I woke because of a dream.
A strange one.
A very strange one.
Normally I do not remember dreams.
At all.
They disappear almost immediately.
Like fog beneath sunlight.
This one did not.
I remember everything.
Every sound.
Every movement.
Every feeling.
Unfortunately.
I remember it clearly.
I was underground.
At least I think I was.
The ceiling above me was covered in roots.
Thousands of them.
Perhaps more.
They hung from darkness like veins.
Twisting.
Crossing.
Disappearing into blackness I could not see through.
The air smelled damp.
Old.
Like soil that had remained untouched for centuries.
There was no wind.
No insects.
No water.
Nothing moved.
Except the roots.
Not much.
Just enough.
Tiny movements.
Small shifts.
As though something enormous above the cave was breathing.
The cave itself was dark.
But not completely.
I could still see.
That frightened me.
Because I could not see where the light was coming from.
The darkness simply allowed itself to be seen through.
As if it wanted me to look.
At the center of the cave sat an old woman.
Cross-legged.
Alone.
She wore a long black dress.
Not elegant.
Not noble.
Old.
The fabric looked damp.
Heavy.
Almost fused to her body.
Her hair hung in thin gray strands around her face.
Long enough to touch the ground.
And around her neck—
A rope.
A thick rope.
Old.
Frayed.
Stained.
One end vanished into darkness behind her.
The other remained tied around her throat.
Not loosely.
Tightly.
Far too tightly.
The skin beneath it had darkened.
She should not have been alive.
Yet she looked directly at me.
I could not move.
Not because I was restrained.
I simply could not remember how movement worked.
My body felt distant.
Like something I had borrowed.
The woman smiled.
A small smile.
Then a larger one.
Then larger still.
Not suddenly.
Slowly.
The way cracks spread through glass.
She tilted her head.
The rope creaked.
Then she whispered.
Hecate vocat
Sub radice lunae
Oculi carbones
Sanguis in arena
The words felt wrong.
Not because I understood them.
•
I did not.
•
But because the cave seemed to understand.
The roots shifted.
Somewhere above me—
something groaned.
The woman swayed gently.
Forward.
Backward.
Forward.
Backward.
Like a hanging corpse moved by invisible wind.
Hecate veniet
Umbrae surgent
Lustam ultionem
Flamma Devora
Devora, devora
Her voice became louder.
Not physically louder.
Closer.
As though each word reduced the distance between us.
Even though she never moved.
The rope tightened.
I heard it.
Fibers stretching.
Skin creaking beneath pressure.
Her smile widened further.
Far wider than it should have.
The corners of her mouth continued climbing.
And climbing.
And climbing.
Until it looked painful.
Then beyond painful.
Something wet appeared at the corner of her lips.
She did not blink.
Not once.
The roots above us began moving more visibly now.
Slowly twisting.
Curling around one another.
Like fingers.
Thousands of fingers.
Tria viae spirant
Nomina tacentur
In ossibus scriptum
Redde sussurrat
The whisper became chanting.
The chanting became a rhythm.
The rhythm became something alive.
The entire cave seemed to breathe with her.
Forward.
Backward.
Forward.
Backward.
The rope creaked.
The roots shifted.
The darkness pulsed.
I was terrified.
Truly terrified.
The kind of fear that makes crying impossible.
The kind that freezes thought itself.
I wanted to run.
I could not.
I wanted to scream.
I could not.
The woman kept smiling.
Kept swaying.
Kept chanting.
And then—
something changed.
The fear remained.
But beneath it—
another feeling appeared.
Annoyance.
A small amount at first.
Then more.
The chanting continued.
More annoyance.
The swaying continued.
More annoyance.
The smile widened further.
And suddenly—
I was furious.
Absolutely furious.
I do not know why.
I genuinely do not.
One moment I was terrified.
The next—
I was angry.
Not frightened.
Not horrified.
Angry.
The kind of anger usually reserved for Spathian after three hours of uninterrupted spoon discussion.
The cave vanished from my attention.
The roots vanished.
The chanting vanished.
Only the woman remained.
And for the first time—
I could move.
I ran.
The woman continued smiling.
I kicked her directly in the face.
Everything became significantly less frightening after that.
She fell backward.
I jumped on top of her.
And then—
for reasons I cannot fully explain—
I began punching her.
Repeatedly.
Like Ryn punching Spathian aboard the Leviathan Fleet.
Except considerably more violent.
The woman screamed.
I did not stop.
She begged.
I did not stop.
She cried.
I did not stop.
My fists kept falling.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Until suddenly—
something pulled me backward.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Like being dragged away from myself.
---
And then I saw it.
---
Me.
---
Still sitting on top of the old woman.
Still punching.
Still laughing.
---
Laughing loudly.
---
Far louder than I have ever laughed.
---
My eyes glowed red.
Bright.
Burning.
Wrong.
---
Every strike became harder.
Faster.
More enthusiastic.
---
The old woman was still screaming.
---
I was enjoying it.
---
That frightened me far more than anything before.
---
The laughter grew louder.
The punches grew faster.
---
Until her head disappeared into the earth itself.
---
And then—
I woke up.
---
Half laughing.
---
For a moment I did not know where I was.
---
Then I froze.
---
Because Ryn was sitting directly in front of me.
---
Staring.
---
Very intensely.
---
One side of her face looked slightly red.
---
She was rubbing her cheek.
---
Slowly.
---
The expression on her face suggested she was considering violence.
---
I stared at her.
---
She stared at me.
---
Neither of us spoke.
---
Several seconds passed.
---
Then Ryn lay back down.
Pulled the blanket over herself.
And said absolutely nothing.
---
Which somehow felt worse.
---
I am almost afraid to ask what happened.
---
The dream was horrifying.
The cave was horrifying.
The woman beneath the roots was horrifying.
---
But none of that compares to waking up and discovering Ryn silently judging me in complete darkness.
---
I think I accidentally hit her while sleeping.
---
Reality remains significantly more dangerous than dreams.
---
I would prefer the old woman return tonight.
---
At least she explained herself.
---
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