Nightmare

[Alric Wilmot]

Date Unknown, sometime between the 63rd and 91st of Fall, 513 AV Alric stood at the top of a tall cliff, peering down into the churning waters below, white froth beating against the shore. The sky was a peculiar shade of red, with the sun perpetually setting. The moon was overhead, already taking its place and telling the sun to hurry and set. Alric looked out to the sun and found it ignoring the moon. It would set only when ready, and nothing the moon said or did could change its mind. Alric then noticed the grass. Though it was green and lush, it crinkled when he walked as though it was dead. What was going on? And why? He turned his back to the cliff, not wanting to accidentally fall over. But when he turned, he found himself face to face with a sight he had never wanted to see again for as long as he lived. It was an older man, balding, and with a long grey beard. His clothes were rags, and Alric could smell the stench of death from him. He looked into Alric's eyes with such sadness and despair, that Alric began to weep. The man opened his mouth, rotten teeth showing in the strange light of both moon and sun. "Why didn't you save me son? Why? I took you in and fed you, sheltered you, loved you? Why did you abandon me in my hour of need?" Alric shook his head. No! No this was not true, it could not be. His father was dead and gone and it was not his fault in the slightest. "I-I did not abandon you, father. You left! Don't you remember? So many Seasons ago, you left and did not tell me you were leaving! I-I prayed for you, I did. I asked the trickster to befuddle your enemies, keep those who would do you harm away!" The old man shook his head, and his roe, tattered as it was, began to grow wet. Alric could not see what was turning it so wet, but he could smell blood in the air. "Ah yes, the trickster. Ionu, our patron god. Tell me son what good is a god that doesn't care about its followers? What good is a god that cares only for its own amusement? Why do you worship the god who caused the downfall of our house? Even now, you must surely realize, the Wilmot are all dead. You are no Wilmot. You are but a bastard of Lady Avian's. You have no noble lineage. You weren't born of love, only lust. I loved you, though. I raised you as my own, but now you abandon my teachings and seek to satisfy everyone's baser urges. All because you try to curry favor with the god who killed me." Alric was aghast. How, how could he say that? "Y-you are not well, Father! Ionu is not to blame! It is the Zith! The vile, disgusting beasts in the shape of men. They cut you open and ate your innards. I could do nothing to save you, I-I am only only..." He was only an illusionist. He realized then that Alvin was right. No! No, his father, not Alvin. Adopted or not, the man was still his father. He was a Wilmot. He was! But, if he had been a follower of Rak'keli, then he could have saved his father. He had chosen the trickster god, as his ancestors had done, and he had paid the same price. Alric shook his head. No, no this was not real. It could not be! "You, you are an imposter! My father was a kind man, a wise man! He would not blame me for this. There was nothing I could do! I was miles away while you were out on some fool's errand!" "Fool's errand?!" Alvin Sylvester Wilmot, or at least the man that looked like him growled and grabbed the robe that now was dripping with a wet, red substance. He pulled it off in one swift motion, revealing his open gaping gut and all that was inside it. His torso was covered in blood, and it continued to pour. Alric looked on in horror at the wound he had seen once before. Only now, it was freshly made. He tried to turn away, but he found it impossible. "I was trying to save our name! We had fallen into poverty! Even worse than that, we had fallen into obscurity! We were no ones doing nothing. I was nothing. I had no wife, no real children. All I had was you, and that ungrateful Wrenmae boy. I was a failure of the highest sort, raising other people's unwanted leftovers! That's all you are Alric, Lady Avian's droppings from some no name servant boy. You aren't the Last Wilmot! I was. And now I'm dead, and all my family with me. If only the Zith had not come. If only they had stayed away. I would have made it to Zeltiva, made it big, found a wife. But now, now the Wilmot will fade..." As Alric looked on, the specter of his father faded as the sun set and the moon seemed to grow. His face twisted with terrible fright at the whole thing, and a deep sadness came over him. His father would never say such things, never! He was the son of Alvin Sylvester Wilmot, regardless of blood! He had to be. He was fighting and preparing and planning all kinds of things to bring the name back to glory in Ravok. If only his father knew. If only. Alric fell to his knees on the dried dead dirt. He had not even noticed that the grass had all died. He felt sick, terribly so, and heaved vomit all over the ground. Why did this all happen to him? Was the world so cruel to everyone? He slammed his fists into the dirt, sending up a cloud of dust. "Why? Why must I suffer? WHY MUST ANYONE SUFFER?!" He hit the cliff-side even harder, but found that he immediately regretted it. The cliff began to shake and tremble, and too late Alric realized that it was falling into the sea. He cried out, but no one heard, or more likely-cared. He fell down and down into the depths below. He panicked and tried to swim to the surface but he had no idea how to swim. So he sank ever deeper into darkness. He closed his eyes, and could only feel the cold of the water, and he knew that this was to be his death. He was not a Wilmot, he was bastard. His god did not love him, and nothing in this world mattered at all. He was as inconsequential as all the others who were nothing but fodder for some god's ego. "Come now, you know me better than that."

[Alric Wilmot]

Alric looked about in the darkness, from one side to another, but it was all the same to him, he could not make out any difference at all. No matter where he turned the origin of the voice could not be found. But then he realized, he could breath! The darkness began to wither, and he saw small specks of light in the distance shimmering blue and yellow and red. He stared on in silent wonder, curious as to what was going on. As he looked upon the dancing lights in the darkness, Alric forgot momentarily of his troubles. He forgot his father's death, Wrenmae's disappearance, Kinneas's death. He forgot the destruction Alvadas had been through twice. All he could think about were how beautiful the lights were. "Is that not what you wanted for others my disciple?" Alric heard the voice as if it was coming from every direction at once, and he could not ascertain where the voice was coming from. But as he looked up and down and left and right, he realized that the lights were shifting. The lights all began to coalesce into one large creature, many times Alric's size. Though he felt panic at first, he could not help but stare at the dazzling light show. When all the lights had come close together, Alric realized that they formed the shape of a woman. She was tall, monstrously so, looming so greatly over Alric that he thought that if there were clouds in this ocean of darkness her head would surely be among them. As he continued his observations, he heard a voice much like the one from before, and although he had no idea how he did it, he floated higher and higher. He passed her navel, teats, and shoulders, and finally came to her face. His breath had been taken yet again, though it was not so perilous as before. Her beauty was beyond anything Alric had ever seen, as lights danced upon her skin which was black as the night. She was as beautiful as the night sky, and infinitely more interesting. Alric then realized who this was. "Ionu..." She smiled. "Yes, my servant, I am. I come to you now to speak my mind." Alric was in awe, but only until he remembered his father's words. "If I had followed after Rak'keli-" "you would still have been miles away at the time of your father's death. Do not blame me, or yourself. The phantom was wrong. You should not take what you find in dreams so seriously." Alric scoffed. "What then do I make of you? Are you but my own imagination, here to chastise me?" Ionu chuckled, "Why of course I am. Do you think yourself so important that I would come to visit you just because I could? Such pride! No, I am but a figment of your imagination. Though, that hardly makes me any less real. But more importantly, I think it prudent that you remember your father as he was. That phantom, I don't think he was your father Alric. He was far too gruff. Do you not remember your father? So sweet and gentle? Perhaps you need some help." Then with a wave of her hand, a large pool came into existence, it floated in the darkness straight-up, as if it were a mirror. Alric gazed within it, wondering what he might see... Alric Wilmot splashed through a pink puddle in the middle of the street with rapturous laughter. He was thoroughly soaked of course, but that hardly bothered him. Nor did it bother his companion. All at once, the same pink puddle exploded in a shower of cold water. Alric shook much of the water off, but it was a futile attempt as the rain continued to pour down at a steady rate. Alric glanced up to the man responsible for his soaking. "No fair Dad! Your bigger than me so of course your going to make a bigger splash! How am I supposed to win if your feet are twice as big as mine?!" A soft chuckling answered the 8 year old lad, as his father put up his hands in an apologizing manner. "Hey now, if that's how you feel than why did you agree in the first place huh? I mean, how else are you going to judge a splashing contest?" Alvin Wilmot beamed at his pouting son through long dripping wet hair. He ignored the strange looks they received. He was quite used to it by now, and so was his son. The Wilmot family name was regarded in only a few places now, hardly the well-respected and lucrative title it used to be. Still, Alvin found he could not care less. He may not have had the wealth that would secure his sons future, but he had the next best thing. He had friends that were willing to help him. Today he was going to Avian Manor to see an old friend of his. And hopefully, she would have the books necessary to continue Alric's education. He had finished the last batch of books much faster than Alvin had expected. "Proportion!" Alvin glanced at his son with eyebrow raised. "What?" "Besides size, what else could you judge a splashing contest! You use proportion! You know, since you are bigger than me, we should judge on according to the proportion of the size between you and the puddle! After all, Dad, that is the only fair way." Alric giggled a bit to himself as he jumped into a purple puddle a few feet away. "And since your twice as big, your puddles are only worth half as much!" Alric called after his father as he scampered about looking for more uniquely colored puddles. "W-wait, I'm not exactly twice as big! H-hey Alric slow down, I won't be able to catch up! Alric! Alric!" And with that, the last blood relative of the famed Amos Wilmot chased after the rambunctious child that he had declared his son. All the while keeping an eye out for the Avian Manor. The pool shifted then, Ionu, or rather, the dream Ionu, dipping a finger into it. It rippled and changed to a new site, and Alric peered inside, his heart already heavy from such personal memories. As Alric approached his adoptive father, the lump in his throat grew bigger and bigger. He did not let it show of course. He did not want Wrenmae to think he had lied. Especially since he had made that ridiculous vow. Why had he done that? It was a spur of the moment, piece of youthful stupidity. And he really wish hadn't said it. If his father said no now... "Hello Father," said Alric as he embraced his father. His father returned the hug in kind. "It's so nice to have you back! You've been gone all day, you know." Alric's Father beamed at the sight of his son. "Ah, Alric! Yes, I'm sorry it took so long. No one in the bizarre wanted the mirrors, so I had to go wandering for buyers. Then, I had to find my way back to the bizarre to find some books. Then after that..." Alric had thought for a second that his Father had forgotten what he was talking about. It did not happen often, but occasionally his father's memory would falter. It happened more and more as he grew older. However, now was not one of those times. Their embrace ended and Alvin Wilmot stared blankly behind Alric, with a very fake smile on his face. "Oh, um. Alric, who is you're little friend here?" Alric grimaced, it was better to broach the subject sooner rather than later. "Well, Father, remember Wrenmae? the boy I told you about?" Alvin Wilmot nodded, his smile turning a little more genuine. "Well, this is him. And he wants to become a Wilmot. We did talk about this remember, Father? You said another son would be welcome? Well he's finally decided to join! So, say hello to Wrenmae Wilmot, my new brother." Alric said all this in a strained voice, trying to make it seem like a declaration to Wrenmae, and a question to his Father. Although, he had really laid it on thick near the end. He hoped his Father wouldn't have any problems with it. For a second, though, it seemed as if his Father was about to say something to him. However, he kept glancing at Wrenmae as he opened his mouth. Finally, he cleared his throat and said, "Well, then, It's an honor to welcome you to the family, Wrenmae. Why don't we all go inside and clean up a bit?" Alric beamed at his father's words, and turned to enter the Manor. As he did so, however, Alvin Wilmot grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him near. "Alric, you and I will have to discuss this later, okay?",Alvin whispered Alric nodded, "Of course, but... Wrenmae can be a Wilmot, right?" "Of course, he's your friend. But, do me a favor. Don't ask any more people to join the family will you? Any more, and people might realize we aren't as we used to be." Alric nodded once more, "I promise, no more. But we best get going. Wrenmae might be getting suspicious." Alvin Wilmot nodded, and led Alric to the Manor, putting on his best smile and trying to be happy about the situation for his son. Alric wiped a tear onto his sleeve. He had thought that he was past all of this. His father, the death... everything. But this was too much. He could not let it remain inside, and so spilled his sadness outward, until his ocean of darkness tasted of salt. He did not know if Ionu was there any longer, or rather, the fake Ionu, but for some reason all he could think of was how it somehow tied all together. His father, his guilt, his god, somehow. He felt a rush of sadness and could not control himself. He felt himself begin to awake, thought the tears remained ever present.