Graham lay on the floor, staring wide-eyed at the remains of the skullraider. I...killed it. His mind raced, trying to make sense of what he'd just seen. Trying to quiet the voice in the back of his mind, growing louder as he pieced together the events of that day. They all came for you...
No...
You can speak their language...
I can't be...
Even the daemons fear you...
Stop...
You're something different...
I'm not--
Something wor--
"--AHAM!!"
Luna's voice rang out, breaking Graham out of his stupor. The flames of the burning wreckage crackling in his ears. He felt a strange pain in his chest and realized he'd been gasping and breathing heavily. Luna stood over him now, her robe now stained with ash residue. It appeared that she'd been trying to speak to him.
She placed a hand upon his shoulder in an attempt to calm him, but he quickly cast her off and began scrambling away from her. If I hurt her too... The thought left unfinished as he felt his hand sink into a viscous mass.
He looked down to see that his hand had landed upon a piece of the dead skullraider's rotted flesh. Yellow blood drained out of the gooey mass and coated Graham's hand. He held the hand to his face, the blood flowing down his arm. A few drops fell from his fingertips and stained his shirt. Wide-eyed, he found it was now a struggle to even breathe and began quickly trying to force air into his lungs.
"Graham," he heard Luna say, a calming tone to her voice. But he only fought harder and harder to breathe, his heart daring to burst out of his chest. Desperate, Graham pulled his knees toward him and held his head in his hands, the yellow blood coating his hair.
"It's alright," he heard Luna say. "I'm here. Talk to me."
"Need to wake up," he muttered, finding the strength to speak. "It's another nightmare. Has to be. Please. Have to wake up."
Graham felt Luna's hand on his shoulder once more, only now he let it rest there, afraid to feel alone in the chaos of that night.
He looked up to see her staring down at him, a sad, sympathetic look in her eyes. Graham gently grabbed at her arm, meeting back her stare with a pleading gaze. "Please, tell me. What am I?"
"I--" she opened her mouth, then stopped, her face slight scrunched with a guilty look. "I...can't tell you. Not now, at least" she added upon seeing his fear returning.
"Please, I can't go on like this," he began.
"I understand, but it is not my place--"
"I need to know why. I've spent all this time."
"Graham, listen to me--"
"Just PLEASE! Tell me why I am like this--"
"Listen to me!" she shouted, placing both of her hands upon his shoulders. "I can't explain everything to you right now, but I promise you that, once we are safe, I will explain everything to you. Right now, all I ask is that you trust me. Do you?"
Graham thought for a moment of saying "no", perhaps in hopes that doing so would lead to her explaining herself here and now. Yet, it would be a lie as, in that moment, Graham felt like he was truly seeing Luna as she truly was. Not the woman who offered him honeyed words of that morning or the cold indifferent Herald of what seemed like just a few moments ago. Here, she felt vulnerable as if she was bearing herself before him, praying that he would reach out to her.
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Spawn of the Outworlder
FantasyGraham Blackwell is a simple woodcutter from the village Brightshade that has recently been plagued with nightmares. When an agent of the Emperor, Luna Rucervus, arrives to the town, Graham begins to learn that these nightmares may be more than simp...