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by blockcoder on Thu Apr 08, 2010 10:02 pm
((Sorry about being so late guys. So many tests, so little time.))
Darkness. If Naleuk had to describe the place he was now, that's all he'd say. He stood alone, for all he knew. Naleuk tried to remember what was going on, where he was, or, if he was lucky, why he was here. Then, as though a mental dam had suddenly burst, he remembered. The explosion, the gun shot, the Widow, and the terrifying man - it all came rushing back to him. He started to reach for his weapons, then stopped. Wasn't he supposed to be asleep? And where was the man? He could only assume he had woken up in some sort of jail, held by whoever this "Council" was.
Without warning, the darkness Naleuk stood in dissolved into red hot flame. He could feel the intense heat on his skin, yet he, nor his clothes, were being burned. The crimson tongues swirled around him, threatening to turn his flesh into ash in an instant. In any other circumstance, he would have been afraid. So why wasn't he?
"Because this is a dream."
The fierce, scratchy voice of a woman spoke from the flame. In front of him, the fire was churning in the shape of a grotesque face. He could barely make out its eyes and mouth.
"Well, that makes perfect sense. I'm having a dream about a fire-thing talking to--"
Naleuk stopped short. He recognized that voice. It was it. The voice that had suddenly appeared in his head, yet felt like an old friend.
"Is this how you see me now, Naleuk? The vague likeliness of a fire demon?"
Where had he heard that voice?
"Or perhaps you do not remember me. Perhaps there is more powerful magic at work than you can comprehend."
Hearing it clearly stirred up feelings: passion, hunger, desire, and a powerful instinct of protectiveness.
"It is time to wake, Naleuk. Do not let me in, no matter your situation. I will consume you. Leave now. Warn your people. We are coming."
An image flashed in his head, and he woke.
Naleuk did indeed wake, but he kept his eyes closed. Not too difficult for a trained killer, especially one warned beforehand of waking up. Cold marble floor. Small room, judging by the echoes. Four people: first, the man that captured him; the smell of a Kelhani, possibly civilian; the stench of a Nezrith, from the battle; and himself. This was going to be a hell of a ride.
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