"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
The second light Harrowed faced in the labrynth ended up being salvation rather than more torture, though the pale stallion finds little relief in realizing he is back in Beqanna. This may mean the trials are over but exhaustion settles so heavily upon him he cannot bring himself to rejoice whatsoever. The intoxicating scent of fear is no longer here so he assumes the others have scattered or are still battling their own demons.
If they experienced as much despair as he did, the bodach would have a feast unlike any other, and yet Harrowed doesn't linger. He takes on the singular focus of getting off the mountain, stumbling and distracted down the slopes as he thinks of his family and the driving need to check on them. To make sure those were just nightmares and not those he loved trapped in that terrible place.
A day is beginning overhead which feels wrong. He should at least have the relief of night, of pretending the world wasn't quite ready to move on until he found himself again. But it doesn't. It pushes on without mercy and Harrowed's desire to find his parents and brother cannot win over this level of exhaustion. He collapses just within a copse of trees and sleep claims him with a force he has never experienced.
Risa watches with concern as the stranger moves oddly across the ground. There is blood streaked across his body, standing out so clearly from the pale white coat. And though she has no ability to heal, nothing she can offer except for comfort, she follows. If nothing else she can take note of where he is and then find… some kind of help.
This Beqanna is so strange but the abundance of the strange helps to foster hope that help will not be too difficult to locate.
When he collapses, she hurries to his side — confirming that he is, in fact, still breathing. In fact, despite the battered appearance of his body he seems to be perfectly and peacefully asleep. Strange strange strange echoes through Risa's head as she observes for a quiet moment, memorizing what she can tell someone else about his condition. Her dark blue eyes are soft with worry for this stranger and she cannot help but reach out to gently touch his skin, a breath of a promise that help will come soon.
Except she too falls as soon as she makes contact. A sleep that feels the same as when she had died pulls hers down without mercy. Down and sideways and up and in all sorts of directions as her consciousness is yanked into a dream not of her own creation.
Harrowed is back in the maze, only this time it looks like the Ruins that sit near the southern coast. The sky is a deep, burning red overhead. Freedom so close and so impossible. The lightning wings that occasionally adorn his sides are absent here, trapping him.
Had he even escaped before?
Was that short trip back into the world nothing more than a new gateway?
This feels different. Worse. The stone walls are blurred and they change in his periphery as he walks. The wounds he sustained before are gone, though that makes sense. He had been remade twice already since being forced to appear on the mountain, what was once more?
There is no way to go but forward. The maze behind him collapses as he walks, removing the opportunity to escape backwards. A thick choking darkness exists there and Harrowed can tell without testing it that it is impassable.
Just as he knows there is something waiting for him ahead. Not in an anxious way where he suspects it but in a sure and steady way. This place feels like an extension of himself and that is why it is worse than the previous labyrinth.
These walls are created by him. The cloying darkness at his back is a piece of him just like the blood red sky above.
Risa cannot focus on her surroundings. They are blurred together, only the faintest sense of stone walls and a deep murderous sky stretching ahead. She can tell that she has changed too and that is how she knows she is in a nightmare. Her body had carried her through life and death, it was the one sure thing she had in her life. Even when the shimmering dapples had appeared she had still felt the same, just a little shinier.
This change is complete. It feels wrong and wretched as if she is wearing someone else's skin on top of her own. She doesn't know what else to do but to go forward with the knowledge that at some point she will wake up.
It quickly becomes obvious that she is not alone. There is a pale figure ahead who she first thinks is the stallion she had been checking on. But as they both walk down the corridor towards each other she realizes it is not. It can't be.
The horse before her has no face. The head is smooth and featureless. It is white skin, not hair or fur, stretched tight across bones and muscles, and there are gleaming white talons where hooves should be.
The instinct to run does not come over her. Instead, she becomes sure that she just needs to get past this creature and she will be free. It is just a dream. She cannot hurt what is not real.
Harrowed faces the creature before him and cannot even bring himself to feel horror at what his mind has created. It is deep black, so dark it blends in with the walls of the corridor around them, with shining red eyes that have locked onto him. Sharp gleaming teeth are revealed in its mouth as it snarls at him. It is both equine and not, with scales lining its points and an undeniable otherworldly aura around it.
A demon of his own creation. A hellhound. Here to drag him beneath the earth and trap him there forever.
But there's his family waiting for him on the other side of this… this dream. He needs to check on them. Make sure they are okay or throw himself into solving the problem of how to save them if they are not. And to do that, he must get past this creature.
Risa doesn't know how she manages to be terrified and brave all at the same time, but she does. A mouth previously hidden on the faceless creature opens on the underneath of the head — more like a flap opening than a true mouth. White canines drip with silver saliva as it snarls back at her.
They lunge at the same moment.
Risa cries out as they collide, her conflicting emotions raging inside of her as she tries to push her way past the creature rather than fight it head on. She can feel the mouth on the skin of her neck, the hot drip of saliva as it seeks purchase on her flesh.
Her parents were brave, they were warriors and they knew how to fight. Even her brothers could, she once thought, looking up at them with the adoring eyes of the youngest sibling. But Risa? Who is she but a forgotten child? Died so young, so inexperienced. Never wanting to learn how to defend herself because she always felt safe around her family and could not imagine life being any different.
Now, though, she will fight. She has reclaimed life and she will not allow herself to be trapped beneath the earth again. So she shoves and she snaps her teeth, alarmed to find that they are sharp but her shock lasts only for a moment. This new body still feels wrong and horrible but it has gifts too. And this is just a dream.
It is okay to be brave here. There are no consequences.
Risa allows her worries to fade and instincts to take over. Not her instincts, not exactly, but those belonging to this body she is temporarily possessing. Her teeth scratch and bite and she uses her newfound strength to gain the upperhand, tearing chunks of skin out of the white monster.
Until it falls and she is covered in blood.
Until she wakes.
With a violent start and a scream on her lips, Risa jolts back into reality. She sees the sleeping form of the pale stallion beside her, hears the rapid heartbeat in his chest as his eyes also flash open. But she does not linger to check on him. Her worry has faded and it is replaced with something else. Something new.
