I have returned! *Everyone runs away* No come back; I'm lonely! Aw... Oh well, at least The Reader is still here. Hey welcome back.

I hope you remember me, Yours The Author (Just "The Author", please) and I hope you remember the prequel, "The Cult of Veneziano". If you don't, you'll have to read that first, because chronology is important and messing with it is not nice. I've taken a few days for break; I posted a short dialogue for Homestuck if you'd like to read that when you're done, and I got three out of five bells for Animal Parade. Harvest Moon logic is thoroughly irritating, but it's satisfying to hear those bells ring. (Come on, Ben, how could you forget the bell's melody? That is literally your only purpose in life. Finn should have your job; he'd be better at it than you!) Ahem... Video game frustrations aside, I worked out this little piece of story in about two hours. That might show, so tell me if I can improve! Now, without further ado:

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or HetaOni. They belong to their respective owners and their creative abilities are admired and appreciated.

Trigger

Line Break Let's See If This Works Blah Blah I'm A Member Of The Midnight Crew

Prologue

Dreams have been contemplated for many years. Some say they are mere repetitions of the previous day's events. Others say they are the subconscious revelation of a solution to the problem you've had for perhaps quite a long. Stills others say that they are images of the future gifted by spirits. Most of the images are forgotten in the human mind as we wake up in the earliest hours of the morning; our sleep crusted eyes just missing said visiting spirits and the insects who watch your slumber. If anyone asked Feliciano Vargas what dreams were for, he would probably tell them that they were the flare signal to the worst weekend ever.

Feliciano was on the floor. He didn't remember falling asleep on the floor, but after the entire mansion incident he was so relieved he'd often sleep anywhere. The psychologists were wondrous, but that's not important to the situation of being on a floor. He felt as though his arms were rubber, dripping onto the ground around him and on the chains on his wrists. His head ached as if he had done nothing put lie around and take siestas all day. His stomach was empty. The room was dim and flickered with the firelight from a small bonfire before him. He was the only one there, but eyes seemed to peer through the darkness at him. He hadn't felt so watched since he entered the mansion for the second time.

A woman stepped behind the fire and looked at him facelessly. She was a tall, gangly ice sculpture with a posture that commanded, "Do as I say, when I say it." She was dressed in 1500's northern European dress: a long dark gray dress with a V-neck that revealed a solid black kirtle. Her hair was straight and wooden brown. She regarded him as one would regard the growing of grass.

The fire separated them. It licked and slathered at the bottom of a witches pot, black as obsidian. The woman stepped closer the pot. "Smettere…" Italy said. "Per favore…" The woman gripped at the rim of the pot. Her hands burned and her face twisted with pain, but she held fast. The void behind her seemed to flicker light gray reflections. The woman took a deep breath, pushed herself up, and got into the pot. She sank almost immediately. The pot seemed only two feet deep, but she was flushed beyond the bottom, hands outstretched and expressing what her melted mouth could not.

The reflections on the other side of the fire grew stronger and solid. Dread sank its fangs into Feliciano's heart. The solid gray matter sneered and whispered, YOU… WON'T… ESCAPE…

Dream Skip Time Skip Line Break Thingy

"Fratello, wake up!" Feliciano sat up in bed and shoved at the ropes holding him down. "Fratello, it's me! Get up!" Feliciano opened his eyes and stared into a pair of olive orbs. Feliciano realized the ropes were just the hands of his brother, Lovino. Lovino glared down at him with a reverse crease in his brow. "Whatever the heck that was, it's gone. It's gone." He hugged his little brother and patted his back. Feliciano stared at the opposite wall of his bedroom. It was light outside, but it was way too early for the Italian brothers liking. The sheets on their king sized bed were wrinkled and pulled onto to Feliciano's side. He took a few deep breaths and slowly faced his older brother. Lovino looked at him in concern. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Feliciano whispered. "And I don't want it to happen."

"What on Earth-?"

"We need to call them."

Lovino frowned. Only in case of an emergency, she had told them. Feliciano had taken those words very seriously, and refused to call anyone no matter how bad the nightmare. This meant the other nations had to tell their psychologists, who would tell his psychologist, who would tell him, once again, that his number was different from her number and that it was perfectly fine to call him for nightmares. "If you think we need to…" Lovino said slowly.

"We need to." Feliciano repeated. He sat up in bed and reached for his phone on the nightstand. He murmured the numbers as he pressed the buttons and held the phone to his ear, Lovino watching more worriedly than he'd like to let on. "Ciao, Brittany Davis? It's Feliciano Vargas. I need the Cult of Veneziano to come to my meeting place for an emergency. Today."

Line Break Let's See If This Works Blah Blah I'm A Member Of The Midnight Crew

Roll credits! And that's the end of the prologue. What do you think? Not too shabby for a two hour's scrap job, eh?

Remember how great those near daily updates were with the prequel? Sorry, I don't think I'll be able to do that this time. Unlike the last story, I haven't thought about this one in a long time. I have some basic groundwork, but it's been so long (since at least last summer) that my plans for the plot are extremely vague. On the plus side, I have a sort of map thing of which stuff to include in each chapter! That'll probably change, as there's probably more stuff in each plot point that the space on the page gives credit for. I'm worried that if I write each chapter in a day and then post it, it'll be under the par that I assume most of you expect from me. I know I should try to keep a consistent schedule (how on Earth does Rick Riordan [who I don't own] write a new installment for a story with that much detail and interwoven plot connections in the course of a year? How does Andrew Hussie [Who I also don't own] do the same in a course of a few months, for that matter? I swear they're able to slow down time for themselves so they can do it at their own pace! Oof!) but I am lazy, probably more so than the last updates would make you think! So I need all of the hard critique, guys. It's the best way you can help and the only way I can learn.

So please leave me a review and tell me what you think. Who's that mysterious lady? Why'd she jump into a pot of something that was clearly going to kill her? Are there others involved? Of course there are. It's called "The Cult of Steve". I'm pretty sure cults have more than one person in it. So yeah, no suspence there; I'll just tell you she's a member of that cult. But what is the purpose of bringing the monster back? (Yeah, I think you could all guess that was what they were doing.) Will I ever stop telling you things that could be considered spoilers. Only if you make me. If you don't like it, you have to tell me in a review. Otherwise I'll keep doing and unknowingly hurt your feelings. So leave a review, look at my profile and other stories, and I'll see you when I figure out how to be a competent author. Until then!