Cinders in the Dark

Nightmare

Lucinda Whent rode out hard, her hair blowing behind her as she left Harrenhal in the distance. Her fathers seat was a cursed black mass of melted stone and the haunted memories of everyone who had burned there. It was supposed to be an honor, having a castle bestowed upon your house. But the castle was so large and in such a state of disrepair, it was nothing but a punishment. The wind whistled past her ears as she rode, the echo of a nightmare still playing in her mind. There was a reason, no one held the seat very long. Its very walls were infused with suffering, she could feel the malice pouring out of them. Whenever the halls pressed in too closely around her, she would go out for a ride.
The night was alive with the sights and sounds of the summer. The humid air weighed heavy around her, like a cloak of mist. She raced headlong into the wilderness, paying no attention to her surroundings. She just had to get away. Away from the terrible images that kept replaying in her head. The castle haunted her day and night. Always it was whispering in her head, sometimes showing her visions. Other times she would wake up suddenly and be out of bed at some random corner of the castle. It was a sinister sensation that crept heavy up her spine. It was like standing on the gallows with a noose around your neck, it was only a matter of time before the floor fell out beneath you.
Her father had been bequeathed the castle years ago, when she was still a child. She would never forget the chill that had settled into her bones the moment she had stepped inside. The feeling had never left her, she could only feel better when she was outside far away from the menacing energy of the castle. She knew it was silly to ascribe the castle characteristics like it was a living breathing being, but sometimes she was not sure it didn't think and breathe. She'd never been plagued with visions before moving into the castle and hoped once she left it, so too would the horrible images.
The dream had been dark, as she wandered the halls of her house. She had watched her own fingers trail along the stone walls, her pace leisurely. Wandering dreams were always the worst, it meant Lucinda would wake up somewhere else. In the darkness, it was impossible to see what room she was in. But the further she went, the brighter it grew. A soft orange hue radiating from some far off place. As she grew closer to it, her heart pounded. A heavy thumping that made it hard to think. It was an inferno, but not one she'd ever seen. It engulfed a perfectly still knight in a full suit of armor. Once in sight of it, the knight moved, turning to face her before drawing its sword. The clack of armor was deafening in the empty room, the only other sound was the crackling of the armor as it melted and warped. The dull silver grew red then white as it grew warmer and sweat trickled into her eyes.
In a flash of steel the knight had drawn his sword, it too glowed with the heat of the fire. Mesmerized by the sight, she did not move out of the way. The two stood across from each other, a flaming man and a weeping woman. She could feel the hot salty stream of tears that flowed down her face but was unsure if she had been crying the entire time. She'd taken her eyes off of the sword for just a second, glimpsing movement in the corner of her eyes. But the knight thrust his sword into her chest, piercing her heart.
Upon the sword making contact with her skin, she had woken abruptly to the sounds of bats. Her head had whipped around in the darkness, trying to orient herself. But it was so pitch black she'd had to feel her way around the room, finding the door and vaulting herself up a set of stairs at record speed. The tendrils of darkness clung to her as she had emerged back in the ruin of familiarity, fleeing to her horse.
Now she was running away, something she'd become very well versed in. Some battles just can't be won, only endured. So she played a horrible game of cat and mouse with her own home, coming and going as needed. She had tried to divine meaning from the dreams for a while but she never guessed what they meant. She'd eventually decided they were just a ploy to break down her mental stamina, whatever curse inhabited the walls wanted blood. It was trying to tempt its owner into a terrible fate, always. Her father had avoided it so far but she knew it was only a matter of time before something happened to him as well.