Chapter One: Lost in a Dream
"It has many names. The Fade. The Spirit Realm. The Realm of the Dead. The Realm of Dreams.
It is the place where magic comes from.
It is the domain of great and powerful spirits and specters, kindly angels and malevolent demons.
It is where dreams originate, as well as nightmares.
It is the ethereal plain of existence that stitches the multiverse together, that connects one universe to another with invisible threads. It acts as a bridge between the worlds, between reality and fiction, between existence and nonexistence.
The Realm of Dreams is unpredictable.
The terrain itself is spontaneous. A traveler who has been walking for many miles in dark caverns full of lava and fire may suddenly find himself in the middle of a snowy wasteland that stretches on for as far as the eye can see.
The creatures within are as fickle as the land. The spirits who call the realm their home are just as likely to put a knife in your gut as they are to point you in the direction of home.
Time means nothing there. A man can walk for eons and only make it a few steps, or complete an impossibly long journey in a matter of seconds.
Yes, the Realm of Dreams is truly unpredictable. It is wild. It is random.
And yet, it is the greatest consistency in all the worlds and all the universes, for aren't they all connected by it? No matter how different they may be, no matter how impossibly far away from each other they are, do they not all have this in common? Do not all the inhabitants of these worlds touch the Realm of Dreams in their sleep? Do they not all manipulate the Fade when they do their sorcery, their wizardry, their magic? Do they not all, upon the ceasing of their hearts and the ending of their mortal lives, have to traverse the Spirit Realm in their journey to the Land Beyond?
The Realm of Dreams is everywhere, and yet it is also nowhere. It exists outside the universe—outside all the universes, and indeed, perhaps outside the multiverse itself. It exists in space that transcends space, both before the beginning of time and well after its end, and right on the border between life and death.
So, to answer your question, human, you are nowhere and everywhere all at once.
You are in the realm beyond space and time, beyond the universe, beyond the heap of flesh and blood you call your body.
You are in the place where magic comes from.
You are in the place where the spirits of the dead walk.
You are in the place where mortals wander in their slumber.
You are within the Realm of Dreams."
The mortal man just stood there for a moment, taking all this in. He did his best to avoid staring at the fearsome demon who was addressing him, looking instead at the space around him. Above and below him there was nothing but the blue-and-purple-tinged blackness of the Void, which was only illuminated by the occasional twinkling of a star, moon, or other celestial body. He stood on a rocky platform which floated—miraculously suspended in midair by some unknown force— above what was surely a never-ending fall into the icy cold emptiness of eternity. He was at a crossroads of sorts; a place at which a dozen other floating pathways of stone forked off in random directions.
And there, at the opposite end of the platform, stooping at the junction of all the paths and effectively blocking his way forward, was the demon. Try as he might, the man found that he could not avoid looking at it; the grotesque ebony-black shape—like a shadow, but too real, too solid, too substantial—with fiery red eyes, who, were it not for the multitude of horns, spikes, and tentacles that jutted out of his entire body at random intervals, might have seemed vaguely humanoid.
The man scratched a thin layer of stubble on his chin nervously. Finally, he spoke.
"Err…yeah, I know that. When I asked where I was, I sort of meant it more…specifically. You know?"
The demon blinked. The man swallowed timidly, but continued.
"What I, uh, meant, was…where in the Fade—err, or the Realm of Dreams, or the Spirit Realm, or whatever—am I? What part? Whose domain? Which demon's kingdom?"
"Oh. Is that all you wanted to know?" asked the demon sheepishly, or at least as sheepishly as a terrifying specter from another plain of existence could manage. "Well then. That is actually a much easier question to answer without resorting to philosophical conjecture and speculation." The demon gestured to the surrounding land. "This is my domain. I am the Demon Lord of Long-Winded Introductory Exposition and Casual Soul-Devouring."
"Casual Soul-Devouring?" asked the man after a brief hesitation.
"It's just a hobby, really."
"Ah."
There was a short pause.
"So…do you, err, plan on…well, you know, devouring my soul?"
"That would be traditional, yes."
"Ah." Said the mortal, rather crestfallen. That was definitely a bad omen. Perhaps if he changed the subject, though, the demon would forget. It was worth a shot.
"Uh, so your realm includes this colossal labyrinth of floating earthen pathways, does it?" he asked, doing his best to sound impressed.
"Err…well, I mean basically…" The Demon Lord of Long-Winded Introductory Exposition and Casual Soul-Devouring stuttered, doing his best to look embarrassed but still coming across as moderately horrifying. "I mean I…uh, no. No. Not really. The pathways themselves lead all over the Realm of Dreams. They belong to whatever demon owns the fief it leads to. I just own this." He stomped on the ground at the area where the pathways met. "This area. The crossroads."
"Oh." Said the man.
"Yeah." Said the Demon Lord of Long-Winded Introductory Exposition and Casual Soul-Devouring.
"Nice place." Said the man, trying to be complimentary. "Very…homey."
"Yeah, well, I chose it because I thought I'd get a lot of traffic, you know? Meet a couple of wayward travelers? Get to explain to them where they are in a lengthy monologue, get their stories started, perhaps relieve them of their soul if it isn't too much trouble? But I don't know…haven't met many mortals these last couple thousand years. I think my real estate agent might have pulled the wool over my eyes, to be honest. She was a Desire Demon. You know how they are, what with their nipple tassels and their sexy goat horns. Now I'm stuck with this worthless little floating rock in the middle of nowhere. I've been thinking about selling it, but it's a down market and I don't know if I'm financially secure enough to risk investing in a new place just yet, you know?"
"Yeah, I hear you buddy." Said the man sympathetically. He considered putting a hand comfortingly on the demon's shoulder, but, after remembering the spikes all over the creature's body, decided against it.
The Demon Lord of Long-Winded Introductory Exposition and Casual Soul-Devouring flinched slightly, suddenly recalling the man's existence.
"What is your name, mortal?" He demanded.
The man grinned shyly.
"Err…I'm Alistair. Nice to, uh, meet you." He extended a hand.
The Demon Lord of Long-Winded Introductory Exposition and Casual Soul-Devouring stared at it. Alistair withdrew it and used it to scratch his head as nonchalantly as he could manage.
"What are you doing in my realm, Alistair? How did you get here?"
"Dunno, to be honest. The last thing I remember I was talking to my sister, Goldana. I was having dinner with her and her children." Alistair said, straining to remember the events that had gotten him where he was now.
Something about the Fade made it hard to focus, hard to remember what he was doing and why. It was like being drunk, but with a much higher chance of getting lost forever in an eternal nightmare and much lower chance of getting laid. Having a grotesque demon staring down on you like he was trying to set you on fire with his eyes didn't help his concentration, either. He shook his head vigorously to clear his mind and continued.
"But…that was just a dream, wasn't it? Created by the Sloth demon to trap me in the Fade forever? I was rescued from my nightmare by…by somebody… a close friend. They broke the creature's spell on me. Next thing I knew, the whole world was going blurry, and suddenly I found myself here."
"Oh, so you're from the Sloth demons realm, are you?" Said the Demon Lord of Long-Winded Introductory Exposition and Casu—
"Hey, is there something shorter I can call you?" Asked Alistair suddenly, and without any influence from an author who is tired of typing the Demon's really long name over and over again.
"My friends call me Belial." offered the Demon Lord of Long-Winded yada yada yada.
"Great then." Said Alistair. "Belial it is."
"Anyways, as I was saying: So you're from the Sloth Demon's realm, are you?" Said Belial, with blatant contempt. "He's always been a real prick to me, you know that? Used to pick on me back when we were in kindergarten. Knocked me off the swings every day at recess and he stole my crackers and milk at snack time."
"That bastard." Alistair cursed.
"Plus he got all the girls in high school, just because my horns hadn't grown in all the way yet and I had to have braces to fix my overly-prominent front fangs. Also, I may have talked with a lisp, but that's still no excuse. And now that were both fully grown demons, he's still got the better gig; he spends all his days trapping mortals in nightmares and trying to possess mages, and what do I get? A stupid floating rock in the middle of nowhere!" Belial fumed, clenching both of his fists tightly with mounting fury, his eyes a blazing conflagration of hate. He exhaled his rage in a long, drawn-out sigh, but the hate stayed in his eyes, cold and simmering. He turned and faced Alistair.
"But you know…if ol' Slothy were to have an accident—perhaps get slain by a powerful hero he had tried to imprison—his realm would be free game." Belial began to pace around slowly and deliberately. "I can sense power in you, mortal. I know what you are. I know what you can do."
"What do you mean?"
Belial turned and looked Alistair dead in the eyes.
"I know that you are a Templar; a hunter of mages and slayer of demons. I know that you are a Warden; one of the famous warriors who are empowered by the blood of what you call Darkspawn. I know that you have the blood of kings in you, if somewhat…diluted."
Alistair tried not to show the surprise on his face, but he found himself gripping the pommel of his sword a little tighter. How did Belial know that he was the illegitimate prince of Fereldan? Could he read minds? Could his apparent scatter-mindedness—his easily-distracted disposition—all be a clever ruse; a mask to hide the mind of a demonic master of guile and deception?
"I also know that your friend, the Warden, will need your help if she wants to defeat the Sloth demon." Belial persisted. "And, I happen to know which of these paths you should take if you want to make it back to her before the Sloth demon rips her head off."
He turned suddenly around, and started fiddling with something behind him. Alistair craned his neck to get a better view, and saw that Belial was rummaging through a rather large rectangular chest that had been hidden right behind him the entire time. It had floral patterns carved into the lid, as well as a poster taped below the keyhole (which was shaped like a heart) that displayed a slightly demonic-looking kitten perilously dangling from a branch over a swirling vortex of flames which ultimately lead to a pit of spikes and poisonous snakes. The caption below read 'Hang in there. Or else.'
Alistair decided that Belial probably wasn't a 'demonic master of guile and deception.'
"Ah ha!" the Demon Lord gasped, apparently finding what he was looking for. He then drug out of his chest a series of strange artifacts; a large black rectangle with a long cord coming out of its back end and a surface as smooth and reflective as crystal, a strange white box, and a wad of gray cords and strings of varying widths. The last thing he pulled out was a chair, which he then sat in after placing all the other strange and alien artifacts on the chest like it was a table.
"In addition to all that other stuff I know, I also know that it's been a long time—probably a two or three centuries— since I've just sat down, relaxed, and had some fun." Belial started up again as he unraveled an oddly shaped device that was covered in multicolored buttons. In the center of it there was a silver circle with a green 'X' on it. He pressed his thumb against it, and it began to glow. The white box and the black rectangle did the same, all coming to life.
"Sorcery." Alistair mumbled under his breath, his eyes wide. It never ceased to amaze him. It was deadly, but it could also be beautiful.
"It''s been nothing but work work work lately, and quite frankly I'm sick of it. So I think I'm entitled to a little break." Belial continued. "There's a new Elder Scrolls game out, you know?" He looked at Alistair as if he very well should know. "It's called Skyrim. I just bought it yesterday, but I haven't had the time to play it yet. However, I think I can find the time for it right about now. You just have to promise me that you won't sneak off down the third path to the left while I'm busy playing it. Wait until my break is over, and then me and you can finish our business. You comprehend, don't you mortal?"
Alistair grinned, finally understanding what the Demon Lord was getting at. "Oh of course. I'll wait right here for you until you finish your, err, game. You have my word."
"Good." Said the demon, whose attention was now firmly being held by the glowing black rectangle. Images of another world were displayed on its smooth crystalline surface, and now sounds were coming out of the thing as well. The white box hummed quietly, a green-yellow "X" glowing on it just like the device Belial held in his hands. Beautiful, thought Alistair again. Something about it just seemed…right.
"I'm glad we have an understanding. The other demons would torment me relentlessly if I allowed a mortal to kill my neighbor. But if I'm on break and therefore don't know anything about it…well, what can be done?"
"Of course." Alistair agreed, edging slowly toward the third path on the left.
"There is just one thing I must mention before I create my Orc warrior and begin a draconian genocide in the good ol' land of Skyrim." Belial warned, still not turning away from the mystical apparatus. "And that is this; you will be pursued. I don't know how long you'll have before it happens, but it will happen; no doubt about that. They will come for you. They will try to kill you. Consume you. Devour you."
"Who?" Alistair asked hesitantly. Belial tore his fiery eyes away from the screen, turned, and looked at him. It only lasted a second, but it made his heart skip a beat.
"The Nightmares." The Demon Lord hissed, almost in a whisper. "Your nightmares. The things that make your blood turn cold, that make the hair on the back of your neck stand up, that make your legs turn to jelly. The closer you get to escaping, the stronger they will become. They will hunt you down and they will swallow you up. They will drag you down to Nightmare Keep where your greatest fears will torment you for all eternity. It is inevitable. Unless…"
"Unless what?" Alistair insisted, gulping.
"Unless you find some assistance. Out there. In the Realm of Dreams." The demon's attention was now firmly on the screen again. "There are many lost souls out there, Alistair. Dreamers, spirits of the dead and dying, wayward magi. They are in peril. They are lost in a dream. As are you. If you can help them, if you can take upon yourself their burdens and have them take up yours, if you can share the weight that one cannot bear and carry each other the distance that neither of you can walk alone, then there is a small chance that you will make it out of the Realm of Dreams alive. Their companionship might be the only thing that stands between you and an eternity of nightmares. You have been warned mortal. Now be gone so that I might get back to my…err, important business." Belial finished, and began cycling through different facial hair options for his Orc warrior.
"Thank you for your help, Belial." Alistair said graciously, and he turned toward what he hoped was the path back home.
"Oh, and just one other thing." Said Belial suddenly. Alistair turned back.
"Yes?"
"I was just curious…"
"Uh huh?"
"If it weren't too much trouble, I was hoping…well, I mean I was wondering if I might, well, you know, maybe…devour your soul?" He was looking sheepish again.
"I'd prefer to keep my soul un-devoured, if that's all right with you, Belial." Alistair said sternly.
"Oh." Said Belial, looking disappointed. "You sure?"
"It's just that…well, you know, I've grown rather attached to it." Alistair insisted, feeling almost selfish.
"Fair enough. Fair enough. I understand completely." Belial sighed. "Well…err, good luck on your quest, I suppose."
"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. Good luck with your…err…Orc warrior, Belial."
"Thank you." Said Belial, sounding genuinely pleased, and then went back to his game.
And with that Alistair turned and began his journey down the third path to the left, into the mysterious, unknown reaches of the Realm of Dreams.