Dreamwhisper

Chapter 1

“We are getting closer. I can feel the energy building,” the nobleman said, looking around.

The two men were in a narrow cave outcropping off the main tunnel they had been traveling down for several days. They had a small fire to help with the lack of light and to let their mana return from the constant use of the mage light spell. It was a common enough spell that even children learned, and while not being mana-intensive, it still strained your mana channels after long uses.

He had a journal open in his lap that he had been rereading for the last half hour since they had made camp. When they came across this little outcropping, the small man, his guide, begged him to stop for a break. He was reluctant but figured he had to pretend to care. You did not want your only companion in a small hole in the world to run off or stab you in your sleep after all.

“Sir, you’ve been saying that for the better part of the morning, and still, these tunnels go on forever,” the small man said.

The noble wondered if he should feel bad that he still had not learned his name even though they had been traveling together for six days. Did it matter when this power was so close? This tiny man’s existence was to serve in some form or fashion from master to master or whoever would pay the highest that year. He found the man in a tavern in Holmberg seven days ago after arriving in town looking for a guide through the ancient tunnels. The man had lied about being able to guide him, but he still needed a local in case he ran into others. The local priests liked to come down here and would be more than happy to take your coin to “ease your burden of travel and support their gods.”

The small man looked at his newest mark impatiently, knowing he only had a few more days before the others started asking where he had gone. He had to get this done quickly. When his master had let him go on this ‘personal expedition,’ he had only given him two weeks to complete it. ‘I have to work faster,’ he thought anxiously.

He knew this man had plenty of coin from the way he stood. He reeked of self-importance and nobility but knew he would be worth it. The noble had promised him twenty gold for his time, after all. Strangely, he had not boasted about his wealth or heritage like the others he had met. Even his current leader in Holmberg was another lesser noble who thought way too much about himself—constantly throwing his family name around even though he was only a Baron. ‘Pride is so easy to manipulate for self-gain,’ he thought with a small smile. This one was different, though.

The nobleman was tall with broad shoulders. He had well-kept, short brown hair with a slight beard on his face. He wore an impossibly dark blue robe, almost the color of midnight, lined with slightly ragged gold trim. He had a black leather chest piece and shoulder guards to top it off. His face was hard like a warrior’s, and he walked with grace and conviction at every step, even though he was dressed like a noble mage. It was very misleading and confusing. ‘Battle mage, maybe?’ he thought. ‘No, the Crown had outlawed that two centuries ago in the kingdom after the last great war.’

On top of that, he sensed little mana within him. No, this one was just another rich asshole who wanted to play the hero explorer with daddy’s coin. And he would happily take it.

After another half hour of rest, they set out again.

The tunnels were hot, unnaturally so, and the further they went, the worse it seemed to get. An ancient, forgotten kingdom had crafted these tunnels in a time the world had forgotten. The mysterious noble stood to the side, admiring the walls and decayed art. Their stonework, once the beautiful work of expert stonemasons, was now too worn and broken to see the full beauty it once was. No book spoke of their conquests or their fall. Hells, no one even knew the original name at this point. A true lost kingdom of unknown treasure and wonder, though he was here for no trinkets.

He had searched for years for a reference to the flash images, trying to prove any kernel of truth to what he dreamt. For so long, he had those dreams. The screams and anguish that he felt were too much to bear on those nights, but the power... oh yes, the power. It felt unlike anything he believed could ever have existed. Almost taunting him till he finally read of the Holmberg Settlement, which, after very grueling research, he could finally confirm was built on the skeleton of the ancient ruins nine centuries before. ‘Please let this one be it,’ he thought. ‘This has to be it.’

He had learned the locals never ventured into the tunnels because of the screams emanating from them on rare nights. No one could explain their reason other than spirits as the most expected cause. Occasionally, Mages and Priests would be called to cull the would-be spirits, but it never worked for long. Locals occasionally venture into the tunnels with the Mages and Priests but never far enough to have influence. The heat and their fear would always push them away.

“Sir, I believe it's time to return.” the small man said. “There is nothing to find here. This is further than anyone has ever traveled, and we passed the final outpost two days ago. I know I should not question you with what you are paying me, but something in my heart tells me we need to return.”

He looked back at the small man in the glow of the blue-white mage light and paused momentarily, wiping the sweat from his neck. Had he been wrong about the power? He could feel something his mind told him was this power but could see nothing solidifying they were close.

“Was it just a dream with no meaning? Was it just a nightmare manifesting from desire? Have I lost myself like my family said?” whispering to himself.

‘Could this be some residual energy or a forgotten relic from some long-lost time?’ He had spent half his considerable wealth. His robes were tattered beyond repair in his mind, and his last supplies were running low. All they had left was in the small man’s backpack and his satchel. He had lost all he cared for in this search for this unknown power. ‘Was it truly time to stop?’

Then it happened.

He turned quickly to see a faint green and purple light as if it were reaching for him, and it slowly began to build. His heartbeat quickened, and all the doubt faded away in an instant. ‘The feeling was real! The power was real!’

The small man looked around the area, getting increasingly annoyed by the minute. When he finally built the courage to tell the mysterious nobleman he was done, he noticed the green and purple light, and his blood froze.

“What in all the hells is that?” the small man said as he stepped away. All he could think of was run.

“DO NOT MOVE!” the nobleman shouted, and the small man froze. “I will double your fee if you continue with me! If you stay, you will no longer be a servant but a free man to do as you please. No more serving and no more masters. If you stay, your name will be written in stone as the first.” He lied, leaning into the man’s greed.

The small man paused and considered the offer. The first? After a slight pause, he answered, “Triple and my name are still in stone.” Slowing his wild heart.

“Triple,” he agreed, “but you must do what I say without question.”

“Yes, Sir,” the small man added with a nod and a weary smile.

They continued forward toward the green and purple light.

The tunnel opened into a small room twenty paces between either wall. However, the walls here were pristine compared to the rest of the tunnels. It was as if the artisans had just finished the work a day prior. They both stood in awe, taking in the artistry. Ornate carvings and strange designs blanketed the walls from floor to ceiling, with every edge and curve crafted with the utmost precision and adoration. They were runes and symbols that he had never seen before but felt familiar simultaneously. The room had only one door he could see, which was strange, being they had traveled so far to reach this point just for this room. In the middle of the room, there was a stone pedestal. Waist high and utterly devoid of any markings.

After a long moment, the small man took a few steps forward and finally said, “Is this what we came for? Just a light? Is this all that my people fear so much? We have spent an inconceivable amount of coin on Priests and Mages to have the howl of wind be the cause of our fear?” letting out a forced laugh.

“Fear does that sometimes, but something is different about this place.” The nobleman walked closer to the walls. He was examining them. “All this effort by these ancient people to burrow into the world. Deep enough that it took us six days to reach this point, to end. Here. Why here?” He reached into his satchel and pulled out another worn journal. He flipped the pages of his extensive research notes to see if these strange symbols matched anything he had encountered. Nothing. ‘Why is this small room so well preserved, but the rest of the ruins are gone?’ Wondering to himself.

“Sir, if I may? Please, let us leave this place. There is nothing here and I...”.

The nobleman ran his hand across the wall and then to his journal, “This is amazing. So many languages are written here, some I have never seen before.” Standing and moving to the other side of the room. “This is it. This feeling is what I have been searching for; I know it.” Pointing to a symbol, “This one is not even from our world! Come inside and look at this.” He pointed and started taking notes. “Come on, man, stop being a coward.” He called. Still no response.

He turned to the small man, realizing he had stopped talking abruptly, but quickly noticed he was not moving. No breath left his lips, and no movement of his eyes as if he was frozen. ‘It is as if he had been stopped in time itself, but how?’

He circled the small man, trying to figure out what had happened, and then he heard a whisper coming from the depths of his mind. It was unmistakable and clear, but it was also as if his mind would not allow him to comprehend what was said. But he would know that voice anywhere—the voice from his dream.

The dream had come almost every night for as long as he could remember, and he would never mistake that voice. He stepped forward into the room feeling a draw, and before he realized it, he was standing in front of the pedestal with one hand in the center. A strange symbol started to glow with a faint green and purple hue. ‘No, it’s not a symbol but a spell array,’ He realized. Circular patterns overlapped angular symbols, and before he could move his hand away, he heard the voice again, but this time, it was different. He could understand what it had said.

“Marked one… Choose… Soul given… Soul taken…” it boomed.

This time, so deep, his eyes began to water. He grabbed his head not out of physical pain but the reverberation of the voice in his mind. All he could do to stop himself from falling over was to reach for the only object in sight, the pedestal.

When he did, something unique happened: the whole room began to glow with a deep green light that he had never seen anywhere but in his sleeping mind. Every symbol and carved marking glowed as bright as anything he had seen in a week. The whole room illuminated as if the sun manifested before him and lowered its intensity. After moments of his eyes adjusting, he looked around, and the small man was floating behind him with a strained expression on his face. He was pained but frozen still.

“Marked one, for the power you seek can only be given with a sacrifice.” the voice said clearer than the last but no less mind-numbing. “A Soul given, or a soul taken, is the first test to begin your journey. Choose your path with your hand placed on the soul stone.”

Soul stone? Did it mean the pedestal? He had not noticed that he had removed his hands and had been covering his ears even though it seemed silly now because the voice was inside his mind and not around him. He was unsure how to proceed. Something had guided him to make this journey for the power shown to him night in and night out. ‘I need to know what this is and what it means.’ He assured himself, ‘I won’t stop no matter what. This is it.’

“Soul given or soul taken,” he repeated these words several times, trying to figure out what they meant. However, whenever he said “given,” an uneasy rush traveled through him that he could not ignore.

“Soul taken!” he shouted, and he was lifted off the ground, hanging, floating like the small man. Panic set in quickly. He fought instantly, trying to move, but no amount of effort changed his position.

“What have I done? What is going on?” he whispered, then swung around to face the small man.

A low, evil laugh reverberated through his mind, though not as loud or painful this time.

“Soul taken in exchange for power. You are worthy of your choice, Marked One. Witness the power you will now wield.” With that, the whole room shook. It was as if the ground would open and swallow them, or the ceiling would fall, crushing him with no escape. Instead, the small man began to move. He was still floating but now moving to the center of the room. He could see fear and panic in the small man’s eyes well up higher as he reached the middle of the room. Now, only two paces away from him, he felt the power beginning to build. A purple hue formed around the small man, and his left arm began to stretch. Further and further away, he finally heard a nauseating pop. He resisted the urge to wretch.

Then, as if the world began to slow, the left side of the small man’s torso ripped away, and he was covered in a warm mist. The small man finally let out a scream of pure agony, blood gurgling from him.

He realized that was the exact scream he heard every time he slept. With the blood still flowing from the man, he burst into a green and purple flame. He wanted to turn away but was held in place by strange magic and forced to watch. There was so much pain in the small man that he could almost make out his soul leaving with his last breath. Then he disappeared, leaving only blood staining the immaculate pedestal. His mage light flicked out, and he was in darkness.

“State your name,” the voice whispered.

He struggled to get free, but he was held firm in place.

“State your name.” The voice was louder and no longer in his mind. It reverberated off the walls, and more pressure came over his body. Panic flooded him as his left arm shot out as if a horse were tied to it. Slowly, the pressure began to tug harder and harder with each heartbeat. He strained to pull back. It was just like what he had witnessed with the small man. The pain built, and finally, he let out a scream.

“SILAS!” he yelled with his arm on the verge of dislocating. He could feel his flesh and muscles stretch to their limit. Then, as soon as he uttered the word, the pulling stopped.

“Silas, whom?”

“I AM SILAS AND HAVE NO NAME! I AM AN OUTCAST! CAST OUT BY THE REMINANCE OF MY FAMILY FOR MY OBSESSION OF FINDING THIS PLACE!” he screamed.

A moment later, his arm was loosened slightly, and though it was still excruciating, he could breathe. “I came seeking your power, though I don’t know why. I need to know why these dreams have pulled me my whole life. What are you?”

“Silas? It’s a fitting name. But what will be your true name?” the voice paused as if contemplating. “Oh, I know,” it laughed. “With my power, you have chosen, and the bond you complete, from here on, you will be known as Silas Dreamwhisper!”

With that, he was released and fell to the ground. The green and purple glow returned and brightened slightly, but it was just enough for him to see. Now that he was aware of everything around him, he noticed a hovering yellow orb sitting directly above the pedestal. It was small, no larger than a coin, but it exuded so much mana that he could almost taste it. He felt it in his soul. After a long moment, he stood up and regarded the orb. Stretching his arm and trying to rub away the pain, he was fixated on it. He slowly moved closer, and when he was an arm's length away, he realized the orb looked like an eye, then suddenly it blinked. Another appeared next to it a moment later. It turned as if connected to an invisible head as if following him. He started to step away but paused instead. All he could think about was what he wished was brighter, and then, in an instant, the green and purple light grew in intensity.

“Did I do that?” he said.

A small guttural voice came from the pair of eyes laughing.

“Stupid human, you have no idea what you have done, do you? All this strength to make the journey, and you still haven't the slightest clue? This will be fun.”

With that, a mouth appeared under the eyes, full of sharp, needle-like teeth that twisted into a crooked smile. Slowly, a form began to take shape. It was knee-high and in the shape of what resembled a small creature. Short, stubby legs with a plump torso and arms that hung to the ground like a primate he had read about in his research. It had large, leathery wings that curled around its back. The creature’s light green skin shimmered as it came fully into view.

“An Imp?” he said. “I’ve read about your kind, but you are not permitted on this plane. Why are you here?” He recalled the symbols on the wall and realized that the ones he copied into his journal were not from another world but from another realm. The demon realm. “Oh, by the gods, what have I done?” he whispered.

“Stupid human,” the creature hopped, flying slowly towards him. Then it stopped, hovering in front of him face to face.

“A soul taken,” it said mockingly, quickly backing away and giving an exaggerated bow. “What you were given cannot be taken, and what you are now cannot be stopped.” Slowly tilting its head.

“What am I now?”

“What you are now is my master, and my master will be powerful. A soul was taken in exchange for the Grimoire and my service, Master Dreamwhisper. With that, you now have the power you seek. Now, take the book and let us be on our way. You have much to learn.” Flashing a hideous smile.

“Where will we go, and how will we get there? My supplies are gone with that man, and it will take another week to return.”

The creature shot forward, interrupting him.

“Stupid human, pick up the tome, and I will teach you what you need to know.”

‘Did this thing roll its eyes at me?’

Silas looked around and noticed a book sitting on the pedestal. How did that get there? The book was a dark red, the color of dried blood. It was bound with an odd form of leather he had not seen before. It was as thick as the width of his hand, though incredibly light for its size. He regarded it for a moment after picking it up.

Then, suddenly, he felt a surge of power course through his body. It was incredible. This was the power he had been searching for. The power from his dreams was now in his hands. It was now his power. He smiled.

“What do I call you?” regarding the imp.

“Stupid human.” laughing, “You call me whatever you want, Master Dreamwhisper; I am yours by bond.”

Silas thought for a second, “What do they call you where you are from?”

A confused look fell upon the Imp’s face. “I was not expecting that,” he laughed. “No one has ever asked me that before. Of course, my true name would melt a mortal mind, but I believe Xavi is the closest to it that you could handle, Master Dreamwhisper.”

“Ok, Xavi, where do we go now?”

“Go? Stupid humans are always rushing about on your gangly legs. Open the Grimoire and close your eyes. Imagine where you want to be and open yourself to the power given.” The smile that Xavi flashed would take some getting used to. Hopefully, it happened fast.

He opened the Grimoire, and when he did, it began to glow with a green fire that gave off no heat. The symbols that covered the inside glowed with a purple hue that gave off intoxicating wisps of power. He closed his eyes and thought of the inn where he first met the small man. As he did, he felt a shift in his body. He stopped and opened his eyes, looking down at himself. His tattered and torn robes were now vibrant and clean. Dark purple cloth with green lining that was tailored to him perfectly. His black chest piece and shoulder guards were still there, but now they had the same symbols of the spell array, and glyphs etched into them. Strange. He also had a short black sword belted to his hip as well.

“That works,” Xavi laughed, admiring the change, whispering, ‘Humans are so predictable.’ “But the stupid Human needs to work on his listening skills to be a powerful Master.”

“And we need to work on your manners, Xavi.”

Then he paused, laughing to himself slightly.

“What’s so funny, stupid human?”

A strange smile moved across his face. He remembered his promise to the small man and whispered, “I just saved a boatload of coins.”

He closed his eyes and opened the book, imagining the inn he had left days ago. He felt the power surge and disappeared with a flash of green fire.