“Hui,” is all I can manage to say. I open my mouth, but words do not come. My last encounter with Hui Long was so planned—I knew exactly what I wanted to say to her, how I wanted to break her.

  But now… I don’t even know if this is the real her.

  It certainly seems like her as she stalks up the hill, ruining the witch’s tea party. Thraevirula glares down at Hui, drawing her own sword now. It screams out the scabbard like some unholy beast wrenching forth from the gloom, iron raw and yearning for the taste of blood.

  “Get out,” Thraevirula says. Her intonation is slow—no hint of flirtation or playfulness. All business, all menace. “Get out of my dreamscape.”

  “Let my frie—let him go first,” Hui responds. I stiffen. She was about to call me her friend. Well, good on her for recognizing the truth. That time has long passed.

  Stop. She’s here to help.

  Is she though? Or is she just trying to use you?

  How is she here in the first place?

  Too many questions, and no answers, as usual. This song and dance is so maddening. I stand and hold my hands out.

  “No,” I order. “This is not happening. I need both of you to explain this to me—

  “Sit down Raiten, the adults are talking,” Thraevirula says, not even looking at me. Then, her eyes widen, as if realizing she made some type of mistake. She turns to me, all smiles once more: “I didn’t mean it like that dear Raiten. What I meant was—”

  Before she can answer, the Dragon of Wind spurs forth from Hui Long’s blade and slams into the witch, wrestling her into the sky. Thraevirula bares her teeth like fangs and slams her teacup into the dragon’s wind-formed bodice. Of course, that does nothing.

  I watch with muted disdain as the two are carried off far into the field of giant blades and spears, battling like some ancient primordials.

  “Raiten,” Hui says, putting her hand on my shoulder. I shrug her off and scramble away, glaring daggers at her. “Raiten I’m here to—”

  “How in all the hells are you even here?” I ask. “Is this even the real you? This isn’t some… dream-copy of you is it?”

  “No, no, it's the real me. My actual body is with Gareth right now, taking a nap in a forest near the pass to the Boar Ranges.” She holds her left hand up, palm flat out, as if trying to negotiate with some villain. Of course she sees you like some threat, you idiot. You’ve only shunned her help, scorned her, mauled her. Why should she treat you any different?

  I take a deep breath in.

  Forget the past for just a single second.

  Focus on the now.

  “Thraevirula said this is a dream-scape. So, if my dreams and hers are merging, then how —”

  “Look, we don’t have much time. I’m here because my affinity with spirits and destiny grants me visions. I even saw your fight in the illusion-trap that she set. This is less dangerous than that—your real body won’t emanate the damage you take in these dreams. But, you shouldn’t stay long regardless. She’ll get in your head—affect your psyche. There’s a chance she could even trap you in eternal sleep. We need to leave,” Hui says, talking at a rapid, worried speed.

  From her sword, three more dragons are released: Darkness, Light—pure white and shimmering like some phantom—and the Dragon of Aether, blue and somewhat translucent. They swim into the air and trail after their wind dragon brother, no doubt to stall Thraevirula off further.

  The revelation shocks me; makes me feel violated, to a degree. She saw me in such a vulnerable state of defeat and I didn’t even notice. But I don’t have time to be embarrassed or annoyed.

  “Alright, how do I get out?” I ask.

  “If we were still in your dreamscape, it would be easier. However, now that both your dreamscape and Thraevirula’s have merged… you’ll need to bend your mind. Believe in an exit.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “It's a dreamscape Raiten. These magicks are unstable—if you can just… think it, it might happen. But you have to be quick. The longer we stay here, the more her dreamscape colonizes yours and then—”

  “I tried what you said already. It didn’t work.”

  She exhales, eyes searching the sky for Thraevirula. “What do you usually dream about? That might help. If you can manifest that—”

  “I’m afraid that would be quite difficult for Raiten,” a voice intrudes. Thraevirula lands back in front of us… except she’s different.

  Much different.

  A cape of black dots runs along her chain linked dress. It takes a bit for me to realize that they aren’t dots. Rather, they are little black bugs. Some I recognize from the Red Forest—things Sorina called ticks. Hundred of them—no, at least a thousand.

  And now the Witch of Plagues wears a crown of rats. Big, brown, dead rats with their tails tied together. Their body’s droop around her head. Their hollow eyes seem to peek at my soul.

  I shake myself out of the trance.

  Hui’s dragons hound after Thraevirula from the sky, but they are quite far from us now. How did she move so fast?

  “After all,” Thraevirula begins. “Raiten is but a mere spectator in most of his dreams. I should know—I’ve borne witness to quite a few of them. What a poor, tortured soul he is. Especially by you.”

  “Shut up,” Hui says, leveling her blade at Thraevirula.

  “I’ve got to say, you surprised me for a moment. But, as impressive as your dragons may be in the mortal plane, here, you’re in my world. So, you’re going to play by my rules.”

  “As if, you child murdering bitch—” Hui begins.

  She doesn’t get very far, mostly because, without any wings or propulsion, Thraevirula flies into Hui and takes her into the sky.

  …

  Hui:

  I’ve fought a dragon well-versed in dream magicks before. I only won that by finding an exit path in my own dreamscape and killing the beast in reality.

  Unfortunately, that’s not an option here.

  The Witch grinds the meteor blade against my dragon sword as we rip across the sky.

  “What did you do Ashtar?” I spit.

  “Oh the old man? Guess.” She pushes off me, flinging me back. She can fly with whatever dream-conjured abilities she possesses.

  I cannot.

  Worse, if I die here, I go brain-dead in reality.

  With that in mind, for the first time in over a year, I summon eight out of nine dragons.

  Ice, my favorite, catches my fall. Wood and Fire cover my blade. I let Water slick out from my back—the dragon acting as a sentinel, to fire highly-concentrated, cutting rays of acidic liquid.

  Wind, Darkness, Aether, and Light return to me from the North. They shrink and coil around my limbs, snake around my arms and legs, forming my armor.

  Surprisingly, Thraevirula just lets this happen. She does not try to capitalize on any of my openings. Of course, if she did try attacking me mid-summoning (like I expected her to), I’d use Wood and Fire to kamikaze her.

  But no. She just floats midair, her cape of ticks billowing. Idly, she blows some wind up to displace a rat blocking half of her vision. Doesn’t work.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  What are you waiting for? Does it matter that she’s not attacking?

  She killed one of your old masters. Even if Ashtar was an asshole, he didn’t deserve whatever this bitch probably did to him.

  Kill her.

  Use the Ninth.

  I shake my head. Not yet. Can’t do that yet. Not until Basilbane.

  This will be enough. It has to be.

  “I see I’m getting the full-treatment. Quite the honor, being in the presence of the nine dragons. Why is it that I count eight? Am I not worthy of that one?”

  “Just… shut up and fight me.”

  The Witch sighs, flips her hair and some of the rats that fringe her face. “You know, you too are boring. Probably more so than Raiten. It's no wonder that the snake told me not to deal with you.”

  The wind of this imagined world screams.

  “What did you say?” I ask.

  “You heard me, little girl. Holy hell you are dumb. Oh, I know. Let’s make a bet. If you win against me here and now, I’ll let you know where your prey is. How does that—”

  I slash the sword up. From that slash, a blast of flame enshrouded wood shards hails her way. She doesn’t dodge.

  The shards stick like arrows—pump her and burn her.

  The Witch’s head snaps back as one particularly sharp splinter goes through her skull, leaves a scorching mark.

  Blood trickles down and around her nose, covers her lip.

  The Witch begins to laugh. She brings her head back down to level a stare at me.

  “Again.”

  My body begins to hum with the energy of my dragons.

  “With pleasure,” I say.

  She just licks her lips in response.

  …

  Raiten:

  Nothing I try works. Not summoning lightning, amulets, the wind magicks Sorina uses, the soulfire of Baroth—not even trying to summon an exit or a backdoor, like Hui said.

  But why do you want to escape so bad?

  Weren’t you considering taking the deal?

  The problem is, I can’t make a decision. My heads a splitting mess—too much is happening, all at once. I need time to think. But I won’t get that time. Especially not with Hui and Thraevirula fighting, cracking the skies like descendants of the fabled Jade City.

  My eyes stray once more to their battle.

  Except… there’s nothing. I looked away for a moment. You can’t tell me—

  I lose my footing. Stumble. Try standing. Stumble again. The world quakes, and I hear the screams of some old, long-dead beasts that no man should hear. The true Eldritch.

  I cover my ears. Close my eyes.

  The Tower ingrained in me a survival instinct. The knowledge that, some powers cannot be fought. Cannot be looked upon. Many of them still roam our wretched world, but most have passed on. Been lost to the annals of time. Their echoes are what make the Eldritch—the bastards like Baroth’s vessel and those wolves I fought after Hui.

  Somehow, someway, Thraevirula has summoned them.

  My heart pounds like a ram against a portcullis.

  Even when I cover my ears, the sound reaches me.

  Brings back some bad memories of my own nightmares. My own personal demons.

  I can’t help but yell. Clench at the grass. Roll like an animal.

  There’s no escape.

  There’s no escape.

  Wait. There’s no escape? That’s it.

  That clarity of thought helps me consecrate myself to this plane. I jam my fingers into my ears, pop my ear drums till they bleed and all sound goes mute.

  There is no escape. Never has been.

  Every night you are haunted. You are not a lucid dreamer.

  So don’t try to be.

  I open my eyes. Stand, despite the quaking ground. Then, the quaking ceases—as if it never occurred in the first place. Finally, I see the aftermath of their battle. Hui crawls in the valley below, legs broken, left eye scarred. She bleeds all over.

  Thraevirula stalks her from behind.

  Clenching my teeth, I slide down from the Witch’s tea-party and make my way towards them.

  “Thraevirula!” I yell.

  The Witch of Plagues turns to regard me. She looks unmarred—whatever damage Hui might’ve dealt her was obsolete.

  “Apologies Raiten. Had to deal with our little interloper.”

  “Raiten—” Hui wheezes. “Don’t…”

  She stops talking entirely. For a frightening moment, I think she’s dead. But then, I look at her face and see the issue.

  Her mouth is gone.

  A flap of skin replaces it.

  When she tries speaking, all is muffled. When she tries screaming, I can’t help but look away from her. It is a horrifying sight.

  “Now Raiten, what do you say?” Thraevirula begins, ignoring Hui. “Any number of your amulets for an equal number of my cures? You get to save that little girl, rid your conscious of any guilt, and continue on with what really matters. Killing every,” she vanishes in the blink of an eye, her form phasing out. Then, I hear her voice right next to my ear: “Last.” When I turn to the sound, she’s gone, this time, breathing down my other ear, speaking slowly: “One of them. Every last Elder. Masaru, Kai, Daichi, Renji.”

  She touches a freezing finger to my neck, making my skin crawl and tingle. I stumble forward. Spin to face her. And once more, she extends the white gloved hand.

  “I’ll even help you kill them—an added bonus for your purchase. So, what do you say?”

  I look at her hand, considering. It's tempting to be sure. But rather than the offer, only one thing she said echoes through my mind right now:

  ‘If you're trying to control your dreamscape, I’m afraid it doesn’t quite work like that. You aren’t exactly a lucid dreamer Raiten—I can tell.’

  So, if her mindscape and mine are merging, and she’s able to beat Hui, the most powerful person I know, without taking a single scratch, then…

  I don’t even realize I’m laughing until Thraevirula’s own grin falters slightly.

  “Is that a yes Raiten?” she asks.

  I stride up to her, ignoring the muted, horrified protests of Hui Long.

  “You were right Thraevirula,” I begin, extending my hand. “I’m a simple man.”

  Her confidence surges with that. She knows she has me, just as Pamela knew she had me when she mentioned Masaru.

  So I reach my hand out to hers…

  And slither past her grasp, instead snatching her wrist. Her smile falters, and she tries pulling her hand back.

  “What are you—”

  “I’m a simple man, Thraevirula,” I begin, cutting her off. “I can’t dream lucidly like you do—can’t make myself a Primordial within my own dreamscape.”

  She eventually gives up on tugging her hand away and instead presses her blade into my chest, drawing blood. I shrug, then step into the blade, feeling the pain blossom.

  She looks at me as if I’m mad.

  I gasp the raw metal with my other hand, pulling it deeper, pulling her closer to me.

  “Do you know,” I begin to whisper. “Why immortality is a curse?”

  “Are you—what is this?” she asks.

  My grip on her hand tightens. “You think you know everything about me, don’t you? I don’t blame you. You’ve no doubt perused my memories, my past, my visions. What, with all your magicks and dreamscape violations, you must think you have me figured out. But Thraevirula, can you even begin to fathom what immortality truly means?”

  There’s a flicker of something in her eyes. It's small, almost imperceptible. But I know fear when I see it.

  She doesn’t know what I’m talking about, doesn’t know what I’m about to do. She tries backing away, tries escaping. My grip is too tight—I’m learning the twisted logic of this dreamscape as well. As long subconsciously, I believe I’m stronger than her, then in this merging of our minds, I am stronger than her.

  “Let me go!” she hisses.

  “Answer the question.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  “Then, allow me to demonstrate.” Suddenly, the darkness encroaches upon the glades. A complete and utter void black colonizes the giant swords, the spears, the grass, the little scones splayed about the broken table—until all is consumed, except for Thraevirula, Hui, and I. I glance back to Hui, and see the look of shock in her eyes. She’s not trying to speak anymore through that flap of skin—I can’t willfully undo it and I don’t try to. I just want her to watch.

  Because none of what I’m doing is lucid. Deliberate.

  I’m just letting go.

  “You see, oh mighty witch of plagues, I may not be able to dream lucidly. But for ten years, the only company I had in the dark were my nightmares.”

  From the crevices of black come forth daemons and djinn, half giants and eldritch wolves, war monkeys and wyvern. Afrasiyab, the dueler. Even Baroth flies high above, as if commanding the beasts from my past.

  “For ten years, from boy to manhood, I fought monsters. Was ripped apart by daemons, had my guts feasted upon by wolves, had my limbs crushed by half-giants and devs—now, witness my retinue of horror.”

  Thraevirula’s eyes go from beast to beast, monster to monster. Her mouth hangs agape.

  “You shouldn’t be able to do this. You’re not skilled in dream magicks,” she mutters, as if trying to cope with what she’s seeing.

  “Of course I’m not. This is just the only way I know how to dream. Now, Thraevirula, answer the question: do you know why immortality is a curse?”

  “You bastard Raiten, we could’ve had a deal,” she spits. Finally, she is able to twist her hand away and pull her sword from my chest. She stumbles back, waving the blade around. “I won’t let you free of this dreamscape. I swear.”

  “That’s the wrong answer Thraevirula.” The monsters come forth now, drawing their attention not to me, but to the witch. They can smell her fear in here.

  “Stay away!” she yells. She tries holding her hand out, and for a moment, the darkness of this realm retreats. However, it comes back just as quick and she’s left staring at her hand, wondering how my dreamscape overpowers hers.

  “The answer, Thraevirula, is pain. Now, let’s see if you can handle even a fraction of what I endured over the past ten years.”

  With that, I snap my fingers: “Hunt.”

  There’s a cacophony of roars, screeching, and screaming hell before every single monster of my past hounds after the Witch of Plagues.

  I smile just as she begins to scream.