Crimson Twilight: Ch.1

Part One:
Fear and Dreams












Chapter One:
Ripples of the Twilight

In empty darkness lies an ancient fear . . .

         Caelan’s eyes blinked open to blackness. Stars spun around him, above and below.

If what we know we build upon . . .

         “Where am I?” he asked to no one, although in the back of his mind he already knew the answer. The dream had been plaguing him for the past few nights. It consumed his thoughts during the day.

Then we’ve brought on our world’s demise . . .

         “H-hello?” The dream had him. Speech was nearly a vain effort; for the first time he actually managed to utter the hollow greeting.

For there’s a seeker lurking in the stars . . .

         On the distant horizon, if one were to exist within a star-filled void, the light reached out. Initially a faint maroon, it then encompassed the void in an angry red. The heat of its rays engulfed Caelan, covering his body in a slick, cold sweat. He gasped for air.

If happiness could be enough . . .

         Below his dangling feet, the vast forest surrounding his home sped upwards to meet him. When his feet hit solid ground, he looked above at the canopy of tall pines and oaks through black strands of hair that fell over his eyes. Pine cones and needle-leaves crunched beneath his boots, drowning the cacophony of chatting birds. Sounds he’d long become accustomed to. Sunlight ignited the narrow trail ahead of him as he proceeded to walk down it. He was oblivious of having been in any scarlet void, but the thought of its depths pricked his mind subconsciously.

Our hatred would not feed . . .

         Something wasn’t right. The dream would normally end here.

         Dream? “Am I dreaming?” he asked, glancing through the trees. Somewhere in his mind, he knew he was sleeping in his bed. He also knew a heavy pressure was mounting between the eyes of his physical self, threatening to shatter his skull. When he looked up at the blue sky, with startling clarity he became conscious. The pressure stopped as suddenly as it had come, and the prospect of being awake within the dream-world turned him giddy.

         Lucidity. He was an avid reader, devouring anything with words he could get his hands on. He had read a passage in a book about this state. It claimed that the dreamer, upon reaching this state, could shape the dream-world any way they pleased or do anything they wanted.

         Fearing he might wake up given this rare realization, he lifted his arms and willed himself to soar high above the trees. He laughed as he shot up through the umbrella of leaves yet found the act of flying took some effort; almost like trying to swim through thick water. Exhilarated nonetheless, he watched the landscape diminish below him. The tiny streets and rooftops of Finne village stretched against the horizon. He and his family lived on its north fringes, seldom traveling outside of its boundaries.

         “Wait until I tell Isabelle about this!” he exclaimed. Actually, he knew his sister wouldn’t care.

         “So what, Caelan?” she’d say. “It was just a stupid dream.”

         The only time Isabelle seemed to take an interest in his affairs if it was to tease him about Seren, their friend who lived on the outskirts as well. Every time she was around he found himself stuttering uncontrollably, unable to maintain his composure. But then again . . . he imagined nearly every boy in Finne reacted the same way around her— breathless. She had violet eyes, very unusual, and just past shoulder length amber hair. So what if she was taller than him and a year older? He was sure she felt the same way about him.

         She came into view next to him and his breath caught. He’d almost forgotten where he was. When he remembered, she shimmered out of view. Shrugging thoughts of her away, he ascended, rolling through the layers of thin clouds. His coat flapped like a banner in the currents of wind— its velocity was increasing.

         Abruptly, when the thought of something not being right struck again, he found himself falling. Lucidity kept a firm grip, yet he was helpless against the speed of his descent. The landscape was rapidly rising to embrace him.
The earth undulated and glimmered like a heat wave. Forest, cottages, towers and narrow cobblestone streets gave way to desolate plain. Battered, leafless trees and scattered rocks dotted the panorama as he drew near. He had read about battles, but what he saw after being thrown upon the ground was beyond anything he could’ve imagined.

         Wave upon wave of knights flowed against one another, creating a deafening symphony of ringing metal, blistering cries, and trampling feet. Stampeding hooves and cannon booms blended to create a chaotic beat. Futile to cover his ears.

This cold evil, this fathomless being . . .

         Silence partnered with the sudden stillness. Everything, even the clouds of dust and low-hanging mist were frozen in time. In awe, he worked his way through the mass of knights. Most of them lied in mutilated heaps with axes, swords and lances jutting from their armor. Many had died in an explosion of gunpowder and had been reduced to mere convoluted flesh and metal.

         Grimacing, he noticed the long, oddly etched blade in his right hand. He swung its slightly curved length and it screamed through the air maddeningly. It was vaguely familiar and tugged at something embedded deep within his chest.

         When the pressure returned between the eyes of his physical self, he became aware of a stirring in the air— a ripple. Black clouds that moved at breakneck speed appeared over the mountain crest on the east horizon. They swept past the crest and covered the sky in a rush, obliterating the already sparse light. The darkness disoriented him and he tried to will himself back into the air. He couldn’t. Lucidity denied him the free will he possessed moments before.

         “Relax your thoughts,” he whispered to himself.

         He lifted his arms to his side and closed his eyes. A faint light glowed behind his lids. Had they been open, he would have noticed the full moon come into view and fill almost the entirety of sky. It shifted from its usual silver-white to a dull orange. Scarlet tendrils crept along its face like red dye dripped into a glass of water and engulfed it. They seeped from the edges and into the sky itself, consuming it and covering the ground, mist and himself in its crimson hues. Silently he watched the moon and sky crack open. They left behind gaping wounds that poured forth a mass of glowing red coils. One of them slithered down and slammed on the horizon, rocking the earth. The impact sent him falling on his back. Another tendril touched down. And another. And another. In less than the time it took for him to recover his stance, the horizon was a wall of seething red vines that reached from the sky to the ground. The wall then approached like a wave as hundreds of the coils descended.

We will suffer upon blackened ground . . .

         He ran, not knowing what else to do. His head swam with a torrent of frenzied thoughts as he struggled to maintain his balance against the rumbling shock-waves. Gusts of wind pelted the air. Over them, a low wail rose from the distance. It grew louder as it gained momentum, bringing chills that streamed against his arms and neck.

         The multitude of clashing knights grew tighter as he ran ahead, squeezing his way through the entanglement of bodies. Red light rippled against their armor, reflecting itself on his panicked eyes. The sky had turned into a striation of black and crimson tendrils. Behind him, the seething wall was drawing nearer.

         “Wake up!” he shouted. Lucidity would not grant him the luxury. A tree spun through the air, whooshed by his head, and disappeared into the writhing wall.

         “This is only a dream,” he reminded himself as he felt himself being swept in, as well.

         His feet left the ground and his screams were muted by the howling wind. When his breath left his body, he stared at his darkening world from high above. Once again wrapped in the starkness of the void, he became ignorant of the lucid dream that had him in its grasp seconds before. Stars spun around him, above and below.

When darkness collides with our hate . . .