Levi stared intently at the brightly glowing monitor, his blood running hotter at each rapid beat of his heart. He moved his fingers the best way he knew, hoping that his efforts would be enough to overcome those of the individual clacking away at his plastic keyboard hundreds and thousands of miles away. One mistake could be fatal; yet, he had already made more than one error in his calculations leading up to that vital point. A mistimed press of a button sent a bullet flying inches away from the exposed head of his opponent. His blood ran cold as he stared down the blackened steel barrel of a lethal sniper rifle. At this range, the virtual enemy would have no trouble dispatching him with a simple twitch of the finger.
A startling bang, followed by a flash of red. His doubts proved true all too quickly.
"Eliminated by xx_x420blzx_xx"
Sighing, he readied himself for his next encounter with the enemy,
and then the next,
and then the next,
and then the next,
until he jammed his finger into his computer's manual power button, causing the pane of color to fizzle into a sheet of black glass instantly. In one long, exhausted sigh, he let go of the frustration and disappointment that comes hand in hand with a poor online multiplayer match. His mind came up with the usual excuses as to his less than par performance: server lag, a neck bearded hacker hurling lines of code into the system with one hand and guzzling gallons upon gallons of rather unhealthy energizing drinks in the other, and other perfectly rational reasons. He ran a clammy hand through a mop of unkempt blackish hair that clearly looked to be in need of a thorough wash. His greenish eyes fell upon the series of red, luminescent digits on his electronic clock: 1:12. Yet another weekend spent in the company of a computer screen and numerous glass dishes.
Ahead, yet another week in the company of those he cared as much about as they cared about him. Yet another routine series of minutes that crawled on like hours performing tasks that he, and most he associated with, for that matter, found as menial and meaningless as the actions of a single tired ant.
While a good night's rest might've been beneficial, the trio of canned caffeinated drinks sprawled across his desk were a stark reminder that sleep might allude him for the next few hours.
A flash of light, a rush of color, of crimson and silver, the glow of a blade wet with blood and a sharp, hot pain in his left shoulder caused him to wince. The scene played out in his memory as it did every unconscious night for the past two weeks, the same terrible dream repeated unceasingly whenever sleep caught him off guard. Blackness, assumed to be the dark emptiness of a room of indeterminable size, filled his vision, as it always did. He remembered vividly each time he tried to move one of his appendages, only to always find them bound by some type of metallic restraining device. Unable to escape captivity, he could only await the inevitable. A small orange wick of flame erupts suddenly, revealing a figure dressed in a robe so black he may have mistaken it for the surrounding darkness. A moment of utter silence is abruptly ended by the sharp, clean sound of a silver dagger being drawn from its sheath. Struggling against his restraints to no avail, he finds that his mouth also is shut by an unknown force, preventing him from crying out against the figure robed in darkness.
As it always happens, every sleeping night, over the past fortnight, the figure drives the dagger into his left shoulder. He remains silent, unable to scream in pain as salty tears blind his vision and stream down his red, hot cheeks.
He grabs the area in his left shoulder reflexively, finding, of course, no evidence of the blade's entrance or exit. While the fact that the dream remained just that, he wondered how one could experience such vivid pain during unconsciousness, how one could remember each passing moment of a nightmare with such tempered clarity that even reality seemed artificial in comparison. He wiped the formulating sweat off his brow, sighing dejectedly as he finally faced what the energy drinks could only hold at bay for so long. Without sleep, there was no doubt in his mind that the following school day would be a disaster. Besides, if he didn't fall asleep now, he was bound to do so at some point, likely the most inconvenient time of the following day.
"No reason to put this off any longer."
The darkness remained silent as his voice filled the smallish room for but a moment. Perhaps, he reassured himself, tonight would be different. Perhaps the recurring nightmare would finally come to an end. Yet, in the depths of his heart, doubt and dread stirred, as it did every night. How long was this going to continue? No mortal man could put up with such terrors of the night for much longer, and it seemed that no divine intervention would provide him relief.
He felt his eyelids shut without his consent. He could offer no more resistance as he focused on the sound of his own slowing heartbeat, a comforting reminder that he was indeed still alive, and would awake the next morning just as such.
Levi's eyes opened to an unfortunately familiar sight. Darkness, just as deep and devouring as it always was. He prepared his mind for the inevitable, for the white hot pain of a dagger in his shoulder and the echoing silence of a figure robed in the night.
He waited. Unable to hold it in any longer, he released the hot breath stored in his lungs. The sound of air moving filled his ears as the gears in his mind fell in place.
A change. Something's different. I could hear myself breathe. I can breathe!
A welcome emotion pushed a portion of the dread and fear from his gut as he continued to inhale and exhale in wonder. The dream still felt much the same, with his movement hindered by what he assumed to be chains and the musky smell of an older room in his nostrils. However, with the slight change of his ability to open his mouth and hear himself merely exist came the possibility that something else could also differ from the usual procedure. He allowed what he assumed to be a minute or two pass, and with no sign of the figure or their blade, began to experiment with the bonds rooting him in place.
Usually, they were so taught against his wrists and ankles that not even his best attempts at fighting against them produced any results. After straining for a few moments as methodically and quietly as possible, he found that there was just enough give in the chain shackled to his left wrist to remove what he assumed to be a nail or bolt. The metal item fell to the ground with an ear piercing clang, old steel crashing against hard stone. He intrinsically held his breath and braced for the worst, for the figure to appear and stab him without warning. When no such fate befell him, however, he took in a deep breath to calm his nerves and set about loosening the restraint further. As he jerked his wrist against the iron shackle, more and more individual pieces of metal fell and his ability to fight against the worn restraint grew. Biting through the pain of his skin grinding into the unforgiving device, he pulled as hard as he could, finally breaking through the tired, rusted metal.
Catching his breath, he peered into the blackness, scanning for any unwelcome changes. His heart stopped for a moment as his eyes detected a tiny glimmer of light, an orange speck in the nothingness. As the seconds crawled on, the light became larger and more defined, flickering as it always did each and every night.
Perhaps the assailant was alerted to the sound of his attempts to break free, perhaps it was coincidence that they come at such an inopportune moment. He realized with dread that the same law that gave him the ability to escape his imprisonment also opened the door for unthinkable acts that the figure could perform with their weapon other than the usual ritual. He considered using his free hand to break the chain restraining his right; however, any thought of executing that plan was cut abruptly short by the sound of footsteps ringing in his ears. Without thinking, he threw his freed left hand upwards, hoping against hope that the figure wouldn't notice the missing shackle.
He held his breath as the cloaked figure halted a few inches from his face. They said nothing, gazing emptily into his eyes.
Moments pass, and no blade was drawn. The figure cocked their head underneath their hood, obviously intrigued by something.
There's no point in simply allowing them to have their way. This might be my only chance to stop this. I have to do something. Move!
Say something! Anything!
"Why?"
His voice surprised him as much as it shocks the figure. They leapt backward a step, drawing their silver dagger. Levi pressed on, unable to allow the moment pass him by.
"Please. Just stop doing this. I can't take it anymore! I don't know what I did wrong. I don't even know who the hell you are, or where I am! Please... for the love of God, just stop it."
His voice grows raspy and tired as he finishes his desperate plea.
Moments of agonizing silence passed as the mysterious figure remained perfectly still. Levi's body shook in terror and his lips trembled in fear as he found himself unable to move a muscle.
Suddenly, a shrill, piercing sound erupted from the figure. It took Levi a few moments to process the noise before he fully accepted the insanity of what he was hearing.
Laughter.
It continued, raising and dropping in pitch and tone as the figure's body convulsed against it's own force.
The figure sounded resoundingly feminine, hardly to Levi's reassurance.
That voice sounds... familiar. Impossibly so. I've never heard anything like it; yet, why do I feel like I know who it belongs to?
The woman underneath the cloak composed herself long enough to respond to Levi's frantic questioning,
"Why stop now, my lover? We are so very close to becoming one. To becoming whole. With your ability to speak comes my ability to give you the gift of the Sight. I will awaken your Third Eye, and we will become one. Isn't that what you wanted? What we wanted?"
Levi couldn't begin to wrap his mind around what the mysterious cloaked woman's ramblings before she pointed the blade towards his chest, inching closer.
"My blood boils for you. Does your heart ache for me?"
His body acting without the conscious permission of his mind, his left hand shot forward and grabbed the wrist of the woman mere inches from his rapidly beating heart. Surprised by the attack, she reared back from his grip and fell, losing grip of the knife as she collapsed to the floor. With all his might, Levi clutched onto the hilt of the blade, accidentally piercing the skin of his index finger on its sharp edge. Crimson droplets of blood fell to the floor as he shouted in pain,
"What the hell... what the actual hell! You just tried to kill me! Are you completely batshit insane? Who are you?"
Recovering from her fall, the figure rose to her feet, retrieving the flickering wooden torch from the ground. Her hood removed, Levi saw his assailant's pale face in the dim, orange light.
Her facial features were taught and mangled, as if a million thoughts were swirling in her head at once. In stark contrast to the chaos of her expression, her long, violet hair straightened and clean. Her purple eyes stared directly into his, their irises daggers in themselves.
Levi's expression went completely blank as his mind attempted to understand the information communicated by his eyes. That violet hair, her deep, purple eyes so lost in thought... the figure unmistakably resembled someone from his recent past, someone that, for all he knew, didn't even exist.
"Yuri? Is that you?"