My blurry vision, slightly bolstered by Deadeye's Gaze, allows me to scan the room quickly. I am immediately taken aback by its grandeur. The room is spacious, with high ceilings and large windows that allow the natural light to flood in, if only it was day and not night. The walls are adorned with intricate, hand-painted artwork, depicting scenes of a wiry man with a large spear fighting various monsters. The largest is a terrifying piece of the man, Kai Vinson, standing alone against a massive Rougarou thrice his size.
But my attention is rapidly pulled from the art to the center of the room. A large king-sized bed with an ornate headboard and footboard draped in luxurious silk and velvet fabrics sits smack dab in the middle of the room, right in front of a body mirror. The bed is so large that it could easily accommodate several people, but it only accommodates two at the moment. A mother and a very young child, at most one-year-old.
My mind flickers through a million thoughts about the child. I should have expected it to be in here. But now, I'm given a choice as Myra looks up at me in surprise, fear, and a sprinkle of motherly courage. Do I threaten the child to save Wyatt?
It is an easy answer to a difficult task. But I'm not one to choose the easy way. I have standards. Children are never, ever a part of this violence we call righteous. I refuse to become as cruel as the Harveys or as merciless as the Resistance. Cruelty and mercilessness have their place, but not against each other. We are all human.
And, so, I lower my gun and instead speak as Myra shrieks in fear. Commander's Presence joins Deadeye's Gaze as I try to bend her will to mine.
"Quiet. I don't want to have to kill you and or your guard."
My attempt only manages to bring the woman from panic to the calm the Grimes are known for raising their ilk toward. Cold, detached, and machine-like. Just like the very guns they produce.
Myra goes from panicking and screaming to squinting her eyes at me, putting her child behind her. At least she's a decent mother. I've seen far worse. The woman's mind is strong enough to resist Commander's Presence like nothing and only have it bring her to focus. She replies to me with a low but sharp tone.
"What are you doing here, Gunfighter? I thought you were supposed to be dead in these swamps. Darkstep was sent to end you."
I smile and walk toward the bed, grabbing a luxurious chair on my way to her.
"It would seem your information is behind a bit, Myra Grimes. I am a hard man to kill but fear not, I am here for your help, not your life."
She nods and looks me up and down, taking note of my eyepatch.
"It would seem so. You even managed to get past Tyson. Kai recruited him specifically for his strength. So, what do you want? A gun? Information? Me to try to argue for you to be exonerated?"
I shake my head with my gun still in my hand, pointing at her casually.
"None of those. I need you to find someone for me."
Myra raises her eyebrows, confused at my request. She moves in the bed, covering more of her exposed skin that I care nothing about.
"And then, why did you come to me? Surely you've had dealings with Anton. He's much better at this sort of thing."
A sly smile breaches my face. I try to explain myself as she seems more… more amiable than I imagined. But I guess I do have her at gunpoint in her own bedroom, after escaping Darkstep, no less.
"You see, this isn't a normal search. They exist within the mind or dream of someone in this city."
Her disbelief is apparent. So obvious it comes right out of her mouth.
"Inside someone's mind? Who the hell are you having me find, Eli Weiss?"
I shake my head again. I feel a bit guilty about exposing a woman with a young child to a demon like Aniwye, but it must be done. I let some information slip as this woman is a master of the mind, even if she doesn't look like it. That's her game, after all. If I try to keep it away from her, it will only come back to bite me.
"Not quite. I need you to find a demon. A mighty demon."
Her expression only changes minorly, far less than an average person's would when hearing there is a demon within their city capable of hiding from other people. Grimes and their damn calmness. I watch her as she reads my expression underneath my words.
"So, that's why you broke into my house? You didn't want to wait until Kai returned? No. You couldn't let him return at all? Why? Why can't he be here? Are you going to kill me?"
She deduces her own death with the information provided so stone-like that she feels more like a Stoneclad than Lennox. Damn Mentalists. I try to recover and lead her away from that train of thought. I steel my face as much as I can so nothing is leaked.
"No. I do not want to kill you. Or your child. I just need you to find this damn demon for me, okay?"
Her eyes scan mine as she wets her lips in deep thought. She's probably thinking at ten times the standard human rate or something similar. The Thoughtkeeper. She is known for her incredible ability to retain and spit out information. A small library with the ability to affect other minds.
"And what do I get in return?"
I reply quickly and instantly regret it.
"Your life."
She shakes her head to my reply with a short laugh.
"Nonono. You aren't willing to kill me. I can sense that much. You loathe killing a child or their mother. I felt bad when I heard what happened to your daughter. Such a shame. A genius like that dying so soon. Johnny, you are an open book for such a strong man."
Anger rises at her mentioning my family, but I push it down without hesitation. That's what she wants. She wants my rage, for me to raise my voice or be loud enough for Tyson to hear. That's their game. Mentalists wish for you to break yourself. Lead yourself into your own demise. I refuse.
"So what if I am, Myra? Do this thing for me, and I'll leave."
The woman's lip creaks up into a smirk. I can almost see the thoughts in her mind before they leave her mouth.
"And why would I do that? What's in it for me?"
I open my mouth to threaten her again but stop. It won't work. She knows my limits, and I'm unwilling to cross them. What does she want? Money? No. Power? No. She has those two things far more than me overall. Knowledge? Perhaps. She is the Thoughtkeeper.
But what would she not already know that I do?
The books!
But no, I haven't read them all yet. But I have finished The Journal Of Timesplicing. Am I willing to give it to her? To provide a lady from an Estate priceless knowledge in exchange for Wyatt's life? Indeed at some point, it becomes too much to give, right? Or does it? They are about to be attacked, so what are the chances this book leaves this house?
This could be a net positive. I have all the main ideas of the book cemented in my mind. It was only a few dozen pages, after all.
I make my decision. I will return for this book amongst the rubble that is about to be this place. It cannot let fall permanently into the hands of the Estates. Even if it means betting on the death of a Pillar.
"I have a book. One that you will find quite interesting. I will give it to you after you locate this demon."
Her eyebrows furrow as she investigates me a bit more, likely surmising my truthfulness.
"Oh? I didn't know you were a reader, Caldwell. So tell me, what's the author's name? I care only for that written by someone with the knowledge to give."
I spit out the man's name with minimal hesitation.
"Remington Shaw."
This name confuses her as her eyebrows furrow even further. I can feel her mind humming with focus from here. It feels… odd. She looks back at me after a few seconds of deep thought. Her words throw me for a loop.
"I do not recall anyone with that name ever being born."
Instantly, I blurt out a retort, unable to hold it in.
"What!? That's not even an uncommon name. And how would you even know?"
She smiles and puts her hand out.
"I am allowed to read every piece of literature that doesn't have anything to do with Ether or if it is allowed by my father. All birth records and people who have ever lived are in my mind. Give me the book. I will decide once I see it. I am quite intrigued by a man either forgotten by time or never born."
The phrase she eloquently says, "forgotten by time," freezes me for a full second. Remington? What did you do? Was that it? Were you erased? I shake myself from this thought as I hurriedly pull out his aged journal.
Myra's eyes widen as she takes it into her hands after fixing her son's positioning on the bed. I hear the book open with an old crack of a leathery spine. Her eyes scan the whole first page in less than a second, and she decides just as fast.
"Oh my… Deal."
That fast? What did she see? Did she catch something I didn't?
I panic a tad but push it down. Maybe she just realized its potential, just like me. She also doesn't know the entire length of how dangerous the task I'm asking her to do is. Maybe it just fits her.
Unable to figure it out quickly, I just nod and confirm it with her.
"Okay. Good. The demon will likely be close and within the dream of someone nearby. Can you find the demon for me? Preferably bring me to it as well?"
She looks at me like I'm crazy at my request as she stands up from the bed, revealing herself in a lingerie robe. I avert my eyes for Arme's sake, but I watch her hands as she moves and sets the baby in a crib. An inaudible lullaby comes that immediately puts the child to sleep.
"You want me to bring you into a dream with a highly dangerous demon? Are you stupid, crazy, or both?"
I chuckle just a bit. She's not that far off.
"I'm desperate, Myra. You might not know what that's like, but it makes people do stupidly crazy things."
The wife of the Rougarou Hunter softens at my words. I can see her calm demeanor break momentarily as she returns to bed. Her eyes flicker to the artwork of the legend on the wall.
"I do, Johnny. But that does not mean I pity you. We all must pull ourselves out of the pits we are born or shoved in. Some marry themselves off for safety, and others fight against the whole world to right it. Desperation does not mean you settle for stupidity. Ever. But this is your choice, and I will allow it. No harm done to me as I can defend my mind just fine."
I nod in thanks but also ask her what she's doing.
"Why are you getting back in bed?"
She snorts and beckons me toward her on the bed.
"How else am I to fall asleep? I can't dream awake, and neither can you. Come. I don't bite. Though I can promise you if you make a move, my husband will gore you. He is quite territorial, y'know?"
I stand from the luxurious chair covered in cushions and sit on the edge of the bed. I look at Myra as she closes her eyes and goes still like a marble statue. Her features are genuinely magnificent. Reminds me of Arme, only far younger.
On the opposite side of the bed, I close my eyes. But I do not allow naivety or trust in this woman to overtake me. The whole time I drift off to sleep, I keep Glitch at the ready. The Ether prepared to fire off straight into my clockwise eye should anything jolt me. In that way, I'd go back half a second in time without even having to have a target.
But nothing does. After just a few seconds, I hear a slight snore beside me reminiscent of my daughter's before I too am pulled into dreamland. I feel myself slipping, pulled down into murky darkness. Shapes swirl around me, indistinct and unsettling. Then, as if on cue, the darkness coalesces into a landscape.
I'm standing on an endless plain of ash-gray stone stretching out into infinity. The air is thick with a noxious, cloying scent that makes me gag. Coughing, I try to concentrate and look around.
Before I can take in my surroundings, something catches my eye. A figure is walking towards me, slow and measured. I make it out as a short female similar in stature to Myra. Only this time, she wears a dress and a pair of expensive glasses. Like a wealthy librarian, to be honest.
She yells at me, letting me know what's happening as she approaches.
"I think I found the demon, but it faded from my perception. It was just outside the mansion in the guard's barracks."
I look around at the endless plain of stone, curious as all hell.
"Whose dream are we in? And why is it making me gag?"
Myra nods sagely before explaining a tiny bit about dreams.
"Dreams are… intangible and nigh-incomprehensible. They touch so close to the soul that it is one of the weakest times for a human's spirit. These scenes you see are what a man or woman feels deep inside, only altered and magnified by the subconscious. This scene is Arthur's, one of the guards."
I look around some more and ask her where the demon went.
"So, where do you think the demon went? Did it run away?"
Myra glances at me and opens her mouth to speak. She appears to be confident in what she's doing, so I also gain some confidence in it.
"I–"
But the second the first word comes from Myra's mouth, the dream shatters.
I feel a sudden pull, and the world around me cracks into a million pieces. Colors swirl around me as I tumble through a kaleidoscope of images and sensations. It feels like being drug through dozens of people's dreams simultaneously as I see things beyond comprehension yet simply sad. But momentarily, I am suspended in nothingness, weightless and adrift.
Then, I feel myself being pulled again, this time in a different direction. The darkness around me deepens, and a chill runs down my spine. I've been drawn into another dream. This one is not by Myra. Aniwye has found me. I look around this dream defensively, but it makes my heart skip a beat.
The sky is bleak and stormy, lightning the only source of radiance in a nightmarish world, and the ground beneath my feet is slick with mud and blood. The air is moist and humid with the stench of death even amongst the constantly falling rain washing it away, and I can hear distant cries of pain and terror. They sound like… people being eaten.
I try to listen and figure out where they are coming from. But the moment I do, they disappear, and I feel a thick palm clamp around my shoulder. I'm ripped to about-face and see the ugly countenance of an Angelic Ogre.
Aniwye's teeth are dripping with blood and guts, and she looks at me like food. I step back and raise my hands to speak, but her thunderous voice reaches me first.
"So, you are the one that found my message, and you came here without Wyatt? Are you asking for death?"
No! I just need to talk! The kid needs help, dammit!
I can only think my thoughts, not even speak them out loud before she keeps talking. The Ogre is just as mighty as Wyatt mentioned. More so, maybe.
Her voice booms out again, cutting me off, and shakes the whole dreamland, causing the lightning to stop and the rain to pause while still in the air.
"I–"
"What does he need help with? The child is independent. He needs no one but himself. That is how he was made."
I don't let her stop me and finish my sentence this time. I need to get all my thoughts out, dammit!
"That's true, but he's hurt! So bad. The kid is comatose, and the artifact on his arm is eating into his mind. He can't recover properly because of it, either! It will turn him into a true Wendigo at this rate, even if he's a Graves!"
She snorts, a plume of air coming out of the Ogre's prominent nose and displacing the frozen rain. She doesn't seem to either believe me or care.
"He'll be fine. Who cares if he's corrupted a tad? We all are. That's how things work."
Her response only manages to anger me, and I can't hold it back any longer despite the situation.
"You are his mother! Whether he or you accept it or not doesn't matter! You! You have a duty to help him! This child has so much potential, and you'll let it go to waste because what? You're lazy? You have better things to do? Because he's human? None of that stopped you from raising him in the first place, and why? Why did you even do that if you're going to abandon him without a pinch of help!?"
The Ogre capable of squashing my mind looks down at me as her eyebrow furrows. Her one giant eye stares me down with ruthless intent but no real force. The demon smacks her lips, blood falling to the ground before she speaks again.
"I raised him as part of a deal, human, nothing more. Anything I have done up to this point beyond raising him is simple kindness and the sunk cost fallacy. It was just a deal. His father asked me to raise a child for him, and I said sure, what would you like? A general? A warrior? A thief? A survivor? I can create the mentality of anything with enough time. I've done it hundreds of times, so Killian sought me out. He was one of the few humans with zero prejudice against demons."
She stops talking momentarily, reminiscing in the memory as an old man would. I prompt her to continue, wanting to know what happened but also wanting to know why she seems to be so human-like while at the same time so cruel to her child. I focus on her story, hoping it will push her to agree to help.
"What was his answer?"
I need to know why she even did this in the first place. What really was the deal? Can I convince her? She doesn't seem outright antagonistic, just stubborn.
The Ogre replies to my question standing to her full height as if imitating the confidence of the man she refers to.
"His response was simple, yet the most grandiose thing I've ever heard. Something he was so sure of, it was almost prophetic.
'I don't want you to raise a general, a thief, or anything so mundane from my son. I want you to raise a God.'"
My blurry vision, slightly bolstered by Deadeye's Gaze, allows me to scan the room quickly. I am immediately taken aback by its grandeur. The room is spacious, with high ceilings and large windows that allow the natural light to flood in, if only it was day and not night. The walls are adorned with intricate, hand-painted artwork, depicting scenes of a wiry man with a large spear fighting various monsters. The largest is a terrifying piece of the man, Kai Vinson, standing alone against a massive Rougarou thrice his size.
But my attention is rapidly pulled from the art to the center of the room. A large king-sized bed with an ornate headboard and footboard draped in luxurious silk and velvet fabrics sits smack dab in the middle of the room, right in front of a body mirror. The bed is so large that it could easily accommodate several people, but it only accommodates two at the moment. A mother and a very young child, at most one-year-old.
My mind flickers through a million thoughts about the child. I should have expected it to be in here. But now, I'm given a choice as Myra looks up at me in surprise, fear, and a sprinkle of motherly courage. Do I threaten the child to save Wyatt?
It is an easy answer to a difficult task. But I'm not one to choose the easy way. I have standards. Children are never, ever a part of this violence we call righteous. I refuse to become as cruel as the Harveys or as merciless as the Resistance. Cruelty and mercilessness have their place, but not against each other. We are all human.
And, so, I lower my gun and instead speak as Myra shrieks in fear. Commander's Presence joins Deadeye's Gaze as I try to bend her will to mine.
"Quiet. I don't want to have to kill you and or your guard."
My attempt only manages to bring the woman from panic to the calm the Grimes are known for raising their ilk toward. Cold, detached, and machine-like. Just like the very guns they produce.
Myra goes from panicking and screaming to squinting her eyes at me, putting her child behind her. At least she's a decent mother. I've seen far worse. The woman's mind is strong enough to resist Commander's Presence like nothing and only have it bring her to focus. She replies to me with a low but sharp tone.
"What are you doing here, Gunfighter? I thought you were supposed to be dead in these swamps. Darkstep was sent to end you."
I smile and walk toward the bed, grabbing a luxurious chair on my way to her.
"It would seem your information is behind a bit, Myra Grimes. I am a hard man to kill but fear not, I am here for your help, not your life."
She nods and looks me up and down, taking note of my eyepatch.
"It would seem so. You even managed to get past Tyson. Kai recruited him specifically for his strength. So, what do you want? A gun? Information? Me to try to argue for you to be exonerated?"
I shake my head with my gun still in my hand, pointing at her casually.
"None of those. I need you to find someone for me."
Myra raises her eyebrows, confused at my request. She moves in the bed, covering more of her exposed skin that I care nothing about.
"And then, why did you come to me? Surely you've had dealings with Anton. He's much better at this sort of thing."
A sly smile breaches my face. I try to explain myself as she seems more… more amiable than I imagined. But I guess I do have her at gunpoint in her own bedroom, after escaping Darkstep, no less.
"You see, this isn't a normal search. They exist within the mind or dream of someone in this city."
Her disbelief is apparent. So obvious it comes right out of her mouth.
"Inside someone's mind? Who the hell are you having me find, Eli Weiss?"
I shake my head again. I feel a bit guilty about exposing a woman with a young child to a demon like Aniwye, but it must be done. I let some information slip as this woman is a master of the mind, even if she doesn't look like it. That's her game, after all. If I try to keep it away from her, it will only come back to bite me.
"Not quite. I need you to find a demon. A mighty demon."
Her expression only changes minorly, far less than an average person's would when hearing there is a demon within their city capable of hiding from other people. Grimes and their damn calmness. I watch her as she reads my expression underneath my words.
"So, that's why you broke into my house? You didn't want to wait until Kai returned? No. You couldn't let him return at all? Why? Why can't he be here? Are you going to kill me?"
She deduces her own death with the information provided so stone-like that she feels more like a Stoneclad than Lennox. Damn Mentalists. I try to recover and lead her away from that train of thought. I steel my face as much as I can so nothing is leaked.
"No. I do not want to kill you. Or your child. I just need you to find this damn demon for me, okay?"
Her eyes scan mine as she wets her lips in deep thought. She's probably thinking at ten times the standard human rate or something similar. The Thoughtkeeper. She is known for her incredible ability to retain and spit out information. A small library with the ability to affect other minds.
"And what do I get in return?"
I reply quickly and instantly regret it.
"Your life."
She shakes her head to my reply with a short laugh.
"Nonono. You aren't willing to kill me. I can sense that much. You loathe killing a child or their mother. I felt bad when I heard what happened to your daughter. Such a shame. A genius like that dying so soon. Johnny, you are an open book for such a strong man."
Anger rises at her mentioning my family, but I push it down without hesitation. That's what she wants. She wants my rage, for me to raise my voice or be loud enough for Tyson to hear. That's their game. Mentalists wish for you to break yourself. Lead yourself into your own demise. I refuse.
"So what if I am, Myra? Do this thing for me, and I'll leave."
The woman's lip creaks up into a smirk. I can almost see the thoughts in her mind before they leave her mouth.
"And why would I do that? What's in it for me?"
I open my mouth to threaten her again but stop. It won't work. She knows my limits, and I'm unwilling to cross them. What does she want? Money? No. Power? No. She has those two things far more than me overall. Knowledge? Perhaps. She is the Thoughtkeeper.
But what would she not already know that I do?
The books!
But no, I haven't read them all yet. But I have finished The Journal Of Timesplicing. Am I willing to give it to her? To provide a lady from an Estate priceless knowledge in exchange for Wyatt's life? Indeed at some point, it becomes too much to give, right? Or does it? They are about to be attacked, so what are the chances this book leaves this house?
This could be a net positive. I have all the main ideas of the book cemented in my mind. It was only a few dozen pages, after all.
I make my decision. I will return for this book amongst the rubble that is about to be this place. It cannot let fall permanently into the hands of the Estates. Even if it means betting on the death of a Pillar.
"I have a book. One that you will find quite interesting. I will give it to you after you locate this demon."
Her eyebrows furrow as she investigates me a bit more, likely surmising my truthfulness.
"Oh? I didn't know you were a reader, Caldwell. So tell me, what's the author's name? I care only for that written by someone with the knowledge to give."
I spit out the man's name with minimal hesitation.
"Remington Shaw."
This name confuses her as her eyebrows furrow even further. I can feel her mind humming with focus from here. It feels… odd. She looks back at me after a few seconds of deep thought. Her words throw me for a loop.
"I do not recall anyone with that name ever being born."
Instantly, I blurt out a retort, unable to hold it in.
"What!? That's not even an uncommon name. And how would you even know?"
She smiles and puts her hand out.
"I am allowed to read every piece of literature that doesn't have anything to do with Ether or if it is allowed by my father. All birth records and people who have ever lived are in my mind. Give me the book. I will decide once I see it. I am quite intrigued by a man either forgotten by time or never born."
The phrase she eloquently says, "forgotten by time," freezes me for a full second. Remington? What did you do? Was that it? Were you erased? I shake myself from this thought as I hurriedly pull out his aged journal.
Myra's eyes widen as she takes it into her hands after fixing her son's positioning on the bed. I hear the book open with an old crack of a leathery spine. Her eyes scan the whole first page in less than a second, and she decides just as fast.
"Oh my… Deal."
That fast? What did she see? Did she catch something I didn't?
I panic a tad but push it down. Maybe she just realized its potential, just like me. She also doesn't know the entire length of how dangerous the task I'm asking her to do is. Maybe it just fits her.
Unable to figure it out quickly, I just nod and confirm it with her.
"Okay. Good. The demon will likely be close and within the dream of someone nearby. Can you find the demon for me? Preferably bring me to it as well?"
She looks at me like I'm crazy at my request as she stands up from the bed, revealing herself in a lingerie robe. I avert my eyes for Arme's sake, but I watch her hands as she moves and sets the baby in a crib. An inaudible lullaby comes that immediately puts the child to sleep.
"You want me to bring you into a dream with a highly dangerous demon? Are you stupid, crazy, or both?"
I chuckle just a bit. She's not that far off.
"I'm desperate, Myra. You might not know what that's like, but it makes people do stupidly crazy things."
The wife of the Rougarou Hunter softens at my words. I can see her calm demeanor break momentarily as she returns to bed. Her eyes flicker to the artwork of the legend on the wall.
"I do, Johnny. But that does not mean I pity you. We all must pull ourselves out of the pits we are born or shoved in. Some marry themselves off for safety, and others fight against the whole world to right it. Desperation does not mean you settle for stupidity. Ever. But this is your choice, and I will allow it. No harm done to me as I can defend my mind just fine."
I nod in thanks but also ask her what she's doing.
"Why are you getting back in bed?"
She snorts and beckons me toward her on the bed.
"How else am I to fall asleep? I can't dream awake, and neither can you. Come. I don't bite. Though I can promise you if you make a move, my husband will gore you. He is quite territorial, y'know?"
I stand from the luxurious chair covered in cushions and sit on the edge of the bed. I look at Myra as she closes her eyes and goes still like a marble statue. Her features are genuinely magnificent. Reminds me of Arme, only far younger.
On the opposite side of the bed, I close my eyes. But I do not allow naivety or trust in this woman to overtake me. The whole time I drift off to sleep, I keep Glitch at the ready. The Ether prepared to fire off straight into my clockwise eye should anything jolt me. In that way, I'd go back half a second in time without even having to have a target.
But nothing does. After just a few seconds, I hear a slight snore beside me reminiscent of my daughter's before I too am pulled into dreamland. I feel myself slipping, pulled down into murky darkness. Shapes swirl around me, indistinct and unsettling. Then, as if on cue, the darkness coalesces into a landscape.
I'm standing on an endless plain of ash-gray stone stretching out into infinity. The air is thick with a noxious, cloying scent that makes me gag. Coughing, I try to concentrate and look around.
Before I can take in my surroundings, something catches my eye. A figure is walking towards me, slow and measured. I make it out as a short female similar in stature to Myra. Only this time, she wears a dress and a pair of expensive glasses. Like a wealthy librarian, to be honest.
She yells at me, letting me know what's happening as she approaches.
"I think I found the demon, but it faded from my perception. It was just outside the mansion in the guard's barracks."
I look around at the endless plain of stone, curious as all hell.
"Whose dream are we in? And why is it making me gag?"
Myra nods sagely before explaining a tiny bit about dreams.
"Dreams are… intangible and nigh-incomprehensible. They touch so close to the soul that it is one of the weakest times for a human's spirit. These scenes you see are what a man or woman feels deep inside, only altered and magnified by the subconscious. This scene is Arthur's, one of the guards."
I look around some more and ask her where the demon went.
"So, where do you think the demon went? Did it run away?"
Myra glances at me and opens her mouth to speak. She appears to be confident in what she's doing, so I also gain some confidence in it.
"I–"
But the second the first word comes from Myra's mouth, the dream shatters.
I feel a sudden pull, and the world around me cracks into a million pieces. Colors swirl around me as I tumble through a kaleidoscope of images and sensations. It feels like being drug through dozens of people's dreams simultaneously as I see things beyond comprehension yet simply sad. But momentarily, I am suspended in nothingness, weightless and adrift.
Then, I feel myself being pulled again, this time in a different direction. The darkness around me deepens, and a chill runs down my spine. I've been drawn into another dream. This one is not by Myra. Aniwye has found me. I look around this dream defensively, but it makes my heart skip a beat.
The sky is bleak and stormy, lightning the only source of radiance in a nightmarish world, and the ground beneath my feet is slick with mud and blood. The air is moist and humid with the stench of death even amongst the constantly falling rain washing it away, and I can hear distant cries of pain and terror. They sound like… people being eaten.
I try to listen and figure out where they are coming from. But the moment I do, they disappear, and I feel a thick palm clamp around my shoulder. I'm ripped to about-face and see the ugly countenance of an Angelic Ogre.
Aniwye's teeth are dripping with blood and guts, and she looks at me like food. I step back and raise my hands to speak, but her thunderous voice reaches me first.
"So, you are the one that found my message, and you came here without Wyatt? Are you asking for death?"
No! I just need to talk! The kid needs help, dammit!
I can only think my thoughts, not even speak them out loud before she keeps talking. The Ogre is just as mighty as Wyatt mentioned. More so, maybe.
Her voice booms out again, cutting me off, and shakes the whole dreamland, causing the lightning to stop and the rain to pause while still in the air.
"I–"
"What does he need help with? The child is independent. He needs no one but himself. That is how he was made."
I don't let her stop me and finish my sentence this time. I need to get all my thoughts out, dammit!
"That's true, but he's hurt! So bad. The kid is comatose, and the artifact on his arm is eating into his mind. He can't recover properly because of it, either! It will turn him into a true Wendigo at this rate, even if he's a Graves!"
She snorts, a plume of air coming out of the Ogre's prominent nose and displacing the frozen rain. She doesn't seem to either believe me or care.
"He'll be fine. Who cares if he's corrupted a tad? We all are. That's how things work."
Her response only manages to anger me, and I can't hold it back any longer despite the situation.
"You are his mother! Whether he or you accept it or not doesn't matter! You! You have a duty to help him! This child has so much potential, and you'll let it go to waste because what? You're lazy? You have better things to do? Because he's human? None of that stopped you from raising him in the first place, and why? Why did you even do that if you're going to abandon him without a pinch of help!?"
The Ogre capable of squashing my mind looks down at me as her eyebrow furrows. Her one giant eye stares me down with ruthless intent but no real force. The demon smacks her lips, blood falling to the ground before she speaks again.
"I raised him as part of a deal, human, nothing more. Anything I have done up to this point beyond raising him is simple kindness and the sunk cost fallacy. It was just a deal. His father asked me to raise a child for him, and I said sure, what would you like? A general? A warrior? A thief? A survivor? I can create the mentality of anything with enough time. I've done it hundreds of times, so Killian sought me out. He was one of the few humans with zero prejudice against demons."
She stops talking momentarily, reminiscing in the memory as an old man would. I prompt her to continue, wanting to know what happened but also wanting to know why she seems to be so human-like while at the same time so cruel to her child. I focus on her story, hoping it will push her to agree to help.
"What was his answer?"
I need to know why she even did this in the first place. What really was the deal? Can I convince her? She doesn't seem outright antagonistic, just stubborn.
The Ogre replies to my question standing to her full height as if imitating the confidence of the man she refers to.
"His response was simple, yet the most grandiose thing I've ever heard. Something he was so sure of, it was almost prophetic.
'I don't want you to raise a general, a thief, or anything so mundane from my son. I want you to raise a God.'"
