The Witch's Relay

Chapter 62: Visions

From the distance a loud growl and a roar fills up the cave and echoes off of every wall. The sudden noise is so loud that we all nearly have to protect our ears, but instead we all realize that fighting is our only option.

"Grant me great light and let me fight. Flare!" Immediately Linda casts her flare magic in order to let us see our attacker, and in dread, I instantly know. This opponent is far beyond my abilities.

From the far side of the tavern, a massive yeti-like creature, is wielding a massive stalagmite as a club, and is charging straight for us. Instead of being snow-white like the yeti one would imagine, this one is dark gray, specifically evolved to survive the underground.

The massive creature is standing at at least fifteen feet, but still moves at a speed which no human could ever hope to match.

Out of pure instinct, remembering that Heather mentioned the dungeon dying if we take the core, I rush straight for it, and in the very moment that the monster has raised its club in order to crush one of my party mates, I leap forward and stretch out my arm just far enough to grab the sphere.

...

In the moment that my hand wraps around the glowing core, time suddenly appears to slow down so much to the point that it nearly stops. The moment I grab the sphere, it immediately shoots out spikes in every direction, impaling my hand and filling it with so much pain that it spreads through my entire spine and even reaches my head.

I attempt to call out for help, but the air is so thick that nothing comes out, instead I notice the core pulverize and turn into a black mist.

For a moment I feel like I can see a face inside the mist, with figures too vague to properly discern, but it vanishes immediately and expands to the point that it completely envelopes me.

And then time speeds up again and the pain is gone. I crash down onto the ground.

...

Groggily, I do my best to stand up, nearly collapsing from dizziness in the process.

And.. I'm not in the cavern anymore?..

I find myself standing on a rough wooden floor, in a dimly lit and stuffy room. The air is still too thick for me to breathe, but if I were to, I imagine that I would've felt the scent of rosemary-spiced chicken being grilled.

The room appears to be an inn, but not one that I recognize. I can hear a myriad of sounds, but all distorted. If I concentrate really closely I can make out the warped sound of someone singing and playing an instrument.

All around me are people, cheerful and drinking, but I can't make out their faces, nor their clothes. Everyone seems to be clad in mist, but when I try to stare hard enough for the mist to partially give way, my head explodes in an unbearable pain, forcing me to collapse back onto the floor and cover my head with my knees and arms.

...

When the pain disperses, I reopen my eyes to find myself at the edge of a peaceful campfire.

Once again I can't make out the figures around the fire, but they all appear to be in a good mood. Every so often erupting in laughter at something another figure said.

For some reason, observing these faceless and nameless figures, I can't help but feel loss. It's as if in another world I'd be sitting there next to them and laughing together, but that ship has already sailed.

The sound of a stringed instrument suddenly cuts through the noise, and all the other figures go quiet, listening to the one playing music.

Realizing that I'm still on the ground, I reach my hand forward to push myself up, but start backwards over what I see.

My hand is there, but not as I remember it. Rather than skin, my hand is wrapped in the same mist as the other figures, but even thicker.

...

I feel as if my world suddenly spins around, and I find myself in the next environment, but completely alone this time.

I.. Where am I?

I'm completely surrounded by pine trees, and I can hear the sound from a stream of water somewhere out of sight. The feeling of familiarity comes over me, but I can't quite place it.

Then, out of nowhere, three mist-clad figures which I recognize from the campfire break their way through the bushes, wielding swords. While cautious, they appear to be in eager conversation, one of them playfully kicks another on its calf, at which the one who got kicked tries to stomp on the offender's toes but misses.

Suddenly, another figure that I feel like I should recognize bursts out of the forest from behind me, brandishing a raised sword in one hand, and a sphere of light in the other which it casts towards the first three, taking them completely off guard.

The next few moments fly by in a daze, all of the first three figures end up dead, without barely a chance to fight back, before the attacker disappears the same way it came.

Confused what I'm supposed to be looking at, for several moments the peace returns to the environment, despite the three dead figures.

But the peace once again vanishes just as soon as it came, because now, more figures emerge from the forest, presumably the dead ones friends', and they mourn the deaths of their comrades.

...

With the same spinning feeling and dizziness, I'm no longer in the forest. Instead I find myself in a large and bright room with a marble floor and a scarlet rug spanning from the large wooden doors, and all the way to a large golden chair that lies elevated a few steps up.

Is this a palace?

On the throne another mist-covered figure is sat, this one wearing a golden crown, presumably a king, and in front of him and kneeling is a familiar figure at the foot of the steps.

...

Several such scenes take place before me, some taking place in inns, some out on a plain, some in the mountains, all feeling somewhere reminiscent or familiar, but none of them actually striking a chord with me, up until the very last one.

...

The last scene is completely different from all the others. Now once again in the throne room, the lighting is completely tinted red.

Looking down at my hands I jump a little when I realize that not only are my hands still covered in a thick mist, but in my hands, is a sword which I don't recognize, but that is completely covered in and dripping with blood.

My eyes naturally wander away from the blade, and once again, I am startled by what I see.

Right in front of me, and no longer covered in a fog, the king is lying on the floor with his glassy eyes frozen open, his shirt stained completely red.

I take a step back, trying to distance myself from the horrifying scene, but step on something round and soft, which nearly causes me to slip and fall.

Behind me lies body upon body, royal guards who failed to protect their kind. But what I really notice is the familiar figure standing in the wide open doorway, with tears in her eyes, a look of shock on her face, and desperately trying to hold onto a young man who too seems to be injured, but not yet dead.

Grace. Wearing a light pink dress and a silver tiara.