Published in Bound by blood - Part 4
Published in Bound by blood - Part 4
Published in Bound by blood - Part 4
Image credit by Greg Rosenke
Image credit by Greg Rosenke
Image credit by Greg Rosenke
Resigner Luth
Resigner Luth
Resigner Luth
Resigner Luth is a fantasy writer. Believe in magic, raise your voice and dance in the rain for art is what we remember. A poem, a melody, a photograph - this is what makes life a little bit sweeter. These are the portals which connects us. Welcome new readers, enjoy the story. Come back for more.
Resigner Luth is a fantasy writer. Believe in magic, raise your voice and dance in the rain for art is what we remember. A poem, a melody, a photograph - this is what makes life a little bit sweeter. These are the portals which connects us. Welcome new readers, enjoy the story. Come back for more.
Resigner Luth is a fantasy writer. Believe in magic, raise your voice and dance in the rain for art is what we remember. A poem, a melody, a photograph - this is what makes life a little bit sweeter. These are the portals which connects us. Welcome new readers, enjoy the story. Come back for more.
April 2, 2022
April 2, 2022
April 2, 2022
Shredded dreams
Shredded dreams
Shredded dreams
Nightmare psychosis
Nightmare psychosis
Nightmare psychosis
Shredded Dreams
~yes, I know I promised "Small Mercy", unfortunately my characters seem to have taken control…so let us follow. This might be worth something.
Part one: The Nightmare
Cinders wakes in the dark. She is cold, but the cold feels wrong. In fact, everything she is sensing, from the familiar smell of wet dirt, to the blackness enveloping her feels unreal.
Her night vision has not yet returned, yet she knows that staying in the same place is dangerous. She tries to remember her teachings. If she remembers correctly, the rule of thumb was to stay in a safe place. Cinders does not feel safe. Quite the opposite.
She lifts up her aching limbs, trying to massage blood flow into her frozen hands. She carefully turns her head. Trying to ascertain from which direction the breeze is coming.
"Time to move, there's no quitting" she tells herself.
Blindly, she tries to find something to guide her, the last thing she wants is to tumble down a bottomless pit. That has been one nightmare that she's been suffering from since her last "prison". She wishes she had Red or the spider here, to help calm her jagged nerves. She suddenly realizes that her clothes are soaked, and not from the anxiety she is sweating out. The pockets of her coat are frozen shut. Perplexed, she yanks at the sleeves. Tearing at the inner lining of her coat, feeling for her weapons. She manages to free a dagger. She would have preferred a torch, but at least she is intensely familiar with this blade.
She passes corridors in the dark. This also reminds her of her adolescent nightmares she used to get. She recalls clearly how she would find herself lost in the castle. Where doors would suddenly appear. As if conjured by her imagination, she almost loses her footing when suddenly a door opens and the half decomposed face of one of her long dead tutors starts to torment her with riddles and questions.
"This IS a dream." She tells herself. "No, scratch that, this is a bloody nightmare!" She wonders how she could possibly wake herself, when she remembers flashes of her encounter in the woods today. She also has the worst pain in her neck. A constant burning itch, as if something is biting her - a tattoo of little stings. She can hear Redshadow's voice. Telling her that she would be fine. Assuring her that she is in good hands. Above all, she hears a howling. Like a werewolf in pain? No, this sound is echoing in the darkness surrounding her. A sound from the bowels of the earth. As if it, too, feels her pain and confusion.
Part two: Milk
~ Introducing a new player.
Meanwhile, within the compound, the rescue operation is in full swing. The loyal and dedicated revolutionaries have forsaken sleep and sustenance. Numerous tasks fill the air: fires are kindled, fences reinforced, and guard posts restored. Milk, Shadow's trusted young witch, has assumed the role of medic.
Shadows is astonished by how swiftly Milk arrived at the scene. While not entirely unexpected, Milk continues to surprise her captain with her skill and knowledge. Milk, the runaway who sought refuge with Shadows' group to escape some unknown horror, had earned Shadows' pride.
Moreover, Milk lives up to her name. Shadows has never encountered anyone so radiant from within, especially when animated. Shadows considers her one of the most adept students of the arcane. Additionally, Milk is beloved by a segment of the immortals who, despite Shadows' best efforts, remain aloof to her own charms.
With her youth and vigor, Milk seems blissfully unaware of many things. She has learned to use this to her advantage, earning favor with the "old guard," as Red calls them.
Milk, an attractive redhead with pixie-like features and large brown eyes, is undeniably peculiar. However, such peculiarity is par for the course among Shadows' highly trained militants. What sets Milk apart is her ability to fade into silence and invisibility at will, as well as her knack for quickly grasping the basics of nearly any task simply by observing and listening intently.
So, Shadows is grateful to have Milk on her team. Yet, she can't shake the feeling that, in Milk's case, joining them wasn't entirely a choice. Nonetheless, Shadows has decided to keep her onboard, recognizing the value of Milk's allies.
Finally, Shadows entrusts Milk with leadership while she and Vander retire to rest. Despite her exhaustion from the trials she's faced, compounded by the disorienting effects of portal travel, she struggles to remain upright. She understands that her body is on the verge of succumbing to fatigue-induced psychosis.
Despite her best efforts to rest, her thoughts persistently return to the fear of Cinders never returning. The dread gnaws at her, leaving her feeling hollow and adrift on a sea of adrenaline. Sleep comes in fits and starts until, after a few hours, she resolves to disregard it altogether and return to Cinders' seemingly lifeless form.
She observes as the Spider meticulously, yet ceaselessly, tattoos the royal rune onto Cinders' neck. Working with tireless, delicate and deadly precision.
Part 3: Chasing shredded dreams
She was so immersed in her thoughts that initially, she failed to notice her name being called. "Hmm?" However, before she could complete her question, she was enveloped in a lucid dream. "Cinders?" She cautiously approached the forlorn figure.
Assisted by costly enhancements, her enhanced night vision pierces through the enveloping darkness. "Cinders! Cease your flight, it's me. I'm here!" She mutters to herself about the uncertain location. This corridor, shrouded in darkness, emanates an unsettling pulse, as though its walls are poised to collapse with the slightest provocation. "Fantastic," she sighs, "This isn't exactly the vacation I had in mind."
Cinders, still oblivious to her presence seems lost but somehow gracefully contained.
"Good grief, she's pursuing her own figment; what a vivid imagination she possesses!" Shadows exhales deeply. "And now, we're both ensnared." She desperately hopes her werewolf companion will perceive her distress and rouse her from this state of uncertainty.
In an instant, a faint red glow nearly blinds her—the 'life-ink' tattoo signaling her. She hesitates momentarily, then rationalizes that the glow indicates a successful completion of the tattoo. Finally, she manages to grasp Cinders' wrist firmly. "Explain yourself," she demands.
She knows her tone is severe, but she can't fathom why Cinders would summon her here. Despite their growing sisterly bond, they remain somewhat distant.
Cinders, taken aback, almost shrieks in surprise. "What are YOU doing here?" she asks incredulously.
"Because you called me, princess. I don't go where I'm not wanted. Almost like that absurd myth mortals believe about vampires. Except, without the nonsensical rules about crosses and daylight."
"You're really here?" Cinders queries, glaring at her.
That's the one question Shadows can't quite answer. "I suppose I'm here in spirit," she shrugs, then counters, "Why summon me?"
Before Cinders can respond, Shadows grabs at her neck, her knees buckling from the pain. Shakily, she whispers, "That burns!"
"It will, for now."
"Despite what you think you know about me, understand this. I don't believe in coincidence or chance. You must have summoned me here for a reason."
Solemnly, Cinders nods, her throat on fire. "Take a look, but don't disturb the watcher."
"The watcher? There's no one here but us," Shadow exclaims. Cinders silences her with a gesture. "Trust me for once, please?" She takes Shadow's hand and leads her further into the dark tunnel, where Shadow notices the imposing metal door, almost rusted shut with age.
The door has a grille, dead center, as if it belongs in a sci-fi film about mental asylums. "Have a look," Cinders whispers.
Apprehensive but undeterred, curiosity prevailing, Shadow peers through the small "porthole." Her mouth almost drops open in surprise as she glimpses a figure fully cloaked in a metalworker apron and mask, hammering at a substance that nearly blinds her.
"In the darkness, you will find the sun," Cinders smiles.
"Okay, now you sound like a peculiarly daft fortune cookie. Stop it. It's eerie."
⨔ To be continued.
Keep on reading, this one entry leaves many questions as it's simply in large part the tale of a dream. The characters must wake. Find me at https://resignerluth.space or on https://ultraviolet.ink
Resigner 💜
#justmoveforward
♪♪♪
* The writer would like to thank the original creators whose work I used in this story. THANK YOU!
Shredded Dreams
~yes, I know I promised "Small Mercy", unfortunately my characters seem to have taken control…so let us follow. This might be worth something.
Part one: The Nightmare
Cinders wakes in the dark. She is cold, but the cold feels wrong. In fact, everything she is sensing, from the familiar smell of wet dirt, to the blackness enveloping her feels unreal.
Her night vision has not yet returned, yet she knows that staying in the same place is dangerous. She tries to remember her teachings. If she remembers correctly, the rule of thumb was to stay in a safe place. Cinders does not feel safe. Quite the opposite.
She lifts up her aching limbs, trying to massage blood flow into her frozen hands. She carefully turns her head. Trying to ascertain from which direction the breeze is coming.
"Time to move, there's no quitting" she tells herself.
Blindly, she tries to find something to guide her, the last thing she wants is to tumble down a bottomless pit. That has been one nightmare that she's been suffering from since her last "prison". She wishes she had Red or the spider here, to help calm her jagged nerves. She suddenly realizes that her clothes are soaked, and not from the anxiety she is sweating out. The pockets of her coat are frozen shut. Perplexed, she yanks at the sleeves. Tearing at the inner lining of her coat, feeling for her weapons. She manages to free a dagger. She would have preferred a torch, but at least she is intensely familiar with this blade.
She passes corridors in the dark. This also reminds her of her adolescent nightmares she used to get. She recalls clearly how she would find herself lost in the castle. Where doors would suddenly appear. As if conjured by her imagination, she almost loses her footing when suddenly a door opens and the half decomposed face of one of her long dead tutors starts to torment her with riddles and questions.
"This IS a dream." She tells herself. "No, scratch that, this is a bloody nightmare!" She wonders how she could possibly wake herself, when she remembers flashes of her encounter in the woods today. She also has the worst pain in her neck. A constant burning itch, as if something is biting her - a tattoo of little stings. She can hear Redshadow's voice. Telling her that she would be fine. Assuring her that she is in good hands. Above all, she hears a howling. Like a werewolf in pain? No, this sound is echoing in the darkness surrounding her. A sound from the bowels of the earth. As if it, too, feels her pain and confusion.
Part two: Milk
~ Introducing a new player.
Meanwhile, within the compound, the rescue operation is in full swing. The loyal and dedicated revolutionaries have forsaken sleep and sustenance. Numerous tasks fill the air: fires are kindled, fences reinforced, and guard posts restored. Milk, Shadow's trusted young witch, has assumed the role of medic.
Shadows is astonished by how swiftly Milk arrived at the scene. While not entirely unexpected, Milk continues to surprise her captain with her skill and knowledge. Milk, the runaway who sought refuge with Shadows' group to escape some unknown horror, had earned Shadows' pride.
Moreover, Milk lives up to her name. Shadows has never encountered anyone so radiant from within, especially when animated. Shadows considers her one of the most adept students of the arcane. Additionally, Milk is beloved by a segment of the immortals who, despite Shadows' best efforts, remain aloof to her own charms.
With her youth and vigor, Milk seems blissfully unaware of many things. She has learned to use this to her advantage, earning favor with the "old guard," as Red calls them.
Milk, an attractive redhead with pixie-like features and large brown eyes, is undeniably peculiar. However, such peculiarity is par for the course among Shadows' highly trained militants. What sets Milk apart is her ability to fade into silence and invisibility at will, as well as her knack for quickly grasping the basics of nearly any task simply by observing and listening intently.
So, Shadows is grateful to have Milk on her team. Yet, she can't shake the feeling that, in Milk's case, joining them wasn't entirely a choice. Nonetheless, Shadows has decided to keep her onboard, recognizing the value of Milk's allies.
Finally, Shadows entrusts Milk with leadership while she and Vander retire to rest. Despite her exhaustion from the trials she's faced, compounded by the disorienting effects of portal travel, she struggles to remain upright. She understands that her body is on the verge of succumbing to fatigue-induced psychosis.
Despite her best efforts to rest, her thoughts persistently return to the fear of Cinders never returning. The dread gnaws at her, leaving her feeling hollow and adrift on a sea of adrenaline. Sleep comes in fits and starts until, after a few hours, she resolves to disregard it altogether and return to Cinders' seemingly lifeless form.
She observes as the Spider meticulously, yet ceaselessly, tattoos the royal rune onto Cinders' neck. Working with tireless, delicate and deadly precision.
Part 3: Chasing shredded dreams
She was so immersed in her thoughts that initially, she failed to notice her name being called. "Hmm?" However, before she could complete her question, she was enveloped in a lucid dream. "Cinders?" She cautiously approached the forlorn figure.
Assisted by costly enhancements, her enhanced night vision pierces through the enveloping darkness. "Cinders! Cease your flight, it's me. I'm here!" She mutters to herself about the uncertain location. This corridor, shrouded in darkness, emanates an unsettling pulse, as though its walls are poised to collapse with the slightest provocation. "Fantastic," she sighs, "This isn't exactly the vacation I had in mind."
Cinders, still oblivious to her presence seems lost but somehow gracefully contained.
"Good grief, she's pursuing her own figment; what a vivid imagination she possesses!" Shadows exhales deeply. "And now, we're both ensnared." She desperately hopes her werewolf companion will perceive her distress and rouse her from this state of uncertainty.
In an instant, a faint red glow nearly blinds her—the 'life-ink' tattoo signaling her. She hesitates momentarily, then rationalizes that the glow indicates a successful completion of the tattoo. Finally, she manages to grasp Cinders' wrist firmly. "Explain yourself," she demands.
She knows her tone is severe, but she can't fathom why Cinders would summon her here. Despite their growing sisterly bond, they remain somewhat distant.
Cinders, taken aback, almost shrieks in surprise. "What are YOU doing here?" she asks incredulously.
"Because you called me, princess. I don't go where I'm not wanted. Almost like that absurd myth mortals believe about vampires. Except, without the nonsensical rules about crosses and daylight."
"You're really here?" Cinders queries, glaring at her.
That's the one question Shadows can't quite answer. "I suppose I'm here in spirit," she shrugs, then counters, "Why summon me?"
Before Cinders can respond, Shadows grabs at her neck, her knees buckling from the pain. Shakily, she whispers, "That burns!"
"It will, for now."
"Despite what you think you know about me, understand this. I don't believe in coincidence or chance. You must have summoned me here for a reason."
Solemnly, Cinders nods, her throat on fire. "Take a look, but don't disturb the watcher."
"The watcher? There's no one here but us," Shadow exclaims. Cinders silences her with a gesture. "Trust me for once, please?" She takes Shadow's hand and leads her further into the dark tunnel, where Shadow notices the imposing metal door, almost rusted shut with age.
The door has a grille, dead center, as if it belongs in a sci-fi film about mental asylums. "Have a look," Cinders whispers.
Apprehensive but undeterred, curiosity prevailing, Shadow peers through the small "porthole." Her mouth almost drops open in surprise as she glimpses a figure fully cloaked in a metalworker apron and mask, hammering at a substance that nearly blinds her.
"In the darkness, you will find the sun," Cinders smiles.
"Okay, now you sound like a peculiarly daft fortune cookie. Stop it. It's eerie."
⨔ To be continued.
Keep on reading, this one entry leaves many questions as it's simply in large part the tale of a dream. The characters must wake. Find me at https://resignerluth.space or on https://ultraviolet.ink
Resigner 💜
#justmoveforward
♪♪♪
* The writer would like to thank the original creators whose work I used in this story. THANK YOU!
Shredded Dreams
~yes, I know I promised "Small Mercy", unfortunately my characters seem to have taken control…so let us follow. This might be worth something.
Part one: The Nightmare
Cinders wakes in the dark. She is cold, but the cold feels wrong. In fact, everything she is sensing, from the familiar smell of wet dirt, to the blackness enveloping her feels unreal.
Her night vision has not yet returned, yet she knows that staying in the same place is dangerous. She tries to remember her teachings. If she remembers correctly, the rule of thumb was to stay in a safe place. Cinders does not feel safe. Quite the opposite.
She lifts up her aching limbs, trying to massage blood flow into her frozen hands. She carefully turns her head. Trying to ascertain from which direction the breeze is coming.
"Time to move, there's no quitting" she tells herself.
Blindly, she tries to find something to guide her, the last thing she wants is to tumble down a bottomless pit. That has been one nightmare that she's been suffering from since her last "prison". She wishes she had Red or the spider here, to help calm her jagged nerves. She suddenly realizes that her clothes are soaked, and not from the anxiety she is sweating out. The pockets of her coat are frozen shut. Perplexed, she yanks at the sleeves. Tearing at the inner lining of her coat, feeling for her weapons. She manages to free a dagger. She would have preferred a torch, but at least she is intensely familiar with this blade.
She passes corridors in the dark. This also reminds her of her adolescent nightmares she used to get. She recalls clearly how she would find herself lost in the castle. Where doors would suddenly appear. As if conjured by her imagination, she almost loses her footing when suddenly a door opens and the half decomposed face of one of her long dead tutors starts to torment her with riddles and questions.
"This IS a dream." She tells herself. "No, scratch that, this is a bloody nightmare!" She wonders how she could possibly wake herself, when she remembers flashes of her encounter in the woods today. She also has the worst pain in her neck. A constant burning itch, as if something is biting her - a tattoo of little stings. She can hear Redshadow's voice. Telling her that she would be fine. Assuring her that she is in good hands. Above all, she hears a howling. Like a werewolf in pain? No, this sound is echoing in the darkness surrounding her. A sound from the bowels of the earth. As if it, too, feels her pain and confusion.
Part two: Milk
~ Introducing a new player.
Meanwhile, within the compound, the rescue operation is in full swing. The loyal and dedicated revolutionaries have forsaken sleep and sustenance. Numerous tasks fill the air: fires are kindled, fences reinforced, and guard posts restored. Milk, Shadow's trusted young witch, has assumed the role of medic.
Shadows is astonished by how swiftly Milk arrived at the scene. While not entirely unexpected, Milk continues to surprise her captain with her skill and knowledge. Milk, the runaway who sought refuge with Shadows' group to escape some unknown horror, had earned Shadows' pride.
Moreover, Milk lives up to her name. Shadows has never encountered anyone so radiant from within, especially when animated. Shadows considers her one of the most adept students of the arcane. Additionally, Milk is beloved by a segment of the immortals who, despite Shadows' best efforts, remain aloof to her own charms.
With her youth and vigor, Milk seems blissfully unaware of many things. She has learned to use this to her advantage, earning favor with the "old guard," as Red calls them.
Milk, an attractive redhead with pixie-like features and large brown eyes, is undeniably peculiar. However, such peculiarity is par for the course among Shadows' highly trained militants. What sets Milk apart is her ability to fade into silence and invisibility at will, as well as her knack for quickly grasping the basics of nearly any task simply by observing and listening intently.
So, Shadows is grateful to have Milk on her team. Yet, she can't shake the feeling that, in Milk's case, joining them wasn't entirely a choice. Nonetheless, Shadows has decided to keep her onboard, recognizing the value of Milk's allies.
Finally, Shadows entrusts Milk with leadership while she and Vander retire to rest. Despite her exhaustion from the trials she's faced, compounded by the disorienting effects of portal travel, she struggles to remain upright. She understands that her body is on the verge of succumbing to fatigue-induced psychosis.
Despite her best efforts to rest, her thoughts persistently return to the fear of Cinders never returning. The dread gnaws at her, leaving her feeling hollow and adrift on a sea of adrenaline. Sleep comes in fits and starts until, after a few hours, she resolves to disregard it altogether and return to Cinders' seemingly lifeless form.
She observes as the Spider meticulously, yet ceaselessly, tattoos the royal rune onto Cinders' neck. Working with tireless, delicate and deadly precision.
Part 3: Chasing shredded dreams
She was so immersed in her thoughts that initially, she failed to notice her name being called. "Hmm?" However, before she could complete her question, she was enveloped in a lucid dream. "Cinders?" She cautiously approached the forlorn figure.
Assisted by costly enhancements, her enhanced night vision pierces through the enveloping darkness. "Cinders! Cease your flight, it's me. I'm here!" She mutters to herself about the uncertain location. This corridor, shrouded in darkness, emanates an unsettling pulse, as though its walls are poised to collapse with the slightest provocation. "Fantastic," she sighs, "This isn't exactly the vacation I had in mind."
Cinders, still oblivious to her presence seems lost but somehow gracefully contained.
"Good grief, she's pursuing her own figment; what a vivid imagination she possesses!" Shadows exhales deeply. "And now, we're both ensnared." She desperately hopes her werewolf companion will perceive her distress and rouse her from this state of uncertainty.
In an instant, a faint red glow nearly blinds her—the 'life-ink' tattoo signaling her. She hesitates momentarily, then rationalizes that the glow indicates a successful completion of the tattoo. Finally, she manages to grasp Cinders' wrist firmly. "Explain yourself," she demands.
She knows her tone is severe, but she can't fathom why Cinders would summon her here. Despite their growing sisterly bond, they remain somewhat distant.
Cinders, taken aback, almost shrieks in surprise. "What are YOU doing here?" she asks incredulously.
"Because you called me, princess. I don't go where I'm not wanted. Almost like that absurd myth mortals believe about vampires. Except, without the nonsensical rules about crosses and daylight."
"You're really here?" Cinders queries, glaring at her.
That's the one question Shadows can't quite answer. "I suppose I'm here in spirit," she shrugs, then counters, "Why summon me?"
Before Cinders can respond, Shadows grabs at her neck, her knees buckling from the pain. Shakily, she whispers, "That burns!"
"It will, for now."
"Despite what you think you know about me, understand this. I don't believe in coincidence or chance. You must have summoned me here for a reason."
Solemnly, Cinders nods, her throat on fire. "Take a look, but don't disturb the watcher."
"The watcher? There's no one here but us," Shadow exclaims. Cinders silences her with a gesture. "Trust me for once, please?" She takes Shadow's hand and leads her further into the dark tunnel, where Shadow notices the imposing metal door, almost rusted shut with age.
The door has a grille, dead center, as if it belongs in a sci-fi film about mental asylums. "Have a look," Cinders whispers.
Apprehensive but undeterred, curiosity prevailing, Shadow peers through the small "porthole." Her mouth almost drops open in surprise as she glimpses a figure fully cloaked in a metalworker apron and mask, hammering at a substance that nearly blinds her.
"In the darkness, you will find the sun," Cinders smiles.
"Okay, now you sound like a peculiarly daft fortune cookie. Stop it. It's eerie."
⨔ To be continued.
Keep on reading, this one entry leaves many questions as it's simply in large part the tale of a dream. The characters must wake. Find me at https://resignerluth.space or on https://ultraviolet.ink
Resigner 💜
#justmoveforward
♪♪♪
* The writer would like to thank the original creators whose work I used in this story. THANK YOU!
