A Nightmare

Normally, your dreams aren’t… great. A consequence of your curse, or your upbringing, you can’t be sure. You’ve grown used to them; the shadows can hardly torment you any longer, the sting of their teeth simply too familiar.

But tonight, when you finally manage to coax your addled mind into slumber, something… else, greets you.

A white void. A perfectly bright, empty expanse of sterile light enough to burn your eyes. You try to move, but you feel something at your throat; as if something binds you to a wall, each motion chokes you against invisible steel.

“What the hell?!” You pry at your binding, but it of course does not budge. You cannot help but feel this is something… more than a dream. You feel too lucid, too real. Your wild, golden eyes seek for a form amongst the emptiness, and find nothing… until.

A figure emerges, vague at first and then starkly detailed at last. Cloaked in dark clothes, bearing a distinct silhouette. A long, lashing tail. A jagged, angry mask. Tall, dignified, looking down on you.

“Amity,” prods a familiar voice.

“What the fuck is this?! Get out of my head, you freak!” you shout, snarling. You nearly gnash your teeth like some kind of rabid animal, as you try and fail to squirm out of whatever ethereal force keeps you pinned.

The masked figure steps up, and as their towering height swallows your vision you begin to falter. Your world becomes wreathed in darkness, a swirl of cloth surrounding you with the mask at its center and inches from your face.

“It is by the Lantern’s grace that you survive, and by your usefulness.” A hand slips from beneath the twist of silk, offering you a photograph—of a woman, in her early forties. Fair-skinned and clearly strong, wearing armor and trappings which prominently feature the symbol… of a flaming mace.

“You have a target.”

“What?! I’m not a hired fuckin’ killer!” You begin to thrash once more, but the glowering face of the mask only nears and you sense its mouth threatening to suddenly open and crush your skull in its jaws. Your once enraged expression devolves into panic, as you sink against the bindings rather than fighting for freedom.

“You are now. This is Knight Eminent Aria Marsett. She is living proof that the Amarlan family has become too comfortable meddling in the affairs of Woodveil; she is being sent from Starpeak to lead a detachment of knights searching for an important artifact.” The mask forces the photograph into your possession, and leans back, turning away.

“She must be killed.”

“W-WHAT? Are you insane?! Do you know how much of a target that’s going to paint on my back, if I can even pull that off?!”

“Do as you have been asked, Golden Son. If she succeeds in rallying these knights, the next time I arrive in your dreams will be the last.”

The mask begins to move away, fading into the darkening scenery until the space is plain, vacant black…

You awaken with a start, jolting out of bed and hurriedly looking around, teeth already bared and breathing heavy. You scramble out of bed and sweep your rapier from its side, engaging in a hunt for your dream-intruder. You scour every nook and cranny of your home, ensuring that there are no agents of the Lantern hiding out… and then, as you enter your living room, you see it.

You approach your dining table. Perfectly framed dusty moonlight filtering in through a nearby window, there is a photograph…

of Knight Eminent Aria Marsett.

Your rapier slips out of your hand and clatters to the ground, and you slide into a chair, planting your face in your hands and sucking in a deep breath through your clenched teeth.

What have you gotten yourself into?