There was no death or destruction in his dreams anymore. There was no fire. There was no violence. There was only the realm, with all its shifting shadows. A dull place, but soothing in its own quiet way. In his dreams, he couldn’t stop walking. Backwards and forwards and around in circles within the realm, past buildings he half recognised and faces that he did not. There was no context. There was no plot. He didn’t dream of death – he dreamed that he had already died.
Except lately, the dreams had changed. The change was subtle. Like a fog creeping in without notice, until suddenly the whole world was white. Jesse never remembered these dreams when he woke up, but in the realm he’d start talking to the other wraiths; or they’d start talking to him. Whispers of voices that may be memories, or which may just be variations upon his own subconscious. Or maybe it was the Fae. Maybe this curse had something to do with the malicious entities that circled the city, ensconced deep within the wilderness. Somehow they had laid this curse upon him, and now they were acting upon it. Forcing the consequences.
Take the portal to the train station. Jump in front of a moving train.
Hang yourself from a tree out the front. Let the fairies rip your guts out.
Find the tallest building in Harper Rock. Jump from the roof.
Go out to the lake. Take a gun. Tie a brick to your foot and shoot yourself in the head at the edge of a cliff.
Why even go that far? There are traps in your own home.
There are traps in your own home.
There are summoned zombies in your own home.
There are stairs, in your own home.
Get out of bed, Jesse. Get out of bed and take the stairs. Go and say hello to the sun – but take the stairs.
Get out of bed, Jesse.
Jesse’s feet hit the cold floor beside the bed. Clover’s arm slid from around his body, hitting the mattress with a dull thud. Jesse didn’t hear it. His eyes were glassy, unseeing. Pushing himself up from the mattress, he moved toward the elevator. It was habit, his shoulders slumped and his feet scuffing the floor.
Use the stairs, Jesse.
His body turned. There was a door over in the Eastern wall. A door that was hidden and barred, because Jesse didn’t want his own family to accidentally stumble into it, even though he’d told them so many times to never use the stairs. None of them had. To their credit, they all had brains in their heads. Jesse couldn’t much say the same for himself – his own brain was muddled, now. It was broken. It was forcing a decision upon him that his heart didn’t want. The need for death was a surface need. It was the loudest song, drowning out the voices of reason.
At the foot of the stairs, Jesse stared. Unseeing. The voice of reason was telling him to stop but it was a mere muffle. It was a whisper, compared to the pounding clamour of darkness.
GO UP THE STAIRS, JESSE. THE SUN IS SHINING. DON’T YOU WANT TO SEE THE SUN?
His foot hit the bottom step. He climbed. Up, and up in a dizzying spiral, thud after thud of his heavy feet hitting each step. This time, he didn’t hesitate when he reached the door to the top floor. The sensor alarm watched him as he passed; somewhere down below, his phone would vibrate with the alert. Someone had set off the sensor alarm. And, when he opened the door and stepped into the dank coldness of The Third Circle’s uppermost hallway, the camera would catch him, too. It would watch him, and record him as he stepped right into the clutches of the summoned zombies. As he stumbled right into the waiting traps.
The creatures snarled and hissed. They had been waiting in this tunnel for months, without sight of anything living. Nothing moving. Now, they were vicious, violent. Claws gouged Jesse’s stomach, teeth mauled his arm. Bullets lodged into his back and he screamed.
Awake, now, he had to try to make sense of his surroundings. Not knowing where he was, nor that the escape was at his back, he stumbled forward, trying to get clear of the pain and of the ravenous creatures so that he could take stock. But he only managed to set off more of the traps, to feed more of the creatures. His skull was fractured. Shrapnel tore through his flesh from several angles. His body burned, flesh searing and blistering as the proximity mines erupted beneath his clumsy feet.
The burn acted as a reminder.
Don’t you want to see the sun, Jesse?
Yes, the sun. The sun…
Jesse didn’t turn back. With clenched jaw, he surged forward. His leg got mauled. More bullets found homes in his flesh. Countless shards of shrapnel, and fire. Oh, the glorious fire. There was one last brilliant flash of white and he thought he had found the sun; he thought he could open his arms to it. But there was no sun. There was no more fire. There was only a deep, cold, unending darkness.
The Necromancer’s body dispersed into ash there, in the hallway of his own home. His soul descended into his own dreams. He didn’t know he was dead. The brief minute of consciousness was forgotten, and the pain was just a memory. The shadows shifted around him, reaching out to him. Welcoming him.
But it was all still just a dream.
Except lately, the dreams had changed. The change was subtle. Like a fog creeping in without notice, until suddenly the whole world was white. Jesse never remembered these dreams when he woke up, but in the realm he’d start talking to the other wraiths; or they’d start talking to him. Whispers of voices that may be memories, or which may just be variations upon his own subconscious. Or maybe it was the Fae. Maybe this curse had something to do with the malicious entities that circled the city, ensconced deep within the wilderness. Somehow they had laid this curse upon him, and now they were acting upon it. Forcing the consequences.
Take the portal to the train station. Jump in front of a moving train.
Hang yourself from a tree out the front. Let the fairies rip your guts out.
Find the tallest building in Harper Rock. Jump from the roof.
Go out to the lake. Take a gun. Tie a brick to your foot and shoot yourself in the head at the edge of a cliff.
Why even go that far? There are traps in your own home.
There are traps in your own home.
There are summoned zombies in your own home.
There are stairs, in your own home.
Get out of bed, Jesse. Get out of bed and take the stairs. Go and say hello to the sun – but take the stairs.
Get out of bed, Jesse.
Jesse’s feet hit the cold floor beside the bed. Clover’s arm slid from around his body, hitting the mattress with a dull thud. Jesse didn’t hear it. His eyes were glassy, unseeing. Pushing himself up from the mattress, he moved toward the elevator. It was habit, his shoulders slumped and his feet scuffing the floor.
Use the stairs, Jesse.
His body turned. There was a door over in the Eastern wall. A door that was hidden and barred, because Jesse didn’t want his own family to accidentally stumble into it, even though he’d told them so many times to never use the stairs. None of them had. To their credit, they all had brains in their heads. Jesse couldn’t much say the same for himself – his own brain was muddled, now. It was broken. It was forcing a decision upon him that his heart didn’t want. The need for death was a surface need. It was the loudest song, drowning out the voices of reason.
At the foot of the stairs, Jesse stared. Unseeing. The voice of reason was telling him to stop but it was a mere muffle. It was a whisper, compared to the pounding clamour of darkness.
GO UP THE STAIRS, JESSE. THE SUN IS SHINING. DON’T YOU WANT TO SEE THE SUN?
His foot hit the bottom step. He climbed. Up, and up in a dizzying spiral, thud after thud of his heavy feet hitting each step. This time, he didn’t hesitate when he reached the door to the top floor. The sensor alarm watched him as he passed; somewhere down below, his phone would vibrate with the alert. Someone had set off the sensor alarm. And, when he opened the door and stepped into the dank coldness of The Third Circle’s uppermost hallway, the camera would catch him, too. It would watch him, and record him as he stepped right into the clutches of the summoned zombies. As he stumbled right into the waiting traps.
The creatures snarled and hissed. They had been waiting in this tunnel for months, without sight of anything living. Nothing moving. Now, they were vicious, violent. Claws gouged Jesse’s stomach, teeth mauled his arm. Bullets lodged into his back and he screamed.
Awake, now, he had to try to make sense of his surroundings. Not knowing where he was, nor that the escape was at his back, he stumbled forward, trying to get clear of the pain and of the ravenous creatures so that he could take stock. But he only managed to set off more of the traps, to feed more of the creatures. His skull was fractured. Shrapnel tore through his flesh from several angles. His body burned, flesh searing and blistering as the proximity mines erupted beneath his clumsy feet.
The burn acted as a reminder.
Don’t you want to see the sun, Jesse?
Yes, the sun. The sun…
Jesse didn’t turn back. With clenched jaw, he surged forward. His leg got mauled. More bullets found homes in his flesh. Countless shards of shrapnel, and fire. Oh, the glorious fire. There was one last brilliant flash of white and he thought he had found the sun; he thought he could open his arms to it. But there was no sun. There was no more fire. There was only a deep, cold, unending darkness.
The Necromancer’s body dispersed into ash there, in the hallway of his own home. His soul descended into his own dreams. He didn’t know he was dead. The brief minute of consciousness was forgotten, and the pain was just a memory. The shadows shifted around him, reaching out to him. Welcoming him.
But it was all still just a dream.
