Dream-Hunters - Chapter Twenty

Brushing your teeth with the enemy is actually pretty soothing, John thought as he lay down on the soft rug. Chaser had already collapsed on the armchair, snoring like an exploding chainsaw. His leg was draped over one armrest, his demonic eyes sealed shut.

The Dream-Hunters lay around John on the floor, fast asleep as well. Sophie had insisted that they all sleep in one area. She’d said it was strategic, but it was hard not to see the transparent smirk on her face.

John sighed, staring up at the dark ceiling. Truthfully, he should have gone to sleep ten minutes ago. He didn’t quite know how that time translated to the dreamworld, but it wasn’t hard to guess that he was late.

And who can blame me?  he thought. It was kind of hard to relax when the fate of the world rested on your shoulders.

A murmur from beside him floated by. “John,” Tessa mumbled softly. The girl drowsily reached for his body, grabbing at his sleeve. Still fast asleep, she pulled him closer, snuggling into his chest.

John smirked. Tessa was wholly and completely devoted to him.

A pang of guilt shot through him. “What am I doing to you,” he muttered, pulling their blanket over her.

His fingers brushed across her cheek. Soft…

He snapped his hand back to his side, face reddening. “Pervert,” he rebuked himself.

“John,” Tessa murmured, a little forlornly. She lazily flopped her arms over him, smiling as she fell to sleep once more.

John smiled, a bit more unsure, a bit more gentle. “It’s alright, Tessa,” he said, pulling her tight, warming her from the cold world. A black curtain descended as John’s eyes began to close. “I’ll...definitely...protect…”

The steady beat of his heart rocked him to sleep.

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Dreaming was a bit like sinking into a deep, dark river. The current ferried him effortlessly beneath a weeping sky of gray. John felt the ease of dreaming, to let his mind drift endlessly in this netherworld.

And he hated it.

Without hesitation, he surged upward, the river around him dyed a merciless red. He could feel himself crashing through a wall of mist, breaking the torpid clouds. Vibrant hues bled into the world around him as he brushed at the ripples of ether, and he felt the vague sensation of passing through a gate, into dark, hallowed air.

John felt the world capsize as he plunged from the ceiling. His head smashed against the ground, his body slumping over it like a tormented ragdoll.

“That was...significantly less cool than expected.” John collapsed on his back to see Sophie’s valkyrian image swimming above him. Around them was the familiar hall of Nightmare, a dark-purple madhouse.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, stumbling dizzily to his feet. Grimacing, he leaned against an amethyst wall while his addled mind reset itself. Sophie stood back, smirking as she stretched her snowy wings, polishing her azure armor.

“So,” John asked once the world no longer tilted to the left, “what now?”

“Phobos said to meet here,” Matthew said, walking up to them. His blue eyes glowed unnaturally beneath the cowl of his black cloak. “I suppose we’re just waiting on-”

“Oh!” Tessa dropped from thin air, squashing Matthew beneath her. The archer was knocked to the floor with a grunt.

Sophie burst into laughter. John gave her a long, hard look. “One of these nights, that’s going to happen to you,” he said.

“Ah! I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Tessa flustered as she got off Matthew’s back and stood up. “I’m still a bit new to this,” she apologized, offering her hand. The edges of her white gown rippled a little as she smiled.

“It’s fine,” Matthew replied graciously, taking her hand and standing up. “No harm done.” John could see that he was trying hard not to wince.

“Sometimes, crossing over can be tricky,” Sophie explained, clapping a hand around Tessa’s shoulders. “It’s like knowing that you’re dreaming while you dream - difficult to say the least.”

“Right...dreams.” Tessa put on a ponderous look, as though trying to recall something. “I was...floating...then I saw-

She cut off and stared at John, reddening. John quickly passed a hand across his face, sealing the Mask over it before anyone could catch his expression.

Sophie looked between them, a wry smile on her lips. “Right. Well, come on then. Let’s find their welcoming committee.” With that, they trotted off, Sophie striding ahead, Matthew limping, Tessa blushing and John bouncing off the walls trying to clear his head of the stray thoughts.

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They found their greeter in the throne room, mopping up the black blood while whistling a catchy tune. It was a woman in a sleek black musician’s jacket, her shirt untucked and half-buttoned.

“Hello?” Matthew called tentatively. The janitor looked up from her work, and Matthew noticed a cast around her right arm.

“Oh, great! I was wondering what could be delaying you.” The woman pulled her glove off with her teeth, kicking the cleaning supplies to the side. Running back, she jumped into the throne, lying across it like a couch. “You may kneel,” she said.

A brief silence soon followed. Sophie led the Dream-Hunters forward, coming to stand before the deathly throne. “We’re...alright,” she said apologetically.

“Oh.” The woman’s voice was tinged with sadness. “Well, I suppose you’re free to do as you please. Being our Chosen Ones and all that meadowlarkey.” Her finger tugged idly at her ebony jacket, her prim black hair falling a bit in her amber eyes. Her ageless countenance was pervaded by a grin.

“Do we know you?” John asked.

“Not in this form, no.” The woman sat up straight to address him, her cast swinging in its sling. She hunched over in her seat, a shadow falling over her. “You wouldn’t recognize me like this. Perhaps you would prefer me with a little less clothing?”

John made a high-pitched squeak behind his Mask, eliciting a chuckle from Sophie. The woman cackled as her shape bent and morphed on the throne, transforming into a familiar, avian creature.

“Crawwk.” A black crow strutted in place where the woman had sat. It cocked its head at the Dream-Hunters, beady eyes gleaming with mirth. A white bandage was wrapped around its right wing, which it tucked to its side.

“Exem’s crow!” Tessa exclaimed, rushing forward. She scooped the bird into her hands, excitedly rubbing her cheek against it. “So adorable!” she squealed, hugging it tight. Matthew and Sophie both raised an eyebrow at John.

“What?” he demanded.

“Nothing…” they said in unison.

The darkness whirled once more, and Tessa was hugging the black-haired woman around the waist. The crow-nightmare scratched her cheek. “Um...look, I’m flattered, but I don’t swing-”

“Ah! Sorry!” Tessa drew back, straightening the front of her dress.

The woman coughed. “Now then, where were we?”

“Naked crows,” Sophie prompted.

“Right, we-” The woman looked down, scowling. “I was introducing myself. Morrigan, the crow, at my own service.” She smirked, leaning an elbow on the throne’s armrest. “And newly instated ruler of the Castle of Nightmares.”

Matthew frowned. “You look more like a janitor to me.”

“Fish, fosh,” the woman waved his comment away. “Don’t sweat the small details. Anyway, Phobos is entrusting the Castle in my care while he goes off to fight Chaser. Excellent choice, wouldn’t you say?”

“You’re injured,” Matthew observed, looking at her cast.

“Well...yes, that too,” Morrigan admitted, staring down at her makeshift sling. “But I’ll be fine. I’m a nightmare, after all!” She grinned, jabbing a thumb at herself cockily.

“But enough pleasant-me’s.” The crow leaned forward, her gaze becoming serious. Her smirk hardened into a flat line. “You’re here because you’re the ones with the best chance of saving the worlds. Master Exem believes in all of you,” she said, looking at each of them in turn, “and that’s good enough for me.”

“Y-you’re sure we can?” Matthew asked. A part of him chided his insolence, but the other pleaded for confirmation.

The woman nodded. “Positive.”

“Oh.” Tessa’s voice was unsure, taken aback by the sudden change in atmosphere. “So, what do we do?”

“My dear, I’m glad you asked.” Morrigan produced an ancient scroll from behind her back; it was a weathered, cracked scrap of papyrus with a rotting purple seal. She tossed it to Sophie. “Behold my great prophecy.”

Sophie quickly opened the scroll, reading it aloud. “The Original Dream-Relic, as told by Phobos, as inscribed by Morrigan the Illustrious, the Great, Crow of Illusion, the Magnificent…” She fell silent as her eyes scrolled down the page. Eventually, she flipped it over, reading from the back. “...the Entrancing, #1 Waifu, and Sexiest Female Character.” She glanced up at Morrigan, who merely shrugged.

Sophie rolled her eyes and continued. “Eons ago, Phobos, King of Fears, sealed away the most powerful dream-relic ever created. He enlisted the most powerful nightmares to guard it in a tomb at the edge of the dream-world. Whosoever receives this scroll now holds the secrets to find this fabled place and claim the legend for their own.

“Journey to the land of the cold, where the…” Sophie trailed off, memorizing the rest. Closing the scroll with a satisfied nod, she turned to the others. “Right. First, we’ve gotta get there. Come on.”

“Hold on just a second.” John plucked the scroll from her hands as she turned, and waved it at Morrigan. “Can’t we have a shortcut? Considering, I don’t know, your world is ending?” His Mask didn’t move, but the words cut deep for him.

“Rules are rules,” Morrigan deflected airily. “But if you see anyone on your way, you’re welcome to tell them what’s going on.” She waved her hand to the side, and a portal splashed open beside the throne. “This is as far as I’ll help you. That’ll take you straight to the first task.”

The nightmare stood up, picking up the mop from where she’d tossed it to the floor earlier. “Seeya, kiddos,” she said, returning to her work, dancing to her beat as the mop wiped the tar away.

Matthew peered into the portal. The familiar iridescent swirl opened up into a grand light beneath him. Drawing a shaky breath, he stared at the others. “Are we ready?”

Tessa nodded, setting her lips sternly. Her Pendant gleamed at her chest as her eyes sparkled eagerly. “Let’s do it.”

Sophie summoned her Lance, striking the butt against the ground. Her armored form shone with a resolute light. “I’m ready when you are.”

John shrugged, adjusting his demon Mask noncommittally. “Whatever.”

Matthew reached into his cloak and drew his Bow. He nodded, letting the courage radiate from the dream-relics. His thoughts drifted to Arachne, and his mind grew sharp. He would do this for everyone. “Then it’s settled,” he said. “Tonight, we’re going to save the-”

“Get going already!”

Slender hands pushed on Matthew’s back, knocking them all into the portal. Looking up, he could see Morrigan standing over them, smiling as the Dream-Hunters fell into the multicolored nexus.

Matthew faced downwards, readying himself as he broke through the barrier of another dream.

He landed in something cold that seemed to bite with billions of tiny teeth. He scrabbled in the wet dust, one hand tightening around his bow. Matthew whipped his head around. It was dark, unbelievably dark.

He got to his feet hesitantly, putting his hand out to feel for something. Nothing answered his touch, except the wind that howled past his ears. A numbness set into his skin, as more of the soft pain pattered onto his face. It weighed on his shoulders as he edged forward.

“Sophie?” he called. “Tessa?” The darkness gave no answer, and the stinging softness rained down in heartless oppression.

Matthew pulled his cloak around him, relishing the warmth. It was obviously too dark to see, and the wind roared violently as it snatched at him, far too loud for anyone to hear over. He was lost.

“Don’t panic,” he murmured with numb lips. His father had taught him everything he needed in these scenarios; it had to be some kind of nightmare causing this. So he’d fight the fear, and escape this trap.

He raised his dream-relic, grasping blindly to find the bowstring. He stretched it taut, letting images of sorrow flood his mind. Images of a decorated coffin...his father crying...a single rose laid upon his mother’s grave. The sorrow pulsed through him, culminating azure. With this pain, he would conquer the shadows.

He felt the arrow form between his fingers, and his voice rang true. “Show me the light!” he cried, letting the Bow of Sorrows spring forward, releasing the arrow into the darkness. He waited there in the wind and snow for something to happen. Nothing did. He could not see where it had landed. He could not see anything.

“What…? No, no,” Matthew said, running in the direction he assumed the arrow had flown. “Maybe...it’s farther away?” He panted as he slogged through the frigid darkness.

The dust packed and caught around his boot, tripping him. He collapsed into the cold, getting to his knees and rummaging through it for any sign of his arrow, for any sign of light. There was nothing.

Shock crushed in from all sides. “I...no, it has to be here!” His fingers clawed at the snow, numbed into fat worms. The wet dust swirled down from the heavens, burying him alive.

Matthew began to feel a feverish heat, in spite of the chill. He felt his breathing slow, his thoughts melting away. His arm felt sluggish, barely responding to his commands.

“I...failed,” he realized as the snow entombed him completely.