The End of the Dream

Chapter 10

The snow crunched beneath your shoes.

You walked in silence, not even Wilford daring to break the heaviness of the atmosphere. The trees creaked and groaned around you, whispering even though there was no wind to speak off.

Dark was lost in another time. Unrestrained, his auras lashed around him, with the wild and violent grace of a solar storm. Glitches sporadically shattered through his form, then through the landscape surrounding you, accompanied by shrill analogue shrieks.

You wanted to reach out and gently touch his shoulder, bring him back, but he was far beyond you.

It was sheer relief when the trees opened out into a vast clearing. No—not a clearing. A lake, frozen perfectly in midnight blue and dusted with small drifts of snow.

Dark stopped dead in his tracks.

"Ah, well," Wilford said cheerily. "It's been a while. I'm sure the cabin is just up the way."

"No," Dark snarled. He did not elaborate.

He whirled on his heel and returned to the forest with an even more grim set, if that were possible.

You and Wilford both had to pick up into a jog to keep up.

"Dark, plum," Wilford cajoled. "Maybe this isn't the best idea after all, eh?"

There was no response.

You reached another edge to the forest, far more swiftly this time. Stretched out before you lay the very same lake.

"Impossible."

Wilford placed a hand on Dark's shoulder. "You don't need to do this to yourself."

"I know the way," Dark snapped. "This is..."

Once more, he turned back to the forest. Neither Dark nor Wilford even seemed to acknowledge your existence anymore, or the fact you were falling behind. The two had picked up a preternatural pace.

"Dark. Dark." Wilford insistently tried to get through to him. Frustrated with Dark's stubbornness and continued ignoring of him, he finally broke out with, "Damien!"

That was enough to get Dark's attention, flinching bodily at the name.

"That's enough," Wilford said, softly but firmly.

Dark shook his head. "This is not my doing."

You were back at the lake again.

You finally caught up, skidding to a stop behind the two men and doubling over, out of breath. You didn't know quite what was happening, but you could have cut the tension in the air with a knife.

A slow clap resounded across the ice, echoed loud and uncannily by the still, silence snowscape.

With a sickening, sinking feeling in your stomach, you realised someone was there. A silhouette at first, approaching across the frozen lake. Yet one you recognised. In the same red velvet blazer as before, cane held in his hand as he gesticulated grandly. Mark.

"Well, now, at least you caught on a little quicker this time!"

A terrifying and powerful rage flashed across Dark's face. But this time, he reigned it in; he wouldn't give Mark the satisfaction of knowing he got under his skin, not so easily. Yet the stony silence he settled into instead was just as unnerving, dangerous. The tightly wound control of a predator ready to strike with murderous intent.

"Oh dear," Wilford commented. "That was rather faster than anticipated."

"How," Dark asked bluntly.

Mark smiled widely, drawing out the moment just to gloat. "Whatever do you mean?"