Of Phoenix Tears and Demon Blood

3 - Dream

I woke up on a plain of red sand. Thick ash fell from the sky, coating my hair and skin in soft feathers of crepuscule. The air was just warm enough to prompt beads of sweat to roll down my face. The sky was a maroon that faded to darkness, and despite the lack of a visible light source, I could see clearly.

Where am I? I crouched down and scooped up a handful of sand, it was warm, rough, and speckled with tiny flecks of white. It fell through my fingers, cascading downwards. There wasn't any wind to blow it askew.

Have I died? Is this hell? The endless red desert around me seemed the embodiment of every childhood story tale and religious sermon about Anubion, the hell world. Before we pass into the Unknown, all fiends journey through Anubion as punishment for their sins – according to General Samaras and the mistresses. Some part of me always thought they were lying.

A strange sense of déjà vu swept over me. The red sand, the ash, the warmth – some part of it seemed vaguely familiar, in the same way a long-forgotten lullaby sparks a memory. Perhaps that's just the fiend in me recognizing that I belong here. I brushed those thoughts away, I needed to focus on the present.

What happened? I was on the battlefield, and Wren got shot. A prickle of grief stabbed at me, but I brushed it away. I hardly knew her, and people die all the time in war. Then Gen. Gen had vanished, but she somehow always makes it out of battles unscathed. And a man appeared, the Oathbreaker.

I swallowed and picked up another handful of sand. The Oathbreaker: Insurran's famed general and soldier. A fallen Alkira. It had to have been him. His dark, burnished armor – void of decoration but made of the finest quality – attested to that. His sword illuminated the battlefield with light and soaked it in blood. His eyes-those did not matter. I had passed out, no doubt a result of his magic.

Ella.

I woke up and the men – the men shot me and took Ella and-no, that can't be right, that couldn't have happened. The blood, her blood-

My hands tore at my clothes. A hole was pierced through my leg armor and the cloth was torn, but my skin was unblemished. My chest was unhurt, my breathing painless. I winced at the memory of my lung filling with blood. It must have been a dream, I thought. I must still be unconscious, laying on the battlefield after my encounter with the Oathbreaker. Or maybe I died falling off my horse.

Something screeched, shattering the silence. I whipped my head around only to be met with an empty expanse. Then I noticed the dark shadows rippling across the ground, circling around me.

I froze for a moment, then slowly looked up. Barely twenty feet above me swarmed a flock of strange creatures. Another one screeched, and shrieks echoed through the horde.

One swooped down and I stumbled out of the way. Just as large as me, its feathered wings blocked out the sky. Its body was lithe and – despite its scaly talons – vaguely humanoid. A beady eye stared at me through its matted hair.

Another dove at me and I ran. Red sand drifted in plumes behind my footsteps. My eyes watered from a combination of sand and sweat. I could hear the chorus of screams and shrieks behind me rapidly growing louder, but I didn't dare stop. My heart hammered. I focused on my heartbeat, but I couldn't feel its delicate aura. I clenched my jaw as I stumbled over sand dunes; my magic wasn't working. I couldn't sense neither my heartbeat nor theirs. Panic flashed through me. With every approaching screech, I could feel death enclosing on me.

My shoulder flared in pain as talons teared at it. I fell to the ground and rolled into a crouch. One of the creatures stood opposite of me; it hissed at me, baring its fangs. With the shape of its face, its slender arms, its ribcage, it looked so human while decidedly not being one.