The Dark Somnium - My Hometown Has Been Taken Over by an Ancient God

Episode Date: March 23, 2024

This Creepypasta scary story is from the creepypasta website, written by Santiago Del Mar, make sure to check out the original story and support the author:"My Hometown Has Been Taken Over by an Ancient God" https://www.creepypasta.com/upon-a-crimson-throne/ Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Dreams. It all started with the dream. It wasn't anything ambitious or grand that I yearned for. All I wanted was freedom. But time has a funny way of twisting things. Now all I dream of is the end. Every night and every contemplating moment my thoughts and dreams are haunted by the same twenty-year-old memories and the nightmarish vision of our near future.

of the night, the heavens above my home split apart, and hellfire rained down. Dreams of the damned in their agonizing screaming as their collective hands, fused and deformed eternally, reach for the sky, bleeding for mercy. Dreams of what's to come. The rift in the sky spreading and growing large enough to consume the entire world, and humanity being plunged into an era of unfalienable horror, from which it would never escape. I dreamt of my fate and the role I played. I've dreamt of the crimson throne room, kneeling before the harbinger of our doom, as her bishops placed an ivory crown upon my head, my head, and his rewards for bringing forth her reign. For two decades, these dreams have plagued me. For

twenty years I've awakened, awash in despair, knowing that these were visions of my sinful past and inevitable future. In my youth, a man told me that our lives are nothing but the consequences of our choices. At first, I disregarded it, laughed it off. However, the consequences of the sins I committed have been unraveling themselves before my eyes for over two decades. So, who got the last laugh? The way things played out, no one.

I awoke yesterday to the murky twilight that precedes dawn, bleary-eyed and anxious. Two days before the 20th anniversary of the night, it all went to shit. Over the last few months, within my dreams, they've beckoned, no, demanded for my return. I knew this time I wouldn't escape its call. A week ago, I received a call from the only other person who could understand what I was going through. The true catalyst behind my suffering. We decided it would be best for us to make the journey home. We had no idea what awaited us and what would happen, but,

it would be best to answer the calls lest we incur any unwanted consequences. Knowing that this might be the last time I'd see my family, I slipped into my daughter's room to plant a kiss on her head, without uttering a single word to a still sleeping wife. I stepped outside into a world teetering on the edge of apocalypse. As I started to drive, I thought about what my life had become. The wife, the kid, the white picket fence, and the white-collar desk job. It all seemed so mundane. Of course, any sense of normality was corrupted long ago, but I still attempted to go through the motions

of maintaining the appearance of an everyday Joe, a family man just wanting to provide what's best for his family and maintain a sane, stable household. All just faux traditionalism, feigning worry for the future that awaits our children in the face of significant societal change, all while knowing what truly awaits us is much worse. It's almost funny to me when I see the men and women of my social groups clutch their pearls over the most inconsequential things. I scoffed at it all once, this kind of life, and the ideals that perpetuated it. Drunk on teenage hubris, I once wished it would all just crumble away. I wonder what old me would say if he saw me now.

And why did I care? The drive to Salt Lake City came and went in a dizzying blur, and by midday I'd found the diner we agreed to meet at. He sat, hidden away in a corner. Despite his imposing appearance, he always blended into the background. Approaching him, I was shocked by how little time had doled his features. A myriad of faded tattoos and weak old stubble hinted at his age. But his hard-set eyes still radiated a youthful fervor.

He bore the resemblance of the cruel Emperor Karakala in his eyes and resting scowl. Though he was a year older than me and nearly forty, he looked at the same. 10 years younger. It's been a while, Jack. Not long enough, Don. He let out a chuckle. Don's usual cynical gruff was always broken by his laugh, an almost childish sound that used to come off as sweetly innocent.

Now it felt more condescending than anything. Hungry? We don't really have time to waste. Eager to rush towards death? I doubt we'll be that lucky, I said, getting up. My response drew another laugh from dawn as he followed me up. The next few hours were spent on lonely highways, barreling towards that wretched place. The mere thought of it caused a tempest of unrestrained dread to whip about violently through

the landscape of my mind. But a serene calm tends to prelude the most turbulent of storms. I found mine in the nostalgic dreams that followed my slumber. Peace for the first time in twenty years. In your my age, it's almost a certainty that you'll look back through your entire life and dream of returning to the rosy days of youth back when the world was vast and vibrant. I dreamt of Sunset Valley, my former home, a tiny Ohio town with a population that barely broke 2000, small and close-minded.

Everyone knew everyone, and gossip was rampant. It was stifling for those who longed for more than a life of conformity and condemnatory glare. In Sunset Valley, no one ever moved in or left. The people that lived there had done so for generations, and it was generational reputation that dictated the social hierarchy. Don's family, the Moretties, had been the town's screw-ups for decades, so naturally no one respected them. I was lucky to be born into a hardly notable family.

The only expectations placed on me were to keep my head low and stay out of trouble. My family feared the townspeople and the ire of their judgment. Unfortunately for them, I was too unruly, selfish, and stupid to obey my family's single request. I guess that's why the day I met Dawn was truly the beginning of the end. I was introduced to Don through a mutual friend. Dark hair, dark-eyed, dark mood, tall and well-built. Don was the local pot dealer, and during my teen years, cannabis seemed like a simple enough rebellion. We could have just stayed as dealers and buyers, but there was something magnetic about Don,

a pervasive charisma that made him impossible to ignore. He didn't take shit from anyone, not from other teens, adults, authority figures, or an entire town's dogma. He was willing to carve out his own path, regardless of who disapproved. And though Don might have been a boisterous presence, the man himself was quite reserved, preferring to keep to himself. He didn't like unnecessary interaction. I guess he appealed to a part of me that saw itself as small, hopeless, and I felt the need to get closer to him, befriend him, as if a bit of his lion-hearted nature would rub off

on me, and I wouldn't be so uncertain of my future, of my place in the world. It took time, but eventually I broke through his stoic exterior. I became his closest friend and found that elusive driving force that motivated him so much. A dream that we grew to share. But the pitfalls of youth are that our hearts always crave more. Too greedy for stagnation, our bond grew beyond what was considered acceptable. For as long as I remembered, there was a line drawn in the sand, and in our youthful bravado, we eagerly crossed it. As morning light roused me from my slumber, I became aware of a dull ache deep in my chest. My eyes blurred and I wiped away the tears beginning to form.

For the first time in two decades, my dreams hadn't been plagued by horrors that befell my home, but instead yearning for the blissful, reckless days of my youth. Anger set in when I realized that not even the passage of time had weakened his influence over me. I turned to face him. I was angry that I couldn't bring myself to hate him, that he made me ache for something that had died and been buried decades ago. I was mad because I didn't know if he felt the same or if I was just the last remaining

shard of a long-forgotten past. I tried to tell myself that I wasn't the one at fault. Not entirely at least. Just like an accessory to murder, I stood complacent and watched the perpetrator commit his crime. That is my sin. I can't say I wasn't warned though, so I'll take my share of the blame. If he was aware of my current resentment, he didn't show it.

Don just yawned and asked if we could switch places. I took the wheel as he tried to get comfortable in the passenger seat to rest. I drove for a couple of hours before the pains of hunger forced me to pull into a nearby rest stop. Its run-down diner and shops looked far more appealing than ever. I took only a few steps outside before I felt the sensation of being watched. I spun around to face the nearby woods. However, it was from my periphery that I finally saw movement.

shaky and wholly unnatural. I turned to face it and was met with a sight of a contorted figure peeking out from behind a tree. It noticed my gaze and tried to move closer, its malformed bones splintering and cracking beneath its pale flesh. The way its limbs strained and contorted should have been impossible for any healthy organism on this earth. Anyone else might have brushed it off as a severely injured animal hobbling about, but I had seen them enough in my dreams that I knew to recognize their sporadic movement.

I rushed back to the car and floored it out of the rest stop as I shook Dawn awake. What is it? I don't know, but I saw something, something wrong. Jesus, Dawn, it was all sorts of messed up. Saw what? What did it look like? I think it was one of her scavengers. Don was fully awake now, browsed, furrowed, and concerned.

Well, shit. You've seen them too, then. The flesh constructs. In my dreams. Well, I guess things are getting down to the wire. The hell's that supposed to mean? It means that the things we've seen in our dreams are starting to bleed through into reality.

It means we and the whole world are officially on borrowed time. So if that's it then? Are we just willingly marching towards our deaths? Ours and everyone else's? Christ on, I've got a family to worry about. What about them? I should just turn the car around and try to... You know you can't do that.

You've had the dreams. The ones are being dragged back to... the sunset and into the gates of hell. You know what will happen if we turn back. So what the hell am I supposed to do? Not much you can do. I've been planning something for years now, but I'm not sure how that's going to play out in the end. Once again, what the hell does that mean?

Don only answered in an indecipherable smirk. With that, he settled into silence, and I chose not to press him further. It didn't matter anyway. Soon enough, we'd be in the presence of her unrelenting evil. and our lives would be more than likely forfeited to her. So I chose to sulk and spend the next few hours driving quietly. The sights and sounds blurred together into an amalgamation of empty highways, a noisy car engine and the acrid smell of gasoline.

When it was my turn to switch with Dawn, he suggested pulling over so we could both get some rest. And since we were ahead of our schedule, I agreed. We drove into one of the many seedy motels that dotted the highway, and I threw myself on the undoubtedly filthy pull-out sofa bed. So, what have you been up to these last 20 years, Jack? I considered not answering him, but I was curious to know the same about him. Nothing, nothing of note at least.

I'm just living my life as normally as I can. I saw the edge of his eyebrow twitch, as if he was expecting my answer, but still could not completely hide his disdain. What about you? After sunset, I ran with a gang. We stole art from rich art collectors for other rich art collectors. Ah, yes, Don Moretti and his pension for thuggish behavior. The edges of his mouth creased in a subtle grin at my remark. Well, not only lasted for about a year.

I made decent money, but it wasn't sustainable. Shortly after, I found a different group to run with. Well, more like a small organization. An organization? What kind? Investigative. Kind of like private detectives, but, But they look into the things regarding the occult. Supernatural shit.

I held back a laugh, an action that drew a glare from dawn. It softened and faded from his face as fast as it had formed. Don't tell me that after everything you've seen and experienced, you're still a skeptic. Come on, Jack, I thought you were smarter than that. No, you're right. It just seems kind of ridiculous. So did anything come of it? Yeah, actually.

It wasn't easy, but I think I found something that can point us in the right direction. So, what was it? I don't think it does you any good if I told you everything. I think you should get some rest, and we can discuss it in the morning. What makes you think that you know what's best for me? If you did, I wouldn't be in the shit I'm in right now. I said through critted teeth, Don's face hardened, the rising anger apparent, but the attempt to quell it was just as visible.

You know, Jack, I've put myself through hell, far more literally than I'd like, all to find a way to deal with this. I know you've had it hard these last two decades, but at least give me the chance to fix things. A rising wave of anger jolted through me at his tone. The way he talked down to me like a child, but I did my best to quell it. Whatever, Don, let's just get to bed. There was just one thing that I couldn't let go of, a suspicion that had been brought to the surface the second I reunited with him. Have you killed anyone since we left sunset?

What? You want a fucking list? I didn't. Instead, I was content with letting us fall into the all-too-familiar silence and let our grievances sink to the bottom of some murky pool that neither of us had the energy to acknowledge at the moment. Though a my myriad of fears were flooding through my mind, exhaustion was the most prevalent of burdens.

I could deal with what awaits us in the morning. For now, I'm content with letting the hum of the ceiling fan lull me to sleep and let the ghosts of memories long past haunt my dreams. A kaleidoscope of memories cycled quickly through the dreamscape of my mind, pausing for painfully long on the moments that defined my life and foretold my downfall. I was forced to relive them with unsettling lucidity. I saw the old forsaken town of sunset, that inescapable place daring me to break free from its grasp and how I swore I would, how dawn promised we would, and then I recalled us,

the nights that defined us. I remembered the gusts of cool midnight air dancing through loose clothing and tickling sensitive skin, the faint smell of asphalt and burnt rubber, and the way my arms tense around dawn as he accelerated in his brother's bike to dangerous speeds. We stopped at the city limits. The looming highway beyond was an impassable barrier we swore would one day crumble. Fuck if I know. California or Nevada, it doesn't really matter, as long as it's far away from this shithole.

If it's with you, it's enough." Were his exact words when I asked where we would even go. They were crude, but said with such sincerity that I grew to cherish them. Fast forward to the end of that school year when Don graduated. It was a surprise, given his long list of suspensions that prevented him from walking, but the fact that he had been handed his key to his freedom was enough. I wasn't so fortunate. I was only a junior, another year barring me from the same luxury.

Our summer came and went with little fanfare. We spent it as any adolescent boys would, indulging in generally harmless mischief. By the time the school year started, I had grown impatient and moody. Don noticed this change and spent most days lifting my spirits, and it worked to bring a fleeting sense of ease that all but faded by the next school day. I had found myself getting used to the rhythms of mundane life far sooner than I'd like to admit. Even the moments shared between Don and I had fallen victim to repetition. Every school day ended predictably, with Don picking me up and us heading to the usual spot.

At the edge of town was a heavily wooded area that Don was particularly fond of. Beyond its treeline, you could find yourself completely alone out there, and with isolation came privacy, an undervalued commodity in this time. The infamy surrounding the woods was effective at scaring most people away, Rumors of Satanus and pagan cults performing sacrifices and rituals circulated through the town during the satanic panic that characterized much of the 80s. Rumors that fascinated dawn, and it was under his suggestion that we began exploring the woods. Specifically, a massive cave entrance that dropped into unknown depths. The cave never being fully explored led many other town residents to claim that it was a gateway to hell, and that it was integral to the rituals of the miscreants they feared so much.

Don and I spent a lot of time in those woods searching for the things let loose on the world through the gates of hell. However, that night was spent and tangled on the hood of his starlit car, dreaming of the future, entranced by the freedoms it promised. As Don leaned in closer for a kiss, a voice cut through the air. The hell are you boys doing? It asked and disgust. I jolted up to see that it belonged to Bruce Anderson, the local town hero.

had been closer than anyone to leaving Sunset Valley after receiving a full ride to Ohio University, thanks to his football talents, back when the high school still had a sports program. An injured knee anchored him back to the town, and as he aged, he took it upon himself to be the unofficial town sheriff, policing local hotspots for delinquent behavior. I think because fame and glory were once within his reach that he lusted so fervently after the little power he could hold over the residents of the small town. Then again, all it took was a bit of misused power and mass hysteria to fuel the fires of Salem.

Whatever the case, he liked poking his nose into other people's business, taking moral high grounds and dictating acceptable behavior in language. You know I could tell your parents about this. Does it look like I give a fuck? Come on, man, let's just go. I pleaded with Don. Fuck that. I'm not going to let him get away with the shitty constantly pulls.

Hey, Bruce, you know you're a worse gossip than a bored housewife. Don always has a way of getting under people's skin, and it is evident by Bruce's darkening expression that his last comments stung. To have his manhood challenged by the considerably younger Don infuriated him. He took a threatening step forward as he spoke his next words. Let me ask you a question, boy. If the sky were to split open and the hand of God reached through to smite you and only you, what would you say? Would you still be this smug? Well, I'd say I have it coming and that it's about damn time.

But I'd also say that I wouldn't be the only one that deserves it. I mean, didn't you knock up a 17-year-old? Last I heard she wasn't doing so well. Bruce's face contorted in anger. If Don had stung him before, this time he tore into the man's very core. For all his pride in his unwavering faith, it was juxtaposed with his boastfulness about how red-blooded he was. There was a particular irony with men like him, claiming piety and virility within the same breath.

It's that irony that made it so easy for Don to back Bruce into a corner. Know this boy, our lives are nothing but the consequences of our choices. You'll face yours soon enough. He turned and walked away with a huff, never knowing just how yearly prophetic his threats were. The girl that Don was talking about was Alice Easton. Her recent suicide rocked the community, and in a town that thrived on rumors, it was hard to get cold, hard facts as to what led to her death. The more believable ones claimed that her parents forced her to abort to save face and that she was so ashamed or guilt-ridden that she saw death as her only solace.

Rumors as to who was the father tended to point to Bruce more often than not, as his inappropriate comments towards underage girls were well known but seldom talked about, and whispers of his salacious relationships had plagued him for over a decade at this point. In the past, everyone let it slide as he was the town's gold star resident. However, this time, reverence could not shield him from such severe accusations. The few known facts were that Alice was pregnant, as confirmed by the town doctor, and that her death was ruled a suicide. This was only one of Bruce's many sins, a foolish man layered thick with hypocrisy and unintentional

irony. If only he knew, he too would face his consequences soon enough. I like to think that everyone is bound together by a spool of thread, and all it takes is a little tug to set off a chain of events that makes it all come apart. Causality, or whatever force people want to name it, the effect is always the same. Looking back now, I think this was the tug, and Alice was the thread that would unravel at all. Don drove me home in silent anger.

I hated to see him seethe. My inability to calm him made me feel so powerless. By the time we reached the driveway, I had settled on giving him space, as I was opening the door to leave, his hand shot out and grasped mine. I turned and saw that his face had softened. Don had a rough exterior that seemed near impossible to crack, but very rarely he showed a shy, pensive innocence. For someone like Don to show such vulnerability meant that he truly trusted me.

It was a revelation that left the heart with a tender ache. Hey, just wait for me, okay? Just one more year, and we can drive far away from here. Go wherever the fuck we want. So just wait for me. You know I will. I always will. Sorry.

It's just this place. These people, they piss me off. I'm just worried they'll get to you. They won't. They haven't for 17 years, and they won't now. Don let out a half-chuckle, half-sigh, and perked up as he spoke. Tomorrow night. Let's make it past that highway into the nearest town.

We could spend the rest of the day driving around, seeing new things. Didn't you say that you've always wanted to see the ocean? I don't think we'd have the time. But we will. We will and that's all that matters. I went to bed that night repeating the words in my head like a mantra I desperately wanted to believe. I fell asleep, not knowing how short-lived they would be.

The next day I was unable to focus on any of my classes. I wanted to see dawn, wanted to see more of the world that it eluded me for so long, a world that held the promise of freedom. If I had known it would be the final day before it all went to shit, I wouldn't have spent it lamenting about the tedium of everyday life. I could have spent the day saying goodbye to everyone, making amends, anything else. If I'd gotten the chance, maybe I would have found some closure, and the 20 years that would follow wouldn't have been so guilt-ridden and desperate.

There was something off when Don came to pick me up after school. It was subtle, but I thought I saw the slightest signs of nervous tension in Don's movements. It was rare to see anything unsettle him, let alone make the man anxious, or maybe he was just good at hiding it. Whatever it happened, it must have been enough to pierce through his iron demeanor. The drive was silent and uncomfortable. It wasn't like last night. There was a more profound unease here.

To my surprise, he pulled towards my street and into my driveway. Hey, Don, what's going on? I thought we were- I need to do something real quick. Can you wait for me just a bit longer? Don cut me off. Sure, I said uneasily. He peeled out of the driveway, and I was left with the fact that this was the first time he had lied to me.

I waited for hours, anxiety building with each one that passed by, and by the time night fell, it had shifted to sickly fear. It was nearing 10 p.m. by the time I heard the familiar sound of Don's car engine as he pulled into my driveway. I rushed out to greet him, but saw immediately that something was not only still wrong, but things had also worsened. Don had a crazed look in his eyes. He said nothing when I got in his car and only responded with a grunt when I greeted him and shrugged off my questions.

He started the car and drove towards the woods instead of the highway like I had anticipated. Don finally pulled over as we neared Hell's Gates cave entrance. I fucked up. I fucked up big time. What do you mean? What happened?

My questions and pleas were met with silence. Instead, he led me to the trunk and popped it open. I peered in and nearly doubled over trying to hold back the urge to vomit. Waves of nausea radiated throughout my body as I took a step closer. The inside of his trunk was stained with blood, some of it pooling in the corners. But the thing that stuck with me the most was the glazed look in Bruce's eyes and his partially exposed skull, slick with crimson. With another thread pulled loose, the world around me began to unravel.

I jolted awake with the sound of the motel door being flung open with incredible force. I tried to get up to confront the intruder, but my body was locked in place by a tremendous weight. I was completely paralyzed, unable to even open my eyes. The stench of death wafted into my nose as I felt a being approached the foot of my bed. The sound of contorted limbs snapping and tearing preceded the arrival of the creatures I had encountered earlier. The scent of awful decay accompanying them. Several beings now stood in the room. Their unintelligible whispers rose to shrieks that reverberated throughout my entire body.

I was on the verge of cracking from the sheer sensory overload when a voice, otherworldly in tone, spoke, and deafened all others. I recognized it, having heard it in my dream. She who sits upon a crimson throne awaits. The crushing weights subsided, and I rose to gaze upon the being, levitating several inches off the ground. It wore a blue cloak that obscured the entirety of its body. Behind it stood four flesh constructs. They seemed to be made of mostly human parts, as some of its limbs were recognizably humanoid. However, patches of fur, teeth, eyes, and limbs suggested that local wildlife was assimilated

into their crude forms. The cloaked being nodded and dematerialized, leaving nothing but wisps of navy blue smoke. The flesh constructs collectively let out a garbled yelp, then proceeded to ride their way out of the hotel. The sound of their bones resounding in the late-night air. Don's chuckle broke the bewildered stillness. Well, I guess that's as good a sign as I need to get the fuck going. What the hell was that? One of our bishops, I'm sure.

A bishop? The cloaked things in my dreams were bishops? Yeah, the blue ones named Siliothian, I think. You know their names? How? I'd be more worried about why one showed up here. I don't know, Don, since you know fucking everything and insist on keeping me in the dark, enlighten me.

Why do you think they appeared before us now of all times? Maybe they were eager to greet us or impatient. So what do we do now? There's only one thing we can do, Jack. Don's eyes were somber. Funny thing, I don't think I had ever seen him look so sad. After a few more tense moments, we got up and set out to make the final leg of our journey. The few hours we drove were spent in silence.

Don's face and emotions now indiscernible. I sat in self-resignation. I heard the bishop say it many times in my dreams. We wouldn't leave sunset, not this time. She who sits upon a crimson throne demands our life as tribute to be part of her unholy court. I know now, ever since Don killed Bruce, her invisible hand held onto us by the throat. Her greed ensured that no matter how far we fled, we would always return to her, whether by choice or by force.

The nightly dreams, the stalking creatures, it was all her doing. As the first rays of dawn peaked past the clouds, we finally reached the city limit sign on the seldom traveled highway and turned on to the road that would lead us into town. After we departed from sunset, the road and hillsides were hidden away, many invisible and inaccessible to anyone until now. I knew that it would be waiting for us to cross its borders. What I didn't expect was the vile sight that awaited us upon cresting the hills into sunset. I knew the sky above sunset would still be shattered and torn open, but to see the majority

of the town to be blanketed and pulsating muscle and flesh brought out a visceral, gut-wrenching fear I didn't know was possible. Unfamiliar structures dotted the outskirts of the townscape. New additions constructed entirely out of full. flesh and bone and bound by sinew. I was left feeling speechless by the sight, and even dawn seemed taken aback. No witty retorts to break the tension in horror. This cemented everything.

There was no turning back. This was the end. Not just for us, but for the world. Upon the completion of the capital, she truly claims her throne and throws the world into chaos, and by the looks of it, it wouldn't be long. We are the final pieces. The reason why the bishop acted in such urgency. It's a funny thing, actually.

I should have seen this coming, but I never truly accepted the possibility. How can you, when faced with such a tragedy? Can anyone truly claim to be content walking to their own death? Can anyone claim to be at peace knowing that they would be the catalyst for so much suffering? Closure had evaded me after 20 years of contemplation, and frankly, I don't even know if such a thing exists. I fear for the fate of my daughter, my loved ones, and for all who hear this and know of what is coming. A man once told me that our lives are nothing but the consequences of our choices. I guess it's time to face ours.

I started the car engine and drove towards sunset, towards her beckoning hand, towards our end. It's strange how things can be so set in stone that struggling against them seems less than futile. And yet I and the world remain unchanged and alive. Yesterday I was so sure that all I knew would be erased that I lost the will to finish telling my story, confessing my sins. So now I'll do just that. I'll tell you everything that's happened, because if anything, you deserve to know. On the night of October 18, 2000, after a brief confrontation, Don split Bruce's skull open with a wrench, stuffed the body into his trunk of his eighty-th three Mustang and drove us to the gates of hell. I hate to admit that my shock was short-lived,

and when he asked me to help him dispose of the body, there wasn't even a second of hesitation. I knew it was wrong, that we were committing an unforgivable crime, but I was too selfish to let my dreams slip through my fingers, terrified of losing dawn, my freedom, my perceived future. We threw Bruce into the inky depths of hell, a pair of children tossing a coin into a well, wishing for the world. At the bottom of that well, in the depths of hell, our wish was heard, and the world fell into its hands, to gift to us and to keep for itself. The sound that Bruce's body made when it hit the cave floor made me cringe, a sickening and fleshy crunch. I didn't get to ponder the sound too long. The moment it was birthed, so too was some great expulsion of seismic

force. The ground beneath our feet shifted and split with violence I didn't know was possible. With haste, Don got me into his car and sped away as the magnitude of tremors grew in their intensity. Fuck it. We're leaving right now. This is the perfect cover. Maybe people that Bruce fell in because of Don! I interrupted him and pointed at the sky above. He'd been so preoccupied with the earth tearing itself apart that he didn't notice the sky was doing the same. The skies above splintered and cracked. and tore away from itself, revealing the black void that lay beyond sundered realities.

In that empty and timeless place, a monstrous eye blossomed into existence. Its sheer size dwarfed all of sunset, its sclera was stained at deep scarlet, and its golden iris were marked with unknown and elaborate runic symbols. Its pupil darted around wildly before settling its focus directly on dawn and me. I could feel its malicious intent burning. scarring itself into my very being, a primordial and insatiable hunger. It retreated into the void momentarily, and in that space of time, the earthquake subsided, and the whole town settled into silence.

It didn't last long. Don floored the car, and the screeching of its wheels tore through the night air as we finally escaped from dirt roads onto pavement. Don's panic was made evident by how frantic his driving was, taking sharp turns at incredible speeds and taking us farther and farther away from the town. When the earth began to quake once more, it did so with doubled fervor. The seismic spasms jerked the car with such force it threatened to send us flying off the road. I had a gut feeling that the earth and sky synchronized to some extent, so I looked back up.

What I saw was beyond comprehension, a sight that rendered mind and sanity, leaving only a deep, unyielding trauma. A colossal, grotesque hand was beginning to reach through a rift. For a moment, I thought it would reach down and snatch us off the ground and drag us into the dark dimension it originated from. The fear was so pervasive that I couldn't even let out a scream. The breath caught in my throat. My heart hammered with such speed and force that I feared it would burst through my chest. I let out a harsh sigh of relief when I saw that the hand was not reaching for us, but instead the town's center behind us. That's when the screaming began.

The collective screams of a small town roused from its slumber, only to see that the heavens above had been ripped open, and hell itself was bleeding through. I saw the town shrinking as we drove further away, as the hand grew closer to closing the gap between heaven and earth. We reached the edge of the hills when it finally made landfall, and the shrieks reached a deafening crescendo that echoed throughout the hillside. Yet we did not stop.

driving, nor think of turning back or calling for help. We neared that highway that barred us from escape so many times and fled past it with little thought. The second we crossed it, the screams, tremors, the nightmarish hand, and even the road behind us, it all vanished. Where there was once a turn-off that led you into the hillside onto Sunset Valley, now was grassland. The hillside where sunset should have been was nothing but thick forest, untouched by man for centuries. A whole town, thousands of lives all erased in a few moments, swallowed up by the creeping void, the impermeable darkness, an otherworldly titan and our juvenile greed.

We drove in silence. The longer we sat in that stillness, the larger the gap between us grew. By the time the car was running on fumes, and we were forced to pull into a gas station, I knew that Dawn and I would never be the same. We stayed together for about four months after that, hopping from hotel to hotel, odd job to odd job, and city to city. I never heard anything about Sunset Valley, though it's not like I ever asked. Don and I never talked about it. I tried to bury it, leave it behind, but the dreams never let us forget.

One day, while Don was working, I walked away, caught a bus, and left for California. Despite it all, I somehow found a way to fall into the facade of stability. It all went by so quickly. Every waking moment was a blur. My whole life fast-forwarding before my very eyes. When did I meet Rachel? When did I get married? A white dress, red roses, a child born.

My daughter's first words. When and how? I don't know. It was all simultaneous for me. It was only in my dreams, it was all truly clear, lucid, real. When the realities between waking and slumber bled into each other and became one, that's when the trance I was in was finally dispelled.

What now? How do I move forward when I spent the last 20 years on autopilot, distant and disconnected from reality? Maybe that's the nature of trauma, locked in that perpetual state. When I reunited with Dawn a few days ago, I thought I could never forgive him. In the diner, where a single smirk carved in his handsome face, was enough to leave me in reminiscent awe, it was still far from my mind. On the drive to sunset, through countless miles spent on highways and run down gas stations, and I dreamt of our best moments. The grip of anger never loosened.

It redoubled in frustration at what was lost and what could never be relived. And when we crested the once hidden hills of sunset and gazed upon the corpse of our old husband, home and saw it had become the foundation of a flesh-bound capital. I fell into crushing, soul-rending despair. Now that it's all over, I'm glad I got to see him one last time. I hope that he found some solace in the end. I couldn't have made this journey alone. I wish I could go back to that moment, atop the hills overlooking sunset, looking down at the hell below. I would have let him know that he wouldn't face this alone, that all I wanted was to finally move. past this. Instead, we both descended into that town. No words or even acknowledgement shared

between us. When we reached what was once Main Street, we stood in awe how it had changed. Storefronts and offices were now blanketed in raw meat and pale flesh. The floor itself was one pulsating, organic mass. The car stalled before we reached it, and we were forced to walk on its grotesque surface. I cringed every time I felt blood vessels and an organ squirm and burst under my weight. Don walked ahead with the unsettling confidence. I struggled to keep up and called out, asking him to wait. For what? We're out of time, Jack.

Take a look around. He paused and scouted the area, taking only a brief moment to acknowledge the gathering horde of flesh constructs. The creatures gazed at us, through a myriad of eyes with curiosity but kept their distance. They were only here to witness our arrival. and had no interest in impeding our trek into the crimson throne room. We walked quickly through and headed towards the woods, not wanting to see what our home had been terraformed into.

I got a closer look at the new structures as we passed them and realized what they were. Ribs. It was a massive rib cage, bits of sinew and viscera clinging on to them, encasing the entire town. I didn't care to find out what nefarious purpose they had. We reached the edge of the woods. Here, the forest was mostly free of the flesh that had grown over the rest of sunset. The exception was a single path that scabbed over with diseased tissue.

Its stench was near unbearable, so we decided not to walk on it and instead took an alternate route alongside it, knowing well where it was leading us. We walked in silence, just like so many times before, and it was infuriating. Don would either withdraw into silence or explode into hostility when confronted. with extreme stress, but I wasn't going to let him get away with it this time. Hey, slow down. I'm not going to let you keep getting away with ignoring me, not after- After what?

After what you've done. I fucking knew it. You blame me for all this shit. You of all people. Don said with a rising edge to his voice. Because it was your fault. You're the one that killed Bruce. It was your idea to dump him in the fucking hellhole.

It was all you, all because of what? Don lunged at me. I tried moving out of the wall. away, but his speed was incredible, and I couldn't dodge in time. We both went down and tumbled into a nearby ditch. Don pinned me down and got close to my face, anger, desperation, and anguish above all shown in his eyes. Bruce was the one that came to me. He wanted someone to take the blame for Alice. He demanded that I confessed to being the one that knocked her up to clear his name. And if I didn't, he'd tell everyone about us. I was scared. Of what? Of being a

exposed? I thought you, of all, people wouldn't care about something like that. I thought you, of all people, have the strength to stand up to him. Dawn was taken aback by my words, as his grip loosened and he retreated into that seldom seen timid persona. I broke free from his hold and shoved him away from me. I pushed him back into a corner, trying to create as much distance as possible. Don's stern expression softened into one of sorrow. His voice was calm and melancholic as he spoke. You're right. I didn't and still don't care what others think of me. I wasn't scared about me.

I was afraid of what could and would happen to you. Idiot! You still had one more year bound to that place. The thought of what could happen to you in that year? The thought of you being hurt? The thought of losing you. It terrified me. I stood in complete disbelief, unable to respond,

and yet Don continued to dismantle the anger I once held for him with every word he spoke. You think of me as this remorseless monster, but you're wrong. You think because I refuse to spend years in a guilt-fuelled haze that I don't regret anything? I constantly feel the subtle, self-destructive urges clawing at the corners of my mind. But what good would it do if I buried myself in self-pity and gave it into my worst habits? Numbed it all with booze, sex, and drugs. Or, worse yet, forced myself to fall in line with the rest of society and hope that it fills in the cracks. But again, the only way for me to move forward is to cut away the past and take each step of my own accord.

Don took a hard breath and continued to speak, letting out all the emotions and thoughts and longing that he had been bottling up for 20 years. He let it all out to the only other person that could understand. I'm a selfish fuck. I'll admit it. I wanted it all with no compromise. I wanted you by my side to the very end. I wanted to defy every single person who looked down on me and I wanted to break free from this place.

It's ironic. I guess in the end I still lost you. There was no one left to defy. And I can hardly call this freedom since I ended up back here anyways." Don let out a sigh and visibly constantly. contemplated whether he should speak or drop it. Do you know what my mom tried drilling into my head ever since I was a kid? She tried to raise me to want nothing, take nothing, leave nothing.

To live as if you were never even here. It was the Moretti motto. No one liked us to begin, so why make it worse? If I had listened, maybe none of this would have happened. But living like that isn't living. I refuse to live for anyone but myself. He said that last sentence with the same youthful conviction that had mesmerized me 20 years prior. But we weren't teenagers anymore.

And that same juvenile sincerity wasn't going to pacify me this time. That's not fair. You can't just absolve yourself of any wrongdoing with a few words. I won't drop this. Of course I can't. That was never the plan. I came here intending to put an end to all of this. If you won't believe me, then I'll show you.

How? I don't understand what you're saying. Christ, how many brain cells did you kill these last 20 years? I'm saying I've got a plan. Bullshit, how could you plan for this? I didn't spend all this time just sitting on my ass. I spent years figuring out just what the fuck happened. So enlighten me.

What the fuck happened? Don explained how the nightly dreams that had haunted us both were the most significant clue. It was a hint left behind by otherworldly, fanatical beings whose hubris led them to nonchalantly throwing out the regal title of their ruler, She Who Sits Upon a Crimson Throne. I had heard that title many times. I had my guess as to what it meant, but nothing was ever concrete. That's what Don found, a tangible answer. He searched thoroughly through public documents, college records, but it wasn't until he joined

a shady group interested in the occult that he found a large. lead. It led him to the grimoire of madness, an ancient text outlining the many cults and practices of centuries past. It took years to get hold of a copy, did dirty work for a few private collectors and in that shady organization. A few hours with the book was his payment. He told me all of the insanity that filled every passage, the horror of every page he quickly flipped past. He finally found what he was looking for in a section on a cult infamous for human sacrifice and blood-referred. rituals, the chief deity was the most prominently featured, called Verith, King of the Malkentent Heart and He Who Hates.

Amongst his pantheon, the most esoteric deity mentioned was referred to by only the title, heiress to the Crimson Throne. It has to be her. I looked for that version of her name and found so much more. What they've been calling her now is a recent name change. So? So it all lines up. I can piece together what happened and how she was brought here.

This town's history and its mysteries were hard to find, but not impossible. Files and records always exist somewhere. I had to put a lot of strings and do a lot of favors with bad people to get the dirt on this town. What did you find? In the mid-60s, a small group of hippies gathered in these woods here and formed an interfaith community. Of course, the locals were upset but couldn't do much due to the lack of a police force. So for years, these hippies lived out there and got into some bizarre occultive. shit, and they just kept spiraling into the more fucked up territory.

It was the Manson murders that finally pushed them over the edge. And in the early 70s, they started worshipping a collection of deities they referred to as the Court of Crimson Throne. Chief amongst them was this crimson heiress. They got it into her heads and she was a wish-grander, and with the right offerings, they could wish for her to start some kind of revolution, typical hippie bullshit. But what they were doing was Little Leagues, look a while, wild life and a few pets weren't going to get her attention.

The grimoire states explicitly that only the sacrifice of the most revered person in the vicinity is enough to summon her. The town was smaller then, and no one was genuinely noteworthy. By the time the satanic panic started setting in, the hippies were chased out of town by an angry mob. They found that cave entrance littered with animal bones and formed their conclusions. I stood in stunned silence. It all fit.

Though public opinion about Bruce was starting to wane, he was still the most respected and influential person in town. He was the missing key. Who would have thought two stupid teenagers would, by accident, be the ones to complete apocalyptic rights set into motion decades prior? We couldn't have seen it coming. No one could. The realization began to unravel the anger that it bound me for so long.

So what now? Is there anything we can do? In the grimoire, she stated to be a lesser deity, because for her to fully occupy our world, she has to anchor herself to a physical body and declare herself ruler through some elaborate coronation ritual. Until then, she's only partially connected to our world, linked by something that entered our world the moment the rift was opened. Since humanity hasn't been enslaved yet, I believe she hasn't taken a body, or at least

it's not complete, leaving only one link binding her here. we can find it and destroy it. You really think that would work? It can't be that easy. Nothing ever is. We could search this whole town and still not find shit. It more than likely will be in that cave, in her throne room. It's something foreign to our world.

When we see it, we'll know. Even if we did find it, what then? I don't see how you plan on destroying an artifact like that. Don patted the backpack he was carrying. This baby is loaded with a dozen grenades and a few incendiaries. Oh, and I still have this baby, too. Don waved around a revolver. I recognized it as his father's old Smith and Wesson Model 27,

the steel glinting faintly in the filtered sunlight. I couldn't help but laugh at his plan. Typical Dawn, dedicated years of his life to this cause, and that's the best he could come up with. And if it fails, what then? I do have one final contingency, but I'd rather not resort to using it. It took me years to get hold of the son of the bitch, so I'd rather hold on to it. But if the need arises, well, I'll just leave it in your capable hands.

I mulled over my options and realized I had none. It was far too late to turn back. It was either go down without a fight or die throwing a literal Hail Mary. I owed it to my family, my friends, and myself to at least try. I turned to Don and said, fuck it. Before I could run ahead, Don grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me aside. What's her name? I could have played dumb.

Fane's not knowing who he was talking about. In all honesty, he probably already knew her name. But I owed it to him to hear it from my lips. Rachel. Do you love her? At some point in time, I did, but you know how things are. People drift apart. Yeah, and things...

Are never the same. He pondered for me. moment before he asked his next question. Who are you here for? Her name is Sophie. She turned six a little while ago. She's got my eyes, you know, my eyes and my nose. Do you want to see a picture of her?

Save it for when this is over. And who are you here for? He was quiet for a moment before answering. Myself. I didn't know how to respond. Maybe there was no adequate response. All I could do was give him a reassuring pat on his shoulder as we walked forward towards the gates of hell.

The cave entrance was decorated in flesh blossoms, stained a variety of hues, bruised violets, gangren rosettes, blackened buds, a menagerie of the fantastically fucked up, a grotesque garden in bloom in the courtyard of hell. I can't fucking believe we have to go through Satan's asshole to get to this bitch. Don suddenly quipped. Don, this isn't the time. I said in a tone as serious as I could muster. I struggled to keep a straight face, and Don noticed and let out a half-lap.

Even I had to admit that the orifice that laid before us was hysterically insane. Still, it was impossible to fully settle into hysterics knowing what it led to. The once sheer drop was now sloped and had smooth pink flesh encasing its entirety. It truly resembled an intestine, and so too did its awful odors. Dawn was the first one to step in, visibly criniscally crinied. When he lifted his foot to see the bottom of it covered in viscous clear fluid. He shone his flashlight around and revealed that the cave went on for a considerable length. I stepped in to follow him and the moment we both entered, the groves and flaps of flesh dotting

the walls of the Entrail cave system stirred and opened. Eyes, dozens of them, all shapes and sizes, focused their glares upon us. Some were tiny black dots, while others were as large as my torso. The purses bright with livid incandescence. Pupils were bent and warped into alien shapes, hateful polygonal forms and sharp angles that hinted at the pain they so desperately wanted to inflict. They were everywhere, lining the walls, floors, and ceilings, watching from all angles. I knew they belonged to her, the crimson heiress.

As we walked, the entire tunnel shifted in response, undulations of muscle pushing us forward. wave coming and going in perfect rhythms. The deeper we went, the lighter the tissue became, shifting from moody reds to pale uniform pink. It only took fourteen minutes to reach the entrance to her throne room. The passage widened into a far large chamber. At the end of the section, a massive bulbous appendage was mounted on the wall's center, a small fist-sized opening in the middle. The realization that it was meant to resemble a cervix made me seriously ponder the nature

of this structure and entity. I was the first to enter the throne room. I went fist first into the fleshy mass, the opening dilating to make room for my passage. It was a violent and horrific affair as I struggled my way through the canal, the ever-pervasive slime coating my body. When I finally burst through the other side, I made sure to swing around to face the pseudocervix immediately. I didn't want to meet her alone.

When Don's hand reached through, I took hold of it and pulled out of it and pulled out. When he finally got his bearings, he looked up and let out a barely audible sound, one that conveyed a great shock, a horror so profound that stunned silence was impossible. He gripped my hand with such strength that it ached, and I squeezed back as I steeled myself to turn around. The moment I saw it, the second my mind processed the sight before me, I knew it was my greatest mistake.

No, that doesn't properly describe the emotions I felt in that moment. Maybe no words exist in the human language to properly describe it. All of them seem so derivative. I imagine the syllables and sounds used to form a word to accurately describe the feeling would be long, sharp and painful, and incomprehensibly complex. Sounds that encapsulate burst eardrums, split fingers, eyes gouged out and ground down to mush by one's own hand, sounds of mothers and their children being fed a thousand monolithic mouths, tongues savoring the agony of mortality, of men tearing each other apart, fists, fingers,

and teeth, stripping away flesh down to the bone. It was all insanity-inducing. Insanity wasn't mercy that was granted to me. No, instead my mind forced me to take in the sight. Even my darkest dreams. Nothing came close to this level of depravity. A mass of wriggling flesh made up of hundreds of human bodies, naked and fused into what could have been her throne. I knew them. The people trapped in that mass, and they knew me. I saw the unmistakable expression of recognition cross their collective faces when they saw us. Their voices rose to hysterical, guttural shrieks, having lost the capacity to speak.

It was the best they could do to express the despair they felt. I saw the face of Rosie James, a flower shop owner who was a good friend of my mother. Her face was contorted in anguish. I saw Conrad Firth. He was on his deathbed the night's sunset fell, having been a smoker for 30 years, he developed lung cancer. He fought it every step of the way. If only he had died a few hours earlier. If only he had thrown in the towel the second he was diagnosed.

He looked upon us with unquenchable hatred. At the very base, acting as a trunk of sorts was the contorted body of Bruce, a smooth black sphere buried deep in the center of his chest. His eyes darted back and forth between Don and I. I looked away. I couldn't bear it. They had all been alive, conscious, and in unimaginable torment for the last 20 years. It was a blessing that I didn't see the faces of my parents. If I had, I would have lost my mind then and there, torn out my eyes and bashed my head and rise. That blue cloaked bishop levitated above us, along with three other cloaked figures of varying colors, red, yellow, purple. I guessed it was the rest of her bishops. What role would we be assigned in her court?

I wondered. I didn't get to ponder it long as the blue one spoke again. Stand and face your queen. She has long awaited your arrival for the arrival of the crimson princes. Future heirs to the queen. As if possessed, we turned to face the throne once more. My mind reeled and struggled to fight against looking at the wretched thing once more, but my body refused to comply. A massive form now sat on the throne, mercifully obstructing the majority of it, except for the base containing Bruce. It was her. She possessed a body that was a bastardization of the female form, arms and legs devoid of flesh, revealing muscle and blood vessels,

A massive pelvis consisted only of bone and two prominent flayed breasts. Her head was severely misshapen, resembling the swollen heads of those that perished at sea, only to have their ocean-battered remains wash ashore. From her shoulder blades, thick bundles of nerve fibers connected out and linked her to the base of the throne, directly to the smooth black sphere at the center of Bruce's chest. The most striking features were her eyes. scarlet, burning, marked with familiar Eldridge ruins. It was those very eyes that peered from the fractured realities, through the heavens above

sunset and onto us, those insatiable eyes that hungered for conquest, for dominion, for corruption and vilification of all she set her hatred gaze upon, and so she spoke. Burthed from the womb of cosmic entropy, conceived from stray possible. constellations of the secondborn, he who hates. I arose from amniotic fluid of a billion sundered realities and fed upon the world that lay before me. Uncountable civilizations fell under my ceaseless conquest. I was to feast upon it all, to devour the whole of existence. until the hateful God had me imprisoned within the infinite labyrinthian recess that ran concurrent

to all that is and is not. But you, lost children of creations long forgotten, have given an invitation. No. Demanded that I take my rightful place upon a throne. stain crimson with the blood of all that has and will and you lost children have been rewarded a place amongst my court as princess heirs to the sanguine empires deification within my pantheon and your innermost mortal desires fulfill So look upon this palace of Vicerra and know that it is my fetid womb in the genesis of a new era. Take pride in knowing that you will be part of its legacy.

Her voice should have been one that could shatter mind and poisoned flesh. It should have been the voice of a dictator hardened to steal or of a being that could not and should not be comprehended. Instead, it was tender, almost comforting. That was the terrifying part. With that voice, she had commanded genocides on an unprecedented scale. This was the source of so much torment in our lives, yet anger could not make the fear I felt recede. I was reduced to, as she said, a small child, lost and weary. I wanted to run away, bury myself in that misery that hung over my life for so long and sink into apathy. But I owed it to everyone that suffered because of me to at least attempt redemption.

Though nearly paralytic fear coursed throughout my body, I forced myself to speak my next words. They came out as a pathetic whimper, but they were spoken nonetheless. And that showed with extreme effort I could challenge her. Why did you do all this to my friends? We didn't wish for this. So why subject them to something so cruel? As soon as I finished speaking, a dire thought came to mind. Did I wish for this?

Deep on a subconscious level, did I hate the people of Sunset enough to long for their punishment? That couldn't be it. I knew what I desired most, so who? For a moment, a jolt of anger arose from within me. Did Don wish for this? Yours were not the only ones granted. A third prince.

The catalyst for my arrival too, had his wishes granted. See, this lost child feared that which he could not comprehend, that which strayed from the standards set by his forefathers, so he dedicated himself to enforcing the order that defined his existence. For it to have challenged and defiled would be to have this very being torn asunder. So I made him the center of this plane's existence, the pillar that binds our planes, and the future overseer of this corner of reality. What kind of fuck the monkey paw shit is that? And what about us?

You can't call the last 20 years a wish granted. His voice was enough to break away from the panic state I was in. I like to think that maybe, just maybe, my voice was the one to stir him from his. She twisted her lips into a smile, a sickly grin that spoke of malevolence that permeated her every thought. Her eyes focused on me for a mere moment before her hand lunged out at dizzying speeds and took hold of me. I was flung violently into the air and the world spun around me.

I felt my limbs flail about before something caught me. The sudden stop caused my head to whiplash and the stinging in my eyes made it apparent that I had suffered a concussion. It took a moment to gain my bearings. And when I did, I saw that a giant flesh tendril had formed from the ceiling and grabbed me before I collided into it. I could hear Don's panicked voice pleading with the Crimson heiress. Wait, stop! Why didn't you? To get a rise out of you.

Just let him go. You can take me instead. Lost children shouldn't bargain with their mothers. Your demands have already been met. And yet you beg for more unruly children. Child, I should punish you, unruly child. You know not the meaning of agony. Unruly, child. How should you be disciplined?

I promise never to challenge or disobey you. I am grateful for what I've been given, and I'll ask no more. The crimson heiress's smile softened, and the tendril coiled around me loosened enough for me to fall through its grips and be caught by hers. She then bent down and placed me back down on the soft, fleshy floor. Dawn was at my side, helping me up. He mouthed the silent apology as I leaned against his shoulder. You are to refer to me as the mother of lost dreamers. Dale Teff, that is the name I have chosen to take upon my coronation.

She gestured with her hand, and the whole throne room blossomed into complex and intricate regal displays. columns, halls, pews, tables, and pseudo-floral centerpieces formed instantaneously, carved of flesh, coagulated blood, bruises, scabs, and calluses accentuated elaborate designs branded into the flesh. In a nightmarish way, it was almost beautiful. Whips of colorful smoke, navy blue, gold, indigo, and scarlet all rolled in and materialized as the four bishops. They carried a massive circlet, jagged antlers spilling out from all around it. At its points, the calcified remains of some creatures were impaled. Their faces locked into an eternal scream.

Most of them were unrecognizable as beings from this realm, except for the human one at its center. Trophies from previously conquered worlds. The bishops floated towards Deltef, intent on placing the crown upon her head. I knew when that happened, it would be the first. end of us all. I took hold of Don's hand and squeezed it, a gesture he returned. We knew it was now or never. Don slipped a small object into my pocket, took off his backpack, pulled out a single pin,

and flung it towards the base of the Crimson Throne. He let out a casual, almost comedic hay as the pack soared towards Bruce. Delteff turned her head at the sound, her face contorted into anger at the sight. The way she was positioned made it impossible to intercept. the explosives. Or so I thought, she let out an incredibly fast and powerful kick and caught the pack with the edge of her heel. It must have been her intention to fling the bag away from the throne, but as soon as she made contact with it, it detonated. The explosion sent a deafening shockwave through the throne room, followed by a series of smaller staccato-like

explosions and bright flashes. When they ceased, I could see that most of her right foot was obliterated and the incendiaries had caused her calf to catch on fire. She turned to face us, leaning her weight on her remaining foot, flames spreading to her thigh and pelvis. Her face was twisted into an expression of pure rage, fury so profound that it could never be truly expressed by human faces. Don gave me a quick knowing glance, his eyes communicating an unshattered resolve, his eyes telling me, it's up to you now. He turned to run, and maybe he could have outrun the now seriously impeded ERIS, but before

he could even take the first step, three tentacles burst from the floor and lashed out at dawn. He dodged all three of them with ease rolling out of their grasp. As soon as he landed on his feet, three more tendrils burst underfoot. Don must have spent the last two decades honing his reflexes, because his reaction time was inhuman, dodging and weaving out of the way at incredible speeds. He dove out of their reach and used his hand to pivot mid-dive out of the way of a new tendril that had formed. However, he was beginning to be overwhelmed by sheer numbers. I was shocked by how long it took for one of them to catch him at an angle he couldn't recover from and pin him down. Deltef, having extinguished the fire during the confrontation, got down

on her three remaining limbs and charged forward. As she passed me, she struck me with the soul of her foot, sending me flying backwards. I landed near the base of the three. The wind knocked out of me. I let out long, painful heaves and struggled to take in air. My entire body ached, but most of all, my diaphragm burned with intense pain every time I breathed. The kick must have cracked a few ribs. Six consecutive shots rang out, followed by six meaty impacts. The sound brought me to clarity, and I forced myself through the pain to stand.

My only thoughts were dawn. I had to help him. I saw that Deltef now held him in her hand, and his gun lay at her feet. Her torso was riddled with holes, but it seems like she didn't even notice. A stream of incomprehensible obscenities spewing from her lips. The floor in front of her split open, causing Don's revolver to fall into the gaping crevice. I saw hundreds of tendrils form alongside the wall's chasm, all of them wriggling and flailing. At the end of each, a different instrument of torture was attached, prongs, drills made of bone.

fine needles, mouths with jagged teeth, cleavers, and uncountable others. She held dawn over the pit, lowering him slowly into it. The longest of the tendrils, the longest of the tendrils, one with a bone sickle, lashed out and slashed at the base of his ankle and made a shallow cut that drew blood. The tendrils then lowered, and a few drops of blood fell into the crevice, driving the rest of the twisting mass into an even greater fervor. Panic and adrenaline surged through me, masking the pain with the need to act, the need to save Dawn.

A sudden recollection jolted me into action, and I dug into my pocket and pulled out a small dagger. Don's contingency plan. It was sheath and a scabbard made from a material I had never seen before. It felt almost gritty, its grainy texture comparable to sandpaper. It was pure black, void black, so dark that it visibly darkened the area around it. pulling in and dimming light around it in a perfect radius of about six inches. I unsheathed it, and the dagger itself was even more mysterious and otherworldly.

It was made of a metallic material, silver in color, and seemed to be incredibly reflective. A halo made of hewned light shone off its surface. It was tiny, only two inches from its pommel to hip, but incredibly elaborate and ceremonial engravings covered its entirety. The strangest part was that it seemingly ionized the very air around it, merely holding it unsheathed, sent waves of volatile energy throughout my body. This couldn't have been created in our reality. It was far too alien. But if anything could shatter the seal that bound dealt heft to this reality, it would be this.

I knew where it was, she said it herself, the pillar that chained our worlds together. I sprinted to the very base of the throne, searing pain once more pulsing through my body and dropped down to my knees at the bottom of the throne. I averted looking at Bruce's face, looking at anybody in that writhing mass, even as the screams and moans intensified. I tried raising the blade, but found my body refusing to comply. A cold chill ran up my spine at that moment. That paralytic fear returned. I froze in place, terrified thoughts forcing themselves into my mind. What if it didn't work? What torment would Deltef subject me to for my betrayal? Should I just do nothing and give in?

Maybe my family would be spared, maybe I would be rewarded. I felt shame for even pondering these things. I had spent so much of my life locked in passive fear and bouts of apathy, but I also had fought against the vices that would have plagued so many in my state. I hadn't resorted to substance abuse, alcoholism, or sex as a coping mechanism, and my mind was still intact. Yes, I had suffered long periods of dissociation. But in my dreams, my mind was also hardened.

That was evident by the fact that I was still sane. How many others would have had their minds warped, twisted, and broken apart from what I've seen here, from what I've been through? That was my hidden strength. I could resist that paralytic insanity-inducing fear. My whole life I had fought to resist and break free from the forces that sought to control me. This wasn't any different. This was the chance to finally cast off the chains that had bound me into that pathetic state

for so long. Fear, trauma, regret, all of it. I refused to fall into the trance that they held me under for so long. I know now that everything that has ever happened was building to this very moment. This was my life's crescendo. Dispelling hesitation, I drew the blade, held onto it so tightly my hand stung. I positioned myself so my face was level with the small black sphere in the center of Bruce's chest. It looked as intangible and imperceivable as a black hole. I raised the blade,

and with the greatest resolve I ever felt, I tried to drive it into the center of the sphere. But like magnets of the same charge, the objects repelled each other, as if the existence of these two contradicted each other to such a degree that some innate universal force drove them apart. As soon as the blade was deflected away, Deltef twisted her head to face me and let out a world-shattering roar. The bishops that had been on standby, still holding the massive crown, dematerialized into smoke, letting the crown fall to the floor and rushed towards me. I recentered the blade and tried once again, plunging into the seal, but like my previous

attempt, I was met with the torrential current of energy repelling the blade away, but I held firm. With both arms keeping the blade in place, I pushed forward inch by inch, slicing through that universal force that fought with all its might to keep the two separate. The air around me was charged with ionized particles, and I felt the explosive energy searing throughout my veins, inflicting the greatest agony I had ever experienced. Still, with my muscles strained to their limits, I pushed forward until the blade was less than a millimeter from the sphere.

At that moment, a giant flesh tendril formed behind me, the edge calcifying into a massive bone spear, the bishops materializing above me simultaneously, each brandishing a bronze pike. As all five of the pointed weapons were thrust down at me, I used the last of my strength to throw the entirety of my body and its weight into one final push. I was mere nanoseconds away from being torn apart when the blade finally made contact with the seal and both shattered instantaneously. The emanation of energy that was released must have shaken the very foundations of our reality. The throne immediately calcified into ivory bone and the calcification rapidly spread out through the throne room. Petrifying the bishops.

bishops and the tendrils in place, locking them into an eternal state of assault. Another scream writhed out from Deltef, and I turned to see that she had dropped on onto the still fleshy floor, narrowly avoiding the tendril-filled crevice. The tendrils themselves had ceased their violent flailing and instead spasmed meekly as they fell to the rabid calcification. I could see that Deltef's body itself was beginning to turn to bone, but much more slowly. She was fighting at every step of the way. Her foot and foot stump had already fused to the ground, and the calcification was spreading

up her thighs. She was no longer mobile, and instead had drawn her hands to her face in clear distress. Though I was at the point of complete fatigue and my body ached with the worst pain of my life, I ran, ran faster than I ever had run to Don's side to help him up. We did it! We really did it! I said, raspy and breathless. He let out a small,

pained but sincere laugh. I could feel the tears beginning to form, but I pushed them back and instead rested some of my weight on his shoulder. I turned to face the throne. The faces of the people I knew and loved still fused to each other. They looked like marble bus and their expressions showing that in their final moments of life, they felt relief. I was glad that I was the one to give them solace in the end. I really thought that would be the end of it, as if it would be that easy. I was snapped back to reality by the hoarse, ear-splitting shriek of Deltef. She hadn't calcified yet. The petrification had progressed up to her pelvis and was starting to spread to the base of her spine. She delivered a series of powerful blows to her spine

in an attempt to sever— I won't allow it! I spent an eternity locked away in that boundless place. To escape its hold only to be banished by motherless children! It was your hearts that called out to me. It was the dreams of the lost, the castaways, the Bohemians. I answered your call. Is this not what you yearned for? I will not leave this place. I will not return to that prison to be ground under my father's heel.

My dream of escape will not end here. Delta finally succeeded in detaching herself from her lower body and now stood on both her hands. Don and I gave each other a nod and turned. to sprint out of the cave, we set off towards the pseudo-servix that acted as an entrance. It was ivory-white and fully dilated, the opening now wide enough for us to dive through, dawn going first, spearing through it in an almost graceful, dolphin-esque manner. I was right behind, clumsily rolling through, but I was on my feet in an instant, and both of us set off running towards the cave entrance. I had hoped the bone cervix would at least slow

down Deltef, but she tore through it like a tissue paper and was right behind us. My body had reached its breaking point a while ago, and now it was starting to fail on me. Pain, exhaustion, and injury was beginning to still my pace. Don slowed for a mere moment to let me catch up with him. His arm reached out and grabbed mine. It was what I needed to push myself to move forward. If only for a little while, DELThe had closed the gap considerably and was now at our heels. If we could at least make it into the woods, we could split up, and one of us could survive. I didn't want it to come to that.

I wanted both of us to escape from that place, alive and intact. I could finally see the cave entrance up ahead, pale moonlight shining down and reflecting off the ivory bone that the entire cave system had converted to. The eyes were still there, now calcified. They were oddly beautiful in the light. Under any other context, I would have stopped to admire their elegance. We ran past them towards the ever-expanding ring of moonlight.

Deltaf almost directly behind us. As we came upon the exit, we leapt out with the last vestige of our strength in hopes of creating as much distance as possible. Deltef had the same idea. Using her arms, she lunged out of the cave and landed on the ground in front of us, the impact displacing the dirt and grass. I collapsed onto the ground, completely fatigued and no longer able to move. Don was at my side, trying to get me on his back to no avail.

I yelled at him to run, the only one of us had to die here, but he refused to budge. Her massive hand was upon us, her fingers curled around our bodies, and I closed my eyes, hoping that death would come quickly. I stayed in that still darkness for each second, stretching out for an eternity. My heart hammered in my chest, each beat pulsating a dull ache throughout my body. My lungs and ribs burned with scorching agony every time I took a breath. At that moment, I was ready for death to still my pain. It never came.

I slowly opened my eyes to see the fingers and palms of Deltef's hands had turned white. Pale bone reflecting the light of the moon sat on the backdrop of a clear cloudless sky. The stars that once raked across its facets finally gone. The petrification spread quickly up Deltef's arms into her chest, thin veins of bones spread up her neck and into her face and formed small patches. A sinister smile spread across her face as she spoke. I see now. You are no mere lost children, nor are you lost dreamers.

You knew from the very beginning what your heart yearned for. What a grandiose dream it was. All dreams must come to an end, and so too must its inhabitants. I enjoyed my fleeting time here, but if I must return to my reality, I will do so with poise. However, know that every single longing thought and fleeting dream makes its way to me, as long as there are lost dreamers pining for what lies beyond their reach. there will always be a door from which I can enter. Farewell, little dreamers, heirs to my throne.

Princess of endless dreamscapes, I return. And with that, she completely solidified. Her body stood as a monument to the havoc she reeked in so little time. She could have plunged the world into her dark dream of an empire the night she arrived here. She instead let us live out 20 years of her twisted version of freedom, 20 years of her haunting our dreams. I guess, in the end, it was her hubris that led to her downfall. I was just glad that this time it was truly over.

Dawn and I just lay there on the forest floor, looking past the tree canopy at the sea of brilliant stars that stretched on infinitely. They had never looked so beautiful in my life, so bright, so vivid. And so we lay there in comfortable silence, letting our minds and bodies rest. I awoke to the first rays of dawn, the light morning mist forming little dew droplets on my eyelids. I sat up to see that dawn had his back to me. He was facing towards sunset. Still unbearably sore, I walked towards him, and he turned to face me and gestured toward the town ahead. I was left in awe at the sight that lay before.

All of sunset had been calcified. What remained was the ivory capital of an empire that never was. It was like stumbling upon the ruins of a civilization long lost and entirely foreign. I know that the sight should have filled my heart with melancholy, but instead a profound relief put me at ease. I knew it wasn't a fleeting solace that would dull and fade with time. Now that the ghosts that have long haunted Sunset and I have finally been laid to rest, I have nothing left to grieve for.

I took a picture of Sophie out of my wallet and placed it in Dawn's hand. He studied it for a moment and let out a hearty laugh. Damn. She really is the spitting image of you. Maybe you can meet her sometime. Maybe. We'll meet again, won't we? Of course we will.

It's the way things are. We're bound no matter how you look at it. First, I have some stuff to take care of. Old obligations. I'm not sure how long it'll take, but when I'm not sure how long it'll take, but when I'm through, I'll stop by to check up on you. Me, the Mrs. and selfie. Just wait for me, okay?

You know I will. I always do. Don insisted that I leave him there, that I make the journey home alone, that I needed the time to mull over all that has happened. I believe that it was because his journey wasn't over yet. But he didn't have a home to return to. It was a journey he'd have to finish without me. But I'm glad I was there for a small part of it, but he was here to help me reach the end of mine. I don't know where I'll go from here, but I know that the paths I've walked and the dreams I've chased all led me to this end.

I can only wonder what awaits me in my dreams.