Heir of Cinders [FADING EMBERS #1] - ON HOLD

21.1 - Bloodstained

Nadrien hated dreams.

She had hated them for as long as she could remember.

They took her away to lands with stars in their lakes, lands with beasts big enough to swallow cities whole, lands which worshipped gods with three heads and gods sprawling beneath their cities — all of them fascinating and beautiful in their own ways. But more often than not, she would be whisked into a cataclysmic distortion of reality — an image of the past, present, and future suffused with lies and warped with malice.

Those were the worst sort of dreams. Ones that instilled all sorts of weird and disturbing imagery in her mind, leaving her to wake up in cold sweat with the dread that it might be a premonition of the future.

She'd had visions of a three-headed golden wyrm devouring an owl, a dying star in a shattering sky, a famished bull in a field of fire. It was like a disease, tarnishing what was once a beautiful and alluring dream and corrupting them into malign nightmares.

It was strange, but Nadrien always had the ability to have full control over herself in her dreams, almost as if she could traverse the whimsical land of dreams as real as she could in the waking world. As such, she knew that underneath the dreamlands' dazzling layers were twisted nightmares that only belonged in the darkest corners of a mad mind.

So, every night she shut her eyes to drift to sleep, she would always hope for the pitch-black nothingness to fill her slumber.

Alas, this was not a kind night to her. Nadrien found herself stranded in a dim, deserted hallway. Large frames hung from the marble walls, showcasing a variety of paintings that were clearly made by different hands. The darkness was a comfort to her. It reminded her of the large, ancient manor she called home. How long had it been since she last set foot there?

Nadrien paused to appreciate the paintings hung on the walls. They were exquisite works of art, rivaling even the masterpieces of the old yildean masters.

She bit her lip, silently praying to the gods that this was one of the tranquil, uneventful dreams.

But, the gods said no.

A tremor shook the hallway, increasing in magnitude by the second. Cracks formed on the walls, knocking the paintings to the floor. Showers of dust poured from rifts in the ceiling. Light flooded the corridor, and the air suddenly seared with intense heat. Nadrien glanced back, only to see a writhing column of flame barreling towards her like a train on its tracks.

Thank the gods above, she thought, sarcastically.

Her legs spurred into motion in reflex, in a bid to outpace the roaring fire that ravaged everything in its path like a starved beast. Nadrien silently mouthed to herself that it was just a dream, and dreams couldn't kill. It would end the moment Magni came bursting in, hollering on the top of his lungs.

The heat of the fire felt far too real. It lapped at her back, stinging her skin. Smoke rose from the tips of her hair. Her eyes grew moist with tears, blurring her sight as she stumbled blindly through the collapsing hallway. Within the chaos, her ears managed to catch disembodied whispers.

"The red dawn from the west."

"The Sunsbane, the Mooneater."

"The other god from the outer hell."

"The judge and the executioner."

The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly into infinity. Fortunately, it didn't. Nadrien saw a doorway at the end, letting sunlight seep through the gap between them. Heart pounding, she ran as fast as her weary legs could take her.