Spell 8: Lovely nightmare

Death is a release, a sanctuary and a punishment. A warning and a blessing. The lord comes in many shapes and forms, many times humans don’t even know that the lord had graced their wretched lives. All simply because they felt a sudden urge to be whimsical.

A horrid lord. Truly a horrid, horrid lord. Desires, lust, passion and the rawness of soul, all eventually bleed away in the coldness of melancholic nights. An affiliate of nightmares that plagued his nights. In the nightmates his hands reached out to touch the softness of her skin. She smiled in the dark glamour of her being. She would whisper his name with an essence of allure that he could not and would not ignore.

“My sweet prince, Emerson.”

Her words were like a nectar to his tongue. Allured by an angel of death, he would watch her every night in those dreams. The perfection of her hips would sway Emerson's reason into oblivion. In those nightmares, nothing would matter. For she was the lord to him. She was his mantra. And she was his reason. The sweetness of her voice would echo into the emptiness of the streets. Much like the wetness of his cheeks when he would follow the phantom giggles of his new lord into the empty streets.

“I love you.” He would say the words to her in whispers, filling those nightmarish nights with nothing but his confessions.

For you have made me come undone of all that I am.

You are the nightmare that plagues, albeit you are the reason for my being.

How lovely you are, my nightmare, even as you lie through those sweet venomous lips.

“I love you.” He chanted like a mantra to his god. “I yearn for you, I desire you, I crave you- does your heart sing the same melody as mine? Does your soul ravish itself to be one with mine- o’ my sweet nightmare, won't you say something?” He would plead to her every night in his those desired nightmares, she would hold his hand and lead him to the ivory thorns that opened the gates to his real world. The real nightmare. 

A call to wake up. Those bloody lips would part with a beat of anticipation, she would cup Emerson's face with her hands like a web made for execution and pull him closer. Emerson would beg her, just a little closer- and she would giggle. He would ask again. “Do you love me?”

Like a witch who lies through her teeth to trap him in an inescapable curse, to forever bind Emerson into a slave contract. Her forever binded dog. Those eyes would form a crescent when those apple-like cheeks hike. “Of course, I love you. You are the only one who would truly ever love me.” She would tell him with absolute adoration. Even though he knew it was a lie, he would weep in delight as he sat on his knees before her.

O’ sweet venom, my absolute adored nightmare- my lovely liar, before you I am nothing but a slave. Forever undone of who I am, my entire being. For I am, yours.

And his eyes fluttered open. The dream was over and Emerson was back in the tent his soldiers had set up. The prison of his mind had opened up, waking him up from the delightful dream.

“Brother. We are ready.” In a low voice his brother called him from behind. Emerson's fingers tapped a wave of contemplation on the arm of his rocking wooden chair. A trickle of dried tears stained his cheeks. He exhaled deeply and rubbed his face clean. When Emerson had turned around, his brother had greeted him with a smile.

Dolled up in his armor as though he were out to walk in the war, Raynold walked behind his brother.

“Gather around my dear friends.” The emperor called the party of brave warriors he had assembled. Brave and unique.

A witch, a blind scholar, a tiger and a devil. Including his own brother in this party, a prince. A party of five to tackle the unknown chaos within.

“Though we are years apart in age, those who are in my land are no different than my dearest friends. As such, I need you to depart with a final piece of knowledge. Especially you, my dear.” Emerson lifted his chin towards Astrea. Unbeknownst to her knowledge, the emperor had tears in his eyes.

“Illusions of the past will haunt you in there, it will test you and your very being. It might even buy your soul for a mere exchange of momentary relief, my dears. That is, if you are not together. It is your utmost priority to stick together and never separate from each other. Hence, this party will be led by Prince Raynold. It will be his duty to make sure that you all are well and together. I hope there are no options.” The emperor questioned for the sake of courtesy.

He walked up to the blind scholar. The blind man had tied his eyes in an enchanted cloth of black and dusted gray, golden scriptures written on it. Emerson put his hand on both of Lain's shoulders. Lain flinched at the sudden touch but composed himself instantly. “Your majesty..”

“Do not hide your gift, my friend. It is a beautiful one and we will be needing it. I hope that you make the right judgement.” Emerson spilled words of riddles that no one understood, except Astrea.

Astrea had also expected an instruction, any kind would've been helpful. After all, she did not even know why they wanted to recruit her- a witch. Emerson understood the witch's weariness, he turned to the witch with glistened eyes. Her heart broke at the sight of Emerson's rosy eyes tearing up. He truly was at his most beautiful when he was smiling.

Emerson reached out, caressed the apple of her cheek with both of his hands. Her face flushed crimson, the emperor was far too close for her comfort. However, she knew he meant no harm. Warmth crept deeper into her heart when he held her face as though she was a fragile doll made of glass. One wrong touch and she would break. Emerson's eyes bore into hers, as though she was the most precious person to his heart.

“O’ dear Astrea. I want you to know that you are the most special one of us all. Do you know why no monster has breached the borders of the dungeon and attacked us?” He asked knowingly. Astrea shook her head, unable to form words. “Because you are here. That is your role. As long as it is what you wish, no monster has the power to defy that. That is your gift, the blessing of the goddess.”

Emerson let go of Astrea's face as he led the group in front of the dungeon gate. A gate that stood by itself. Pale walls soaring the skies as if it were a gateway to another world. Ivory frame adorned with pale thorns. The door that Emerson often saw in his nightmares, the door that was his pathway to his everything.

“Even this dungeon cannot defy you. You are to venture inside, get the scriptures from the old tablet records and bring them back with you. That is your role. The dungeon will do everything in its power so that you are not able to but it cannot hurt you. It cannot enchant you. It cannot do anything to you. That is why, if everyone happens to forget everything your party had discovered, you will still remember it all. You are the moon goddess's daughter, the one that made this world. Only you can save it from the impending doom.”

Emerson gave Astrea a little push from behind. A doubtful frown creased her brows as her fellow party mates joined beside her. “But…” She wanted to protest. Protest what? She did not know. Emerson fully smiled as he signaled his soldiers to fire the fireworks. A form of declaration to the world that there was no going back.

The tiger whispered something in the witch's ear, causing the doubt to leave her mind. Lain was tensed and rightfully so. This one moment would decide his future. “Like I said before, we will protect you. You have nothing to fear. Lord Valentino.”

With a sigh, they finally turned around and entered the illuminated gates of the dungeon. What kind of punishment awaited them for daring to defy the rules set by the goddess, was unknown to the emperor. However, he knew that he had no other methods left at his disposal.

“O’ my dearest venom, Luna..”