Chapter 2

Age of Solstice, 16:71

Tulasquss, Drazul's Plane

Drazul was sitting in her dining room, looking through her large windows that overlooked the other snow-covered mountains around her home. The windows were frosted at the edges of the window panes, the candlelight reflecting beautifully, twinkling. She held up her mug of tea to sip, her shawl around her shoulders, as she continued to be lost in thought. She stared around the dining room; the tables edge was covered in intricate carvings of moons and stars, the back of the chair sharing the pattern. The walls and ceiling were lined with plants and vines, the greenery completing the coziness of the pale wood and green cushions. The dining room was one of her more favorite parts of her house.

Which is a lot considering her whole house is her personal work of art. During her many years alive, she met a mortal artisan talented in many mediums and their passion was wild and everlasting. Together, they built the interior of her home. She finds herself eyeing their work quite often but is reminded constantly of her immortality.

The artisan was the last mortal she dared to meet. While she doesn't often make many friends or relationships, she finds that she can no longer handle their passing. Time has been passing far too swiftly in her eyes.

She is cursed to remain alone. Just as she was alone since birth, she is destined to be alone in her eternal life.

Drazul sighed, taking her mug with her as she sauntered towards the sitting room. The beautiful stone fireplace lit up as she sat in her armchair and made herself comfortable. The fireplace was made of stone, carved to imitate that of a tree trunk with showering moss and flowers. Her armchair and sofa were rustic, their frames made of dark wood and engraved with painted golden leaves sprinkled throughout, the cushions burgundy. A slab of wood stripped from a large tree trunk was made into a low table, the rug under it maroon with black floral patterns intertwining. She placed her mug down on the table, leaning into her chair.

Her thoughts lingered awhile before she slowly began dozing off as she watched the fire. Once she finally fell asleep, her dreams enveloped her.

Even when she sleeps, she is awake. Dreams are merely another plane thanks to her powers. In this plane, she can travel as much and as far as she wants. Here, everyone's dreams can be seen. Some are moving pictures, others are words, some just sound and then there are nightmares. She calls it the Dream Web, since dreams appear and overlap; they come to be in one place. Since the plane is made from dreams, she starts her travels first in her own dream. Other dreams appear seamlessly as if apart of her own. For example, if Drazul were to start in an overgrown village, the outskirts of the village could appear as a desert, meaning that was the end of her dream and the beginning of another.

This is why she refers to this realm as the Dream Web.

Out of all dreams, Drazul loathes nightmares. Many nightmares are manifestations of one's life events, many traumatic, and she would find her anger soaring. The first few nightmares she witnessed were just that. That was the first time she found that she could exit another's dream and appear before the host, back in reality. She was younger then, her anger was still palpable. She murdered many on behalf of the hosts. Many did not appreciate her interference, but she couldn't care less.

'Scum exist to be purged.' Would be her words in parting.

She continues to do so now, as purging evil and worse tends to be the only satisfaction she can obtain currently.

Although, tonight, is very different.

Drazul traversed her dream in search of another, only to find that the next dream was sound. Twas song that was carried into her dream. However, in the general direction this song came was a red thread that was on the ground. This was the first time that she saw an empty dream. This dream was pitch black. The other end of the red thread was leading into it, song being the only guide within. Drazul felt uneasy.

For the first time in centuries, she sensed another's power.

However, she cannot afford to miss this chance. The first clue in five centuries has finally appeared and she will seize it.

Drazul walked briskly towards the red thread only for it to rise and lunge at Drazul. Drazul, taken aback, attempted to dodge but failed as the thread looped toward her and around her left wrist, tangling itself several times over before falling limp. Drazul, dazed, stared at the thread in disbelief.

She cannot determine if this is fate forced upon her or if the thread was merely revealing what has already been there.

Nonetheless, she followed the thread into the darkness.

As she walked for what seemed like ages, she found a seam. Light shone through it as it glowed brighter and brighter as she approached.

"Impossible." Drazul breathed.

She pulled at the seam to reveal exactly what she expected. She stepped through and found herself exiting the Dream Web and into the dimension that holds the Universe intact.

She called this dimension The Depths.

The Depths consisted of large spheres of water cradled by clouds, scattered throughout, unending. They were larger than Drazul and were suspended in space, stars and galaxies betwist it all. Beneath her was a pink sky, above her was space, the stars everywhere, not knowing where they belong. It was a place so alien to Drazul, she didn't like lingering here and only did so when she desired to visit other planes. Each sphere was a different world with their own different country of Tulasquss on its own Earth. Some were far ahead of Drazul's time, and other's behind. They were all fascinating.

However, what brought her here was the thread, still leading to its source within The Depths. She was on alert now, because she realized the song never ceased. She has no idea what to expect except to be prepared. She continued to follow the thread all through The Depths, gliding between each cradled sphere before reaching the one she was searching for. The thread was hanging from the sphere, water lapping in motion as Drazul stared at it. The clouds, which Drazul uses to understand the status of a plane, was black. This means that this plane is enduring a disaster of sorts.

Drazul waved her hand over the sphere, the water calming as it slowed enough for her to look within. The spheres of water work as a window and door into another plane. Looking in, Drazul could see that the disaster was plague. She threw up her hood and stepped into the calm water.

Age of Glory, 10:20

Tulasquss, New Plane

She stayed afloat in the sky and found herself overlooking an abandoned part of a thriving city. She was looking at the slums and it was empty, showing no signs of any who live near. The thread around her wrist was shaking as she was closer to her target now. She flew downward, following the thread to an worn shack.

The song was louder now but in reality, she knew it was silent. A lament only she can hear. To hear a tragic voice, a whisper, stretch so far as to call for her, entering her dream and defying the rules of time and space, just reaching for her. She has a feeling this was not the benevolent one but someone else. Whoever this is, they are desperate and experiencing great pain. They, like her, possess similar powers. How else can she explain what the fuck is happening.

As she approached the shack, she was surrounded by abandoned buildings, forced to be empty against their owners' will. She pulls her gaze away from her surroundings back to the shack and sees it's broken door hung open. She entered the shack, snapping her fingers to produce a pink flame. As it slowly revealed the contents of the shack, Drazul was immediately hit with an awful stench.

'Seems death has come.' Drazul thought passively.

She noticed a corpse of a woman on a makeshift bed at the corner of the shack. Drazul turned away to keep looking, trying to follow the thread but it was sprawled and tangled throughout the shack. The song was quieter, now a real whisper. She looked around until she realized there was a hunched clump on the floor near the makeshift bed. It was under torn cloth and rags but the thread was also there. Drazul sauntered towards the clump, kneeling down to move the rags aside.

As she did, it revealed a child.

There it is. The source of the lament.

Drazul sighed, realizing the child's song was their last goodbye to the world, cursing it for what it had done. The child was beckoning death, readily, eagerly. Odd, though, as the host is still alive.

The child was no more than 13 years at most, she guessed. The plague does not pursue them, so why are they begging death? Why was she brought here? She lowered her pink flame to see the child's face clearly.

The child slowly opened their eyes, adjusting to the light. The poor thing couldn't even lift their head properly to look up at Drazul. They weren't frightened. Drazul thought not, considering the circumstances. Drazul stares for a moment before she spoke,

"You chose to die yet you did not. Why, child, do you cling to life when you turned to kiss death?"

The child merely stared. Malnourished, exhaustion and worse told Drazul that she would not get a word. Drazul attempted to read the childs' mind but it was far too quiet to make anything out. Every sound her mind was making was nothing but quiet mumbling she couldn't make out.

Drazul hadn't expected to see a child. Nine centuries passed without any irregularities until now. Drazul concluded that she wasn't about to let this child fade away.

Without more thought, Drazul spoke,

"To live, I must take from you that which you hold dear."

Drazul's eyes began to glow as she began to perform a ritual. She drew symbols in the air, chanting silently into them, as they glowed a hot pink with each chant. They burned brilliantly before she blew at them, the symbols riding her breath towards the child.

The symbols hovered, combining to become what appeared to be a dagger. It fluttered above the child's face, twinkling a moment before piercing the child's right eye, blood sputtering all over with every jab the knife dug. The child screamed, their voice hoarse and shrill. The child writhed in agony, however, they couldn't escape the dagger as every attempt they made to scoot away only made the dagger follow.

'I am sorry, child. You are far too important to let wither away.'

Drazul performed a ritual that is meant to help the recipient stay alive by taking something beloved. It is intentionally vague but to think the child's beloved thing was their right eye. Drazul didn't anticipate this at all but it must be done. While the child may have power, their's was incredibly weak compared to Drazul's. They were also not touched by immortality, seeing how close to death the child sppeared. She had no choice, her hands were tied.

The child was panting, their breathing ragged and uneven. The magic held the eye above them for a moment before being whisked away to the palms of Drazul's hands. Without a single thought, her hands crushed the eye, causing a bright purple fire to burst from within her grasp.

All that remained of the eye twas a purple flame. Drazul motioned her palms towards the child, guiding the flame to them. The flame took its rightful place within the now-hollow socket of their right eye. The child was stunned, their body twitching. After a few more moments as the ritual had came to end, the child passed out from the immense pain and injury.

Drazul stepped forward, taking them into her arms. It was time to return.