Darkness enveloped him, embracing him as if he were a lost child seeking much needed comfort. It seemed eternal, an everlasting veil of shadows and serenity. In the distance, he saw two beings approach him. Their ethereal figures were consoling. He smiled and reached out for the man in the dark hair and the woman in with the slender ears and long auburn hair.
“Mother…father…I’m home,” he whispered, but his brief reunion was interrupted when his hand was held back. He looked behind him and saw her. Her. The sunlight of his life, the rain in his ocean. She simply shook her strawberry blond head and smiled at him. He turned back to see his mother and father, who were now reaching out. Tugging his arm, he longed to go to them, but once more, he was stopped, this time by her soft, delicate voice in his ear.
Cristianno, wake up.
He slowly turned, her lips brushing against his ear. “What?” She simply smiled at him. It was the same smile that warmed his heart every single time. His parents were starting to be distant.
Cristianno, wake up.
He looked at her one more time and she was now walking away, waving at him. “Wait…”
Wake up…
“Hey, wake up!”
His eyes opened widely and his head shot up, eagerly searching the area he was in. The goblin next to him shook his head and hit him faintly with a dishrag. Cris recognized the tavern. He was in Ratchet. The mug of bourbon was sitting beside him. Cautiously, he shifted his eyes toward the corner opposite his. There was no one there except him and the bartender.
“Where’s…where’s the dark iron dwarf?” he asked faintly. His hand reached for his head, touching his skin and hair.
“A dark iron dwarf? Where!” The goblin ran toward the dark corners of the tavern, drawing his gun and searching desperately. “I’ll kill the fucker!” Cris stared at the goblin and looked down at his hands. There was no dwarf. There was no gun. There was no blast. The goblin returned and placed his gun away. “You can’t hold your alcohol eh?” He laughed as he leaned against Cris’ table.
“What…happened?”
“You walked in, got yourself a drink, sat down and in a matter of seconds, you passed out on the table. “
“Seconds? How long was I passed out?”
“About ten minutes.”
Ten minutes? His heart raced. It was so real. The night terror only lasted ten minutes. The dwarf, the feel of the cold metal against his head, the sound. Her. Everything felt alive, even the pain in his head when he… Her.
He reached for his bag quickly, ripped a piece of parchment from his journal and grabbed a writing tool. Hastily, he wrote a several lines and folded it carefully so that no one could open it except for her. He took the candle’s wax and poured it to seal the note. His mind was starting to cloud as he addressed the note:
Mordrain
Silvermoon City
“Hey, barkeep! Please… please mail this.”
The goblin shuffled toward him and sighed. “Lazy ass.” He took the note and walked to the mailbox outside the tavern. “There. Maybe you should go get some sleep.”
Cris smirked at the word. “I can’t sleep.”
“You sure did for ten minutes. Although, I can’t imagine how comfortable it would be sleeping on a table while you’re trembling and your legs and arms jerking about. I thought you were having some sort of attack. Hell, you even spoke. Something about luck and whatnot.”
The goblin’s words surprised him. Luck. He didn’t feel as lucky as he once did anymore. He looked out the entrance. “It’s still three in the morning?”
“Yup. Well, three something, but yup, still dark out there.” The goblin returned to his work and Cris simply sat, slouched against his chair.
He couldn’t understand why he was having the terrors. They were haunting and terrifying. They were real and impossible to escape. His journey had to continue as he decided to go north, into Alliance territory. Cris looked at his mug of bourbon and pushed it away, bringing his journal up onto the table and turning to a page past the one he tore. He had forgotten already why he cut out the page, but he just shrugged. On a clean section, he began to write.
Never play a game of chance.
 |
| The letter he sent. |
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