Chapter 147: Dream Walking

Eiravelle placed salt in a circle around herself and lit the candles, her hands steady despite the fear coiling in her chest.

She arranged the four candles around her like a compass, one for each direction, and she took a deep breath. Although she had no powers, no magic of her own to draw upon, she could cast normal spells from the sorceress’s book of white witchcraft she had studied back at the academy.

She had been a top student, had memorized the spells without problems, had practiced them until they were as natural as breathing. She had never expected to use them like this, never expected to need them to save a life, but she was grateful now for every hour she had spent poring over those ancient texts. The salt circle gleamed faintly in the candlelight, a thin white line that marked the boundary between the waking world and whatever lay beyond.

She closed her eyes and began to murmur the words, the ancient syllables rolling off her tongue with practiced ease. The candles flickered, the salt circle glowed faintly, and the air in the infirmary grew heavy and still. She could feel the spell taking hold, could feel the world around her beginning to blur and soften at the edges. There was a moment of silence, a moment of perfect quiet, and then Eiravelle heard the howling wind.

She opened her eyes and saw she was in a dark forest. The moon was high overhead, full and pale, and she was holding a lantern that cast a small circle of light in the oppressive darkness. The trees around her were tall and twisted, their branches reaching toward the sky like grasping fingers, and the forest was incredibly quiet, the kind of quiet that felt wrong, that felt like the calm before a storm. The howling wind made it sound more like a haunted place, a place where the dead walked and the living were not welcome.

Eiravelle started to walk, her boots crunching softly on the fallen leaves. The lantern swung gently in her hand, its light barely pushing back the shadows that crowded in from all sides. She could feel the weight of the forest pressing down on her, could feel the eyes of unseen things watching her from the darkness. But she kept walking, because Ruthina was here somewhere, and she had promised to bring her back.

"Ruthina?" She called out, but there was no response. The forest swallowed her voice, muffled it, as though it did not want her words to travel.

"Ruthina, where are you?" Eiravelle called out again, but still, no response. She kept walking, her lantern casting dancing shadows on the trees, her heart beating faster with each step. The path ahead was unclear, overgrown with thorny bushes and tangled roots, and she had to push her way through, the branches scratching at her arms and face. "Ruth—"

She was about to call out again when a massive, grotesque monster appeared in front of her. It seemed to materialize from the darkness itself, its body a twisted mass of limbs and teeth and eyes that had no business existing.

Its mouth was watering, drool dripping from its jaws and sizzling where it hit the ground, and its teeth were sharp and massive, row after row of them, far too many for any natural creature. It was taller than any man, wider than any beast she had ever seen, and it smelled of rot and decay and something older, something that made her stomach turn.

Eiravelle’s eyes widened in shock and fear, and she started to shake. The lantern trembled in her hand, the light flickering wildly. "What the..." She wasn’t able to finish the sentence. The monster lunged, its massive hand closing around her throat, and she was lifted off the ground, her feet dangling, her breath cut off.

"Ngh! Argh!" She struggled, clawing at the monster’s grip, but it was like trying to move a mountain. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but gasp for air that would not come. The world was growing dark at the edges, and she could feel herself slipping away, could feel the darkness reaching up to claim her.

"R-Ruth... Ruthina," she called out despite struggling to breathe, her voice a strangled whisper. "P-Please!"

She was going to beg, was going to plead for her life, when someone struck the monster down. The creature exploded in a shower of black ichor and shattered bone, and its remains splattered across Ruthina’s and Eiravelle’s faces and clothes. Eiravelle collapsed on the ground and coughed, gasping for breath as she tried to fill her burning lungs.

"Ru-Ruth..." she managed, her voice hoarse.

"Sister Eivy, what are you doing here?!" Ruthina rushed to her side, her hands hovering over Eiravelle as though she wanted to help but was afraid to touch her. Ruthina looked different here, in this dark forest of her own mind.

She was wearing a simple white gown, and her blonde hair was loose around her shoulders, but there was something in her eyes that Eiravelle had never seen before—something ancient and weary, something that had seen too much and felt too much and was tired of it all. She looked like a woman who had been fighting for so long that she had forgotten what peace felt like.

"R-Ruth... Haah." Eiravelle calmed herself first, taking slow, steady breaths until the world stopped spinning. She looked at Ruthina, at the omega who had been so kind to her, who had never asked for anything but peace. "I... I came here to save you. Let’s go back, Ruthina. It’s okay, I’m here."

Ruthina frowned, and there was something complicated in her expression, something that looked almost like guilt. "Sister Eivy, I’m... I’m okay here now," she said, and though there was reluctance in her voice, she seemed like she was choosing to stay. She looked around at the dark forest, at the twisted trees and the howling wind, and there was a strange sort of acceptance in her eyes, as though she had made her peace with this place.

Eiravelle shook her head and held Ruthina’s hand, her grip firm and desperate. "No! Ruthina, listen to me, we’re waiting for you out there. Arielle is waiting for you. She hasn’t left your side. She’s been holding your hand for hours, refusing to sleep, refusing to eat. She needs you to come back."

Ruthina’s eyes flickered at the mention of Arielle’s name, but she shook her head. "I... I can not keep becoming a burden, sister Eiravelle." As she spoke, the moon suddenly became red, and the sky followed, bleeding from pale silver to a deep, angry crimson. The forest around them seemed to shudder, and the howling wind grew louder, more desperate.

"You have to go! This is what’s going on inside my head, and it’s unstoppable!" Ruthina started crying, and Eiravelle saw the fear in her face, the terror that she had been trying to hide. The monsters were coming, Eiravelle realized. They were always coming, always waiting in the shadows, and Ruthina had been fighting them alone for far too long.

Eiravelle gently cupped her face and wiped her tears away, her thumbs brushing over Ruthina’s cheeks. "Ruth, tell me the truth... Do you want to stay here?" Eiravelle asked, her voice soft but steady.

Ruthina shook her head, and the motion was small and broken. "I just... Don’t have a choice... My saint is not here... And you’re not my saint." She said, and there was a profound sadness in her as she spoke those words, a sadness that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside her, somewhere that even she could not reach.

Eiravelle felt her heart being crushed by a thousand needles, and she didn’t know what was going on. All she knew was that she felt bad for Ruthina, felt a pain that was not her own but that she carried anyway. She thought of the golden rabbit, of the gentle omega who had been through so much, who had been hurt again and again, and she understood something in that moment.

Ruthina did not believe she deserved to be saved. She did not believe she was worth the effort. She had been told, again and again, that she was nothing, that she was a burden, that she was only valuable for what she could give to others. And she had believed it.

"Sister Eivy, you have to go. You have to leave, please! This place is dangerous." Ruthina begged as she cried, her hands pushing at Eiravelle’s chest, trying to make her leave, trying to save her even as she gave up on saving herself.

But Eiravelle had frozen up. She was thinking something, but she couldn’t voice it out. She was thinking of the church, of the priests who had hurt Ruthina, of the slave masters in the demon realm who had broken her. She was thinking of how unfair it was, how cruel, how utterly wrong. And she was thinking of what she could do, what she should do, what she needed to do to make Ruthina see that she was worth saving.

And then the monsters emerged from the shadows.

They came from everywhere, from between the trees and from behind the rocks and from the darkness itself. There were dozens of them, maybe more, all of them twisted and grotesque, all of them hungry.

Their eyes glowed in the red light, and their teeth gleamed, and they moved with a predatory grace that was almost beautiful in its horror. Ruthina glanced at Eiravelle for the last time, her eyes full of sorrow and determination, and she rushed to meet the monsters, her arms spread wide as though she could shield Eiravelle with her own body.

The monsters pinned Ruthina and ravaged her, their claws tearing at her gown, their teeth sinking into her flesh. Ruthina screamed, a sound of pure agony that echoed through the forest and seemed to shake the very sky. "Sister Eivy! Please go!" She begged once more, her voice breaking.

Eiravelle’s eyes widened again from so much fear. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but watch as the monsters tore at Ruthina, as the omega who had been so kind to her was destroyed before her eyes. She could hear the fast beating of her heart, could feel it pounding against her ribs like a caged animal, and she thought she might die from the terror of it all.

"No... Ruth..." She whispered, and Ruthina’s cries became louder.

"Ahhhh! Nooooo! Please! No more!" Ruthina screamed as she begged, her voice raw and broken.

Some of the monsters saw Eiravelle and slowly walked toward her, their movements predatory and deliberate. They could smell her fear, could taste it in the air, and they wanted more. They wanted to destroy her, to tear her apart, to consume her as they were consuming Ruthina.

Eiravelle closed her eyes and sighed, and in that moment, she thought of Qazaethel, of her wife waiting for her in the infirmary, of the promise she had made to come back. She thought of Qazaevelle, of her daughter, of the life she wanted to give her. She thought of Arielle, of the sister who had always protected her. And she thought of Ruthina, of the golden rabbit who deserved so much more than this.

"Supreme Gods... Help me," she prayed, and the words were not a demand but a plea, a desperate, heartfelt plea from someone who had never been sure if the gods were listening but who had no one else to turn to.

When the predator saw the right time to attack, it lunged at her, its massive jaws open wide, its teeth gleaming in the red moonlight. But the moment it landed on Eiravelle, a barrier seemed to dissolve the monster into golden air. The monster disintegrated, its body breaking apart into a thousand motes of light, and the light swirled around Eiravelle like a protective cloak.

And Eiravelle opened her eyes... It was a pair of gold, shining and glowing with light.