The Call of Oblivion.

Prologue

The sun was low on the horizon,
The sky was weeping blood.
The first tender rays of light were breaking through the all-encompassing haze of darkness.
And she was flying.

Slicing through the gossamer clouds like an arrow released from a bow, she chased her shadow amongst the billowing giants, laughing, teasing,
dancing in the sky.

She glanced back at her wings, they were pristine, white and ethereal, an exercise in perfection. They were massive, eagle wings,
the wings of one born to live in the skies.

She smiled and launched herself at the ground, pulling her wings back in a straight dive. Closing her eyes, she felt the wind against her face, like the familiar touch of an old friend. After plumetting for several miles, she spread her wings in one sharp movement and with one powerful push, she was rising on a upward current.

She had never felt more alive.

But something was changing, shifting. All around her, the sky seemed to be breaking and shattering. Soon, large chunks were breaking off and falling from what now seemed like a painted picture. She changed direction and swooped left and right to avoid the falling pieces, but before long she was hit. She struggled under the weight, pushing her wings up and down till she had accumulated a gale of debris around her but ultimately she succumbed.

And then she was falling.

Aurora woke up with a start, and sat up abruptly. She was drenched with sweat and shaking. She reached behind her with her hand to feel the planes of her back,

but there was nothing,

absolutely nothing.

The dream had been so lucid that for a second it had felt real.

Perhaps it wasn't a dream at all.

Perhaps it was a nightmare.