Insomnia

30

Esme stared in shock as two faceless acolytes staggered away from the dome of shadows. They were assisted by more of their hooded counterparts.

"When we cannot find enough Sleepwalkers, we offer ourselves to Him," Hypnos whispered in awe. "It is a great honor."

They stood in a garden of glowing green, penned in by arches of weathered stone. Flowers and ancient vines garnished the soft, manicured, grove. These colored curls bleached into a pale, bone white as they grew nearer to the billowing bulb of black at the center of this paradise. The sanctum of their twisted messiah. The Knightmare's own chambers.

Deep within the darkness, she could see his gnarled silhouette. The curves of his crystalline armor seemed to warble beneath the shifting shadow. His head looked heavenwards in a pose of rapture, and she could make out faint humanoid shapes lying at his feet. Black phantoms twisted and writhed inside the dome as if whipped into a frenzy by unforgiving winds.

He was so close. So damn close. The nearness of him made a mockery of her anger. There was nothing she could do to him now, alone and surrounded by his followers. He was more than a match for her, and there was no telling how powerful the Heralds would be. She'd need more trained Psions, which meant the WBI. It would be difficult to kill the Knightmare under their watch, but given the scope of his power she could probably convince them it was unavoidable. The hard part would be explaining how she could kill a man inside the dream.

Erebus seemed less than impressed as he eyed the dome with nothing more than an intentful gaze. Esme looked closer and sensed a faint Psionic wave emanating from him, towards the dome. A brief pause before something echoed back.

"He hungers," announced Erebus. "Our lord must feast tonight."

"The Hunters have arranged excellent prey for him," Pasithea shuffled forward. "As we speak they are guiding her here."

"Why has she not been brought here already?" Erebus snapped. Both of the other Heralds staggered back at the sudden outburst.

"She is strong," Hypnos stuttered. "Several of our best have already been beaten by her."

"I didn't ask for excuses, I asked you to serve," Erebus turned sharply towards Esme. "You will present yourself to him once he has sated his hunger."

"And when will that be?" she said. "If your Hunters are not up to the task..."

"They will succeed. But perhaps some assistance is in order." Erebus turned to his companions. "One of our newest recruits works at Fantasian, yes? She should have more information about our target - psychological data will ease capture." Hypnos and Pasithea nodded eagerly.

"Then is there anything else I'm needed for until that's done with?" asked Esme, pretending to stifle a yawn. . "My body is sleeping on a patch of dirt somewhere and I'd rather it move to a mattress so I don't wake up with a neck ache."

She needed time to convince Lucia to gather every WBI Psion she could find, and storm this dream. She'd already sampled its Tempo, tracking it down later would be trivial.

"You must first listen to our history," Erebus said, "our oppression. And our coming victory."

"It is vital you should know," chimed Pasithea. "Most acolytes learn this in their first few weeks, rising through the ranks. But yours is a-a special case, of course."

Esme shrugged. There was little sense in making them too suspicious of her early departure.

"Alright then."

Erebus nodded benevolently before raising his hands upwards.

"The beginning." A sliver of the blue sky above peeled away to reveal a section of mosaic as if the roof of a cathedral. It depicted a man standing beneath a glowing sun. He stretched out a benevolent hand towards several huddled figures cast in shadow.

"Bliss," the word was more breath than speech. "A proper purpose for every person. Masters. Servants. Slaves. Each accorded their due. Each kept in place. Some would call it cruel. But it is a mercy compared to what happened next."

The next panel of sky faded into darkness. Each huddled figure from the last stood above the first man, who was hunched and broken beneath their feet. Erebus's eyes took on a wild, vengeful cast. There was something false in it. Staged. Esme had seen the dreams of the mad. Erebus was perfectly, knowingly, sane. The only question that remained was whether he believed in this manifesto or not.

"They called it equality. But it came at a cost. Defiling our purity, refusing us our rightful place - what we deserved! They claimed virtue lived in the mind, but lusted for the flesh. Made royalty of apes, eroded families, opened the gates to savagery! Weakening the world, tearing at its foundations until...."

The remaining untarnished blue was cracked by lightning so bright it seared the sky with an afterimage of pure flame. It flashed the red and black of armageddon as the air dried and Esme felt her lungs begin to burn.

"Death. Devastation. Disaster. The punishment of those who presumed they could rule. The servants who disobeyed their masters - who stepped out of their proper place. The end of hypocrites and filth. The first sign of Knightmare."

Color washed away from the dream into muddy greys and whites.

"He burned away the light, for that world is but a pale reflection of the one pure dream."

The air continued burning. Hotter and hotter until she could barely breathe. Panic ran her through, sharp and staggering. Poison air. Unmasked.

"He drove the air from our lungs, for those who do not follow his command do not deserve breath."

She saw Pasithea and Hypnos gag and bring their hands to their chests. Their skin was red and peeling. Esme steeled herself and pushed back against the dream, Belief to weather the pain. But the detail of this experience was incredible. Assuming that Erebus didn't have the ability to steal memories, this pain had to have come from a recollection of his own.

"And so was Knightmare come."

The pain abated. A pulse of Psionic power burst from Erebus, reaching towards the Knightmare. Esme reached out to scan it. A plaintive, almost helpless agony layered atop defiant rage. Erebus snapped a look at her before she pulled away. There was venom in those eyes. Pasithea and Hypnos staggered to their feet and exchanged more nervous glances with each other.

Did they think she was trying to study the ritual? So she could replace Erebus? That would be a laugh.

All other thought vanished as power began to emanate from the Knightmare's sanctum. A wave of bliss washed over her. An overpowering sense of peace. Contentment with her past. Certainty of her future. She felt a sigh rise leisurely from her chest, before she pictured the Knightmare's empty eyes staring down at her from within the darkness. Rage sharpened her focus.

She could see Erebus's breath quicken, rapid excited flares of his nose. Hypnos's normally stoic face held an almost dreamy smile as his eyes fluttered open and shut. Pasithea had sunk to the ground, head lolled and spinning.

Disgust curled Esme's cheeks. They were high. Plain and simple. After subjecting themselves to the Knightmare's sick desires, he rewarded them with a shot of happiness straight to the brain. Their false god was a drug dealer.

But why did the Knightmare never even speak to his followers? Perhaps by using Erebus as his prophet, he could better cultivate a divine mystique.

Whatever the case they were distracted now. It was time to make her escape. Esme took a step back and faded from the dream.