor, collapsing under the weight of her own guilt and hatred of her existence. The world, it would suffer less without her to taint it's light even more. If there was one fewer shadow, if the Spectre ceased to exist… maybe that would make it better.
Dying alone. Wasn't that what she owed them? The ghosts? The undead? The ones who gave their life because of her miserable existence? It was her debt to be paid.
The fire in her throat was an afterthought until a hand was being clasped over her mouth and a body was being crushed against hers. A tight band across her head pressed her face into a hard chest, stifling the never ending scream that still ripped from her lungs through a torrent of tears and body wracking dry heaves. She felt weight across her back as she was wrapped closer.
New, deeper whispers pressed close to her ear, crowding out the colder, older ones that threatened to pull her under.
"It's alright. It's alright. Just try to keep breathing. It's feeding on your fear, don't give into it. Focus on me." He kept repeating his instructions under his breath in an effort to calm her. And to remind himself. Her fear was potent. Contagious.
He had to get her under control. The worse she became, the more it siphoned off of her, drawing closer, breathing down their necks as it honed in on the things that frightened her the most. He wasn't even sure she was aware of anything anymore. He cradled her close, her wailing deadened against his shoulder as he attempted to cage her withering frame in support.
This situation was one he was all too familiar with. He felt for her, knew her fear, how easy it was to give in to. But if she was going to get out of here, if they were going to get out of here, she had to face it - to show it that it had no hold over her. Force it out of her mind. All he could do was attempt to talk her through it. To support her, in the way he had always needed, but had to figure out alone. No one should have to face something like this on their own.
He wouldn't try to yell over the noise she couldn't control, instead he continued to speak in low tones, "Veryl," He tried to get her attention, his hands coming up to hold her shoulders. "This is what it wants. Do you hear me? You're giving it what it wants."
At first, he wasn't sure if his message landed, that she even heard it or comprehended it. He added pressure to his grip where he held her steady. She had already almost collapsed once, and he needed her standing, alert, alive. There was the subtlest shift in her breathing, like something might have made it through. He took it as a sign and kept going.
"You're a fighter, right?" He didn't expect her to answer but her infinitesimal nod was affirming. He felt the looming presence at his back, salivating, content to threaten her with proximity. "You know how to face down an opponent, right?" Another nod. "You don't cower. You aim for the heart."
All he could do was list the qualities he'd seen in the briefest moments he'd had with her. The stubbornness in the set of her shoulders, the fierce defiance when she refused his healing, even the way she pushed herself to stay ahead. Yes, she was afraid, and it was all consuming, but even now he could feel the rigidity in her spine out of sheer determination to remain upright.
She'd become quiet, listening to his voice as he spoke. It must have pulled her attention, because the thing behind him was starting to get restless. Anticipating an imminent tactic change, he spoke his next instructions with haste.
"Listen to me, do exactly as I say." He didn't wait for her response and instead started to shift so he could stand at her back. "It wants you to believe it's lies, but you're not going to, are you?" His arms moved to cross over her front, holding her against his chest as he stared the creature down. "Veryl?"
It watched them with glassy eyes, the violet barely there, and black even dark than it's natural owners. It's twitching increased, unable to stay still. The whispers turned to groans and clicking.
"No." Just a little rasp. She raised her head of her own volition, and that determination he felt in her spine was now sinking into the rest of her bones, bracing her posture.
"Good. Because no matter what, you know that's not you." He kept his mouth close to her ear and spoke low enough that the monster in front of them wouldn't hear. "It's not you." He entreated.
"It's not me." Veryl repeated without hesitation no more than a whisper, but he could hear the confidence around the emotion her voice held. Gently, he reached for her hand. The plan was simple, but it could work. Close range, emotional distraction, he needed to get the timing right.
The creature was growing more incensed as Veryl found her fortitude. The waves of fear were no longer something they needed to worry about, instead resolve took it's place. An opening was forming, the creature was trying to turn into something bigger and if he could just…
His hand wrapped around hers as he pointed them together, He channeled a force spell through himself, letting it flow through her as well, allowing her to feel the strength of the mental shove that forced the demon back, suspending it in the air far from where they stood. Clenching his fist, and guiding her to do the same, he let another surge of willpower flow through them both, a subtle tingle following nothing but a brief thought, and a desire to make it so, as their target disintegrated into dust before them.
There was only a split second of relief before everything went black. The demon's hold was broken and the illusion had dissolved. She was gone. Something was still off. It was all too abrupt - not the more gradual shift he would have expected. If the dream was broken, he should have woken up. Or at least be in the raw Fade. But everything was just… black. Empty. His heart skipped a beat. This was wrong.
OUR MANIFEST OF FLESH LIVES. YOU HAVE OUR GRATITUDE.
He should have expected the strange entity to show itself again, but it's sudden appearance among the surrounding nothing still startled him. "What just happened? Where am I? Where is she?" Was this being the reason the dream had dissolved so quickly? Leaving him in this… void?
YOU MUST KEEP WATCH. YOU ARE INTERTWINED.
"Intertwined…? What does that mean? How? Is this going to keep happening?" He was practically yelling at it now, but to no avail. Frustratingly, the spirit still only spoke in its incredibly vague manner, leading to ever more questions than answers. Trying to get any relevant information from it seemed a fruitless endeavor. What was he supposed to do? Look out for this girl every time she had a nightmare? Who was she even? How did he end up here?
DREAMER, SHE IS NO LONGER WHOLE AS SHE EXISTS APART.
Before Jericho had time to process the warning, the being flickered out, and the raw Fade began to materialize around him. He would be able to wake himself now, but that omen was sure to haunt him into his waking hours.
Veryl placed the book back on the shelf. The notes in her hand crumpled as the juggled the other volumes. She'd poured through tens of books trying to find any reference to what she had seen.
The Mortalitasi had always been benevolent in their education of non-magical persons. She had received formal training on various kinds of magic and what to look for, how to fight against them and how to protect their weak points. Extra curricular personal study was encouraged, and not even her benefactor would begrudge her the time she spent in the Necropolis Library learning as much as she could.
But none of those many, many, hours, prepared her for what happened the other night. There was precious little information on anyone that could manipulate and interact with other people's dreams at will. She still wasn't entirely sure it was even real. The few texts that did mention anything like it, referenced each other and sent her in circles. The only thing she managed was frustrating herself into a headache and a desire for a rest she couldn't indulge.
Veryl let her head rest briefly against the bookshelf. She gave leave to a deep, exhausted sigh that did nothing to alleviate the heaviness of her eyelids. Sleep hadn't come easily and not without the plying of cheap liquor. Even if she wanted to, she wouldn't actively seek it out until it was too much or got in the way of things. The monster that tried to devour her subconscious still lived behind her eyes. Even now, dead, gray pupils stared back at her.
Veryl cringed and lifted her head, "It's not me." The mantra she'd been muttering every fifteen seconds. She still heard his voice in her ears as he talked her through it. Gentle, stalwart, unyielding. He'd felt real. Every part of him. His grip, his hold, his flesh. It was true that her dreams had gotten more unbelievable lately, but she didn't believe that she was capable of conjuring something so lifelike. No, he and the demon both were unprecedented players in her mind. It didn't bode well.
Even so, she had very few resources without access to the library back home. The more extensive tomes in Minrathous belonged to the wealthy and powerful. Of which she was neither. Her access to the small library of an old scholar was limited to the first floor. And she was already on thin ice with the book keepers, they didn't appreciate it when she fell asleep there. In an effort to keep to good graces, she returned the rest of the books to their correct homes and smoothed out her notes.
The third book she had picked up suggested the existence of something called a Somniari. An especially powerful subset of mage that could manipulate the fade. But they were rare, and generally considered a possibility rather than a fact. Circumstances and mana would have to align just right to manifest such powerful magic in someone. Not to mention they would be highly sought after, protected even.
And one just happened to show up in her dream of all places? Just to stop a demon from chasing her? What would stop them from leaving altogether? Why stay at all? Why stand firm and cradle her head while she screamed in his ears?
It didn't make sense.
Veryl pulled at her hood, lowering it over her head to block her face as she stepped out into the sun. The artificial dye Mylinn had given her refused to take, so she was stuck keeping her face tucked as far back as possible as she hurried along the busy streets of Dock Town. It was further into the common areas than she usually dared to venture, but the insatiable need to solve this mystery took precedence. She worried it could happen again.
Distractedly, she glanced through her notes again, trying to find something to calm the anxiety in her lungs. Some sort of evidence to-
A rough glance off her shoulder sent the parchment in her hands fluttering to the ground, a soft sea breeze tunneled it's way through the city scape to scatter them. There was a hurried call of apology that she didn't really register as she dove for her wayward notes.
The majority of them were easy enough to grab, while several others remained out of reach, constantly near missed by the feet of passersby. Veryl prepared to move closer and make herself a nuisance to the people around her, though she had already gained more attention than she was comfortable with. It wasn't possible to leave them to the wind, the information was too specific.
Collecting the last few within her immediate periphery she looked around for the others. Before she could move however, a figure stooped to retrieve the papers. They hastened to her side, squatting to hand them to her.
Shocked, she lifted her head to thank them, before thinking better of it.
"Thank you," she muttered in a raspy broken version of the little Tevene she knew, the words scraping along her still raw vocal chords. Her hood had fallen back in her haste, enough to expose a few loose tendrils of bright hair. She tugged at it and grabbed for the proffered parchment.
"Mercar, hurry up!" A voice rang out and her savior hesitated a moment before answering the call.
Veryl sank back into her cloak and rose to hurry in the opposite direction, tucking her notes away and disappearing into the throng of people in the nearby bustling market.