[glow=red,2,300]Before y'all say a word, blame Ches for the stage setup.
It's based off his dream.[/glow]
Chapter Three
“I’m amazed that two forumers could wake up in the middle of the night and attract so little attention,” Rider said, holding her head between her hands. “I wonder if Scar had stopped time or something.”
“Scar isn’t that irresponsible with his powers,” Spot said, chewing half-heartedly on some luckless salmon.
“I wish he would be. It would make things around here a lot easier. We could blame all forum mishaps on him.”
“Why do that when we can blame Crystal?”
“Good point.”
“Hey!” Mindela batted her mother’s tail as she and Rider lay beneath the table in Times Lobby. “Are you two going to help us, or just lie there dumbly?”
“I’ve asked every single forumer who’s here right now,” Rider groaned, rolling over. “I need a break. I didn’t get a very good sleep last night. I had a… strange dream.”
“Oh?’ Spot rolled onto her back and batted at imaginary strings in the air. “Let me try my hand, erm… paw, at dream interpretation.”
“You’ve heard this one before. It’s the same dream I had last year, when we came back from the Daemon Worlds. There were… slight differences.”
“Like what?”
“Like last time… the crows went for me. They pecked out my eyes, but this time… this time, I wasn’t afraid for myself. The birds weren’t looking for me.”
“They were looking for… who?”
“Hu.”
The leopard rolled onto her stomach again, suddenly serious. “You’re worried about her going to the Daemon Worlds and never returning.”
“That’s a whole different reality, a different layer of space. She could be killed out there, and I wouldn’t even know.”
“I doubt she’d worry you like that…” But even as she said it, Spot’s voice quavered with uncertainty.
“It’s okay. It’s my own fault for worrying. I need to learn to trust her.” Rider sighed, pulling up the blanket from the previous night. “I’m going to, if you’ll excuse the pun, cat-nap.”
“We’ll cover for your absence,” Mindy said. “Come on, Spot.”
No sooner had Rider’s head hit the floor than she was dreaming again…
* * *
A stage, musty and abandoned. It was pitch-black; the darkness was like a living thing with a pulse.
Rider was, for some reason, wearing the pink monstrosity and standing on a platform above the stage.
A single spotlight flickered into life, beating down harshly on the stage, a poor excuse for a sun. There were balcony seats looking upon the stage, though it seemed more like a high school auditorium than much else. There were no floor seats. The floor seats had been swallowed up by a black void.
On the main stage, wearing the silver tiara and white-lace dress, Hu stood, staring blankly into the abyss. Slowly, slowly, like a girl possessed, she walked closer and closer to the void. Rider tried to scream, tried to move, but she was paralyzed and completely mute. Every particle in her body was screaming her daughter’s name, but her mind was transfixed by a foreign power.
It came from a balcony above the stage. A silver-white hand, the cause of her suffering…
And the scream that had been so long repressed was unleashed with the force of a train crash. Wordless and wild, undefined, just a staggering note of terror.
* * *
She was jolted awake by the sound of her own scream.
Panting, panting, exhausted and frightened. She checked her clothes. Jeans, check. T-shirt, check. Cape, check. Boots, check. Pink, thank goodness no check.
But while she had gone to sleep on carpet, she awoke on solid wood. She stretched out her hand. A couple of feet to her right, a sheer drop.
People rushed in towards the sound of the screams. Sammy, Hu, Kirby, Thundy, Aeri, all… And there were more screams, more and more as they realized that their Times Lobby was not the same.
It had become an auditorium.
The lights flickered on, one by one and illuminated the scene. Dozens of rows of seats, all facing Rider who lay trembling on the stage. Rider got to her feet and looked up. Sitting in a balcony seat was a woman, masked from view by a black veil.
With an elegant, pale hand, she parted the veil.
She was beautiful beyond comparison, bizarre and ethereal. Yet none could mistake her for an angel. Perhaps it was the way her small, crimson lips reminded one of blood, or perhaps it was her eyes like black holes. Perhaps it was the unnatural, pearly sheen of her skin or the way her skintight snow-glittering dress seemed not to respond when kissed by the wind. Perhaps it was the black leather collar around her neck, with raven feathers dangling from it by fishing line. But most likely, it was the way her long, silver-white hair flowed in an unnaturally smooth manner, rolling like milk over her curves.
Perhaps it was that smile, one sampling sweet victory.
Aerisa glared at the woman with eyes like dragon’s fire. “Who are you? Did you take Scar? Did you?”
“You can call me Charon. The Rose of Charon. As for Scar,” again, that smile… “I have no idea what you are talking about. Perhaps it is all a figment of your imagination.”
“What do you mean by that?” Aerisa cried, clenching her fists. “Are you calling me crazy?”
“You might be. Indeed, how do you know that you are not dreaming?”
“I have pinched myself time and time again. I have wished to wake up. I have wanted it with my entire soul. If this is a dream, then it is a nightmare in a night that will never end.” Tears were forming at the corners of those fire-eyes. “Give me Scar back so I can wake up! The dawn won’t come until we’re together again.”
“You will be reunited with the chronomancer in time,” said the winter-woman. “You shall spend all eternity together in Hell, and no magical pocket watch will be able to undo what is done.”
“I want to see him!” Aeri screamed. “Alive and well! I want to see him now!”
“I’m sorry, but I cannot bring him back from where he is. I can take you to him, though. As you wish.”
She raised one pearly hand and at the back of the auditorium, a black rose blossomed and rippled, becoming darkness-like-mist. It grew, swelled, and consumed the back wall, the back seats, row by row moving upward. Forumers screamed and ran for the exits.
From the void came a huge grey paw, followed by the head of the largest wolf ever to roam the worlds. It was slightly bigger than Shiva. Bright fangs glistened in the harsh spotlights. Two golden eyes drank up these new, unfamiliar surroundings. But they were thirsting for something else, as well. The sight of blood.
The savage gaze of the beast roamed over the crowd, starving.
“The stage is set and the actors assembled,” the witch whispered. “Let the show begin.”