(Terminus of Sacrosanct Part 2 of 2)

"Mate, slow down. You need to tell me what we're about to do." Adrian pleads, as I hear his uneven footsteps—he's obviously nervous.

"I told you that the illusion I placed you in most recently was a modern retelling. It was an old story… one that was centuries before you were conceived. My tools were stolen from me after I was summoned by a cult. The same cult who built the Balac-haine using my foci…" I explain, continuing to walk, hearing the faint sound of lapping waves.

"The orb…" The Magician surmises.

"Precisely. They committed me to the staff, forcing me to become a prisoner in my own realm, I cannot step into the mortal world physically, just as you are unable to touch The Fade." I can feel his confusion. He wonders what I really am. He want's nothing more than for me to be a simple demon or spirit, anything else threatens to destroy his mind. "This realm is not entirely disconnected from The Fade proper. It is adjacent—it's fundament is the same. Many dreamers pass through here as their minds venture to their final destination in The Fade." I turn, and he stops dead-on. He fears me, even his suave demeanor has been wiped clean here. "The Dreamworld, the Dreamtime, the Unconscious, The Sleeping Kingdom—call it what you will—is as much part of me as I am part of it. My breath is the brisk winds that blow on the highest peak of the Mountain of a Thousand Faces, the billows of my cape are the sand dunes of Despair's Expanse, my eyes the stars of the Eternity Reaches. I am no spirit, nor demon. Neither am I a mortal man, and never was I. Here, I am only sovereign."Adrian's eyes are wide he doesn't quite know how to proceed, his entire existence has been the structured education of human magicks, and bouncing from one demonic entity to the next—his reality his shaken. I give him a few more moments to respond and he only breathes, I take that as my que to turn back around and move along. "However, I digress… The task I require you for will be far closer to your realm of expertise than mine. We must deal with demons."

"A-and what would that be, squire?" He stutters out, his mind still moving slower than it needs to.

"We go to retrieve my helm."

"Well… I don't mean to i-impose—W-well…"

"What are you trying to tell me, Adrian?" I say, turning to him once more, having lost my patience with his blubbering.

"I—" he breathes, deeply. "I don't understand why you need me to help you get your helmet back—seems like someone as powerful as you would be able to do…"

I am… reluctant to answer him… I gain nothing by admitting my… weakness. "I do not need your help with anything. I simply see this as an opportunity to teach you something."

He nods his head, but not in the way that one does when they accept an answer. "…Okay, then what the fuck was with the… illusions you put me through—the tests."

"They had a purpose." I say simply, not obliging him more. I hear his feet shift quickly now. He places himself at my side and puts his hand on my chest, stopping my movement. "It is unwise to be so impertinent."

"Fuck! You made me live out entire lifetimes that were not my own. I watched a father I never had die before my eyes, I lived for hundreds of years just walking, not once even speaking to anyone. I met people I know in the real world. And… I had a wife… she's dead now… So… Why?"

I choose to disregard his brazen approach and address him respectfully—once. "I pulled from your memories to create the illusions you saw, implanting what I found necessary—it is you may have seen those familiar faces. As for your mentor, that 'memory' by the lake never happened—you were forbidden to leave the Tower, you should know this—it was simply a lie, pulled from ivory. All of it was necessary—I needed to see not your power, not your cunning—I already knew these things to be adequate—I needed to see your will. How much you could endure. I apologize that it had to be the way it was."

"Shit…" he whispers to himself, letting his stiff-arm fall to his side lazily, letting me continue to walk past, and the beach becomes visible.

For the first time in nearly a millennium—since I began to isolate myself—I dig my hand into the sand of the beach, sifting it through my fingers. Feeling each grain of it, inexhaustible. Unending. Like myself, and the few others of my… kind. Unending. The sand continues to pour out between my fingers, and never seems to stop, not unless I command it so. Even though I know the Laughing Magician—as he likes to call himself under his own breath in when he thinks no one can hear him—stands at my back, I feel alone tonight. I have always been solitary, but here on the Nightward Shores of Dream, loneliness washes over me in waves, lapping and pulling at my spirit, realizing just how little of those like me still remain. I walk through the night, along a jetty that extends from the shore my realm over a dark sea, which reflects the stars overhead. On second glance, it is a sea of stars. I sprinkle glistening sand into the waters of night. The grains burn as they fall, reminding me another in times long passed away. I watched Vengeful One even then as he fell from the heavens. His face undefeated, his eyes still proud. To this day, I can still hear his screams of agony and for want of retribution… It is time for Adrian and I to walk the abyss. Time to reclaim my own. I must talk to the Sunbearer… I must speak with my brother.

"So, what—exactly—do you want me to do? Twiddle my fingers and make your helmet reappear? Because that's not in my corner, pal." Adrian says flippantly.

"I want you to accompany me." I say rising from my kneel to face the smaller man.

"Where to?" He says, just beginning to regain his lost confidence in my presence.

"The Black City." I respond, my face unmoving and flat. I can see it in his mind, he wants to laugh at me for a moment but stops. He knows I am serious—he knows I do not tell a lie—and he feels himself ready to hurl at my feet, only just barely restraining himself.

"Mate, I don't know if you've heard, but humans entering the City hasn't exactly been a historically good idea."

"Physically, no. But it will not be your body that enters, merely your consciousness. Your presence there will bring no harm to your body or anyone else who remains in the Waking World."

He paces back and forth, not sure how to comprehend what I've told him. "S-so is this what all that testing was for? Was it?"

"Partly."

He chuckles in spite of himself and his circumstance. "'Partly', he says!" He rubs his face. "If this isn't it, then what was it all for?!"

I sigh, a long and grueling sigh, he just won't let it lie. "There is a small chance that an old adversary of yours might be present when we enter. Nergal. I am of the understanding that the two of you have history—"

"He killed Elaine! You've seen that much; I know you have!" He steps closer—almost irate—pointing his finger up at my face.

"Should we encounter him, you must not give into your hatred. That is why I needed to test your will. It will be painful… but you can endure."

I let him breathe, and after a few minutes of silence, he asks, his back turned to me. "So… how do we get there?"

I do not answer. I simply point my finger down at the waters of night. "Damn it all." He curses, not questioning the methods by which I transport us between the realms. I, however, know I am far weaker in the Fade, and I cannot even enter the mortal world—even here I am not at my full strength, not like in the days when I possessed all of my tools.

He steps to the end of the jetty and freezes; not confident he can make the journey. Exhausted by his indecision, I grab the Magician by the back of his leather coat and toss him down—I will meet him there…

I do not have high hopes for this meeting. I let my foot float off the dock for a moment before letting myself go. The wind that blows between the worlds chills me as I fall. Suppose I fail? I cannot bluff demons as I would mortals. But I have the Emerald. I have a modicum of power. And I have hope.

WARLOCKE

I land… and find myself alone and afraid upon emptiness in the Naked Space at the gates… of the Black City. The stench comes first before the sights. It is like flesh being roasted on charcoal and regurgitated bile being boiled in a thousand vats. The air is heavy and thick, leaving the scents to linger for far longer than they are welcome. I stand before I towering wall of tortured flesh and jagged, black metal and rock. Among the piled body parts that coat the guarding barrier, faces stare down at me cruelly contorted angles spikes driven through their eyes, their ears, even their mouths. They groan softly in their agonies, but their still-animate eyes watch me with interest… Above, is a sickly green sky. Beyond, through the great gates can be glimpsed a blackened morbid city, a post-industrial nightmare. To the right of the bloodied opening is a large gong, a solitary, unworldly eye gazing upon me from its center. I hear the screams of a falling man above me and reach out my hand and catch Adrian by his collar once more, just before he hits the ground. I set him down easily and let him look upon the Realm Infernal—The Black City. I walk over to the gong and make a balled fist, punching the dull metal disc. Its deep cry rings out in all directions, and I wait for the gatekeeper… all the while, the corpsesbegin speaking.

"There's one at the gate." One whispers, breaking its spine with a sickening series of cracks to view me.

"Whom dost approach?" Another asks, separating its head from feasting on another corpse that looked to be fused with the wall itself.

"Who ventures here?" One once more calls out for no reason at all, for he has no eyes left to see me with.

A head, with two metal spikes driven through its forehead calls out from atop the wall, its eyes not separating from us for a second. "Ah! Master! There's one at the door! Lord Squatterbloat! Master!"

A small, inhuman figure begins hobbling towards the gate and I can hear its vaguely humanoid speech. "There's one at the door, at the gate to damnation. Is it thief, thug, or whore? There's one at the door. And there's room for one more till the end of creation. There's one at the door. At the gate to damnation." The figure grabs hold of a large lever and pulls it down with all of its might, and the gates open…

On plain view, I see that the gatekeeper is a hunchbacked creature, perhaps four feet high. It scuttles upon two legs with clawed feet barely a head between its shoulders. Its good arm is tiny, with a feeble claw at one end. Its other arm is huge with skin like raw turkey. Its hand is a notched and battered carving knife. "Well?!" It questions hoarsely.

I draw myself up to my full height. No matter what fear I may feel I am the Lord of Dreams, a representative of my country on a diplomatic mission to this foreign land, I must treat it as such. "Greetings… Squatterbloat. I wish to talk to your master. Take me to him immediately."

It makes a sound that I am unsure if it is a laugh or the last breaths of a dying hog. "Oh yes, my clown. And who might you be?"

I take a deep breath, trying to temper my frustration… He is merely the gatekeep, nothing more. "I have many names. But I am the King of Dreams, once of the Nightmare Realms… I seek Lord Curifel. The current Lord of the Black City."

"A king? So where's your crown?" Asks the little demon.

"Some demon has stolen it. I have come to the City to get it back."

It laughs again in that hoarse, death-touched sort of way. "Oh yes, my clown. You're new in town. So where's your pouch?"

I lunge out at him and quickly grab his muzzle, lifting him in the air. I'd had enough his petty affronts. "I will take no insults from you, little demon! Guard your tongue! Curifel will not be kind to one who insults an honored guest—and I am a guest in this realm, as I am the monarch of my own." I throw the small demonic entity aside, sending him rolling and crashing into the wall behind myself and Adrian. After a couple of moments, it sits up and rubs its head.

"Back to your gate and duty, Squatterbloat! I'll take the Dream-Lord and his companion, play their guardian… For innocents abroad need guides of note—and who notes more than me…? …Than Altrian?!" The demon Altrian, huge—reptilian, with horns, tusks and webbed ears once numbered among the countless nameless hordes of demons that stalk the Fade. He is apparently no more. He drops, ape-like from a rocky outcrop.

"Altrian? Yes, I remember you. So you're a rhymer now? You've risen in the Fade's hierarchy, I see."

He nods, hunched as he is. "Things change." The demon points towards the path that leads to the City that lies just beyond. "This way." It says. "Things change… in the Mortal Realm and in The Fade… To rise among the fallen? Strange and true. But as things change, lord, they transmute as well… And if I've changed o' king, then what of you?"

I am hesitant to answer any of his questions, I am keenly aware to distrust demons, but I do anyway. "I have been… absent… for some time. But changed…? Perhaps." I hear the snap of a branch of a blackened tree from behind myself and the demon at my side. It is Adrian, and he stares at the tree that begins issuing forth blood from the break. A wispy voice begins floating around us from it. "…All too much. Catiline knew everything. So I had to… to protect my children… my legacy. Poison—sweet poison. Had to get out. Needed to retreat. Hurting. Hurting. I thought the hurting would stop…"

I hear Adrian curse something under his breath as he distances himself away from the tree. And we continue.

#

Sometime later, Altrian still leads us on the path to the castle that lies at the center of the City. We walk along a steep mountain path. Set into the rocky wall beside us are tiny cages. The naked, cramped occupants staring out, hands reaching for succor.

"Upon your right are souls entombed to pity… an ugly sight." Altrian says, pointing at the cages. I find the act of bringing us here curious—and I realize that if I feel such a thing—he must have an ulterior motive. Never trust a demon. He has hundreds of motives for anything he does, ninety-nine of them, at least, are malevolent. "Altrian-?"

"L'Zorill!" A weak voice rings out, disbelieving. The voice comes from a young, grey-skinned, horned woman, from a race of people from north who ceased to exist 4,000 years ago. Sealed into a cage, shards of razor-sharp glass set into its bars, she is muscular, but very beautiful, with spiral tattoos on her cheeks, her body decorated whorls and abstracts. Once, she was my lover. "L'Zorill!"

He drops to his knees at the bars to view her better. "Naala?!"

"L'Zorill…" 'L'Zorill' is an ancient name for me, as I do appear to people differently, according to their frame of reference. In Naala's eyes, I presume my chalk-white skin is a deep gray, with horns like a ram jutting out from the extremities of my forehead, curving back. A line is tattooed from my hairline, down to my right eye. My hair is still white, but is swept back between my horns, and my cheekbones are still set high, and my eyes still glow… star-made. "Dreamlord, I hoped one day you would come to me. Free me, my love, please." She pleads.

"Altrian… why did you bring me here?" I ask the demon with a cutting anger in the undertones of my voice. I know this was no accident, he wanted me to see this, for Adrian to see this—to see me weakened, to distract he and I from our goal.

"L'Zorill…!" She calls out, her voice growing unsteady, its sturdiness weakened by the tears welling in her amber eyes. She notices that I am averse to looking upon her—I don't want to see it.

"I greet you—Naala." My own voice begins to shiver, as I gaze upon her pitiful form. It hurts to speak to her. "It… pains me to see you like this."

"L'Zorill. Free me, my lord! You ordered my confined here, your forgiveness can free me. I implore you!" Tears begin falling on her grey-skinned face, as she grabs hold of the glass-encrusted bars, heedless of the pain. Blood runs freely down the rust. She gazes back up into my eyes, with warm tears filling her own amber orbs. "Don't you love me?!"

I kneel on one leg as she reaches for my succor. I take her bloodied hands into mine, paying no mind to the staining. "It has been four-thousand years, Naala…" I pause, the pain, for but a moment, overwhelming me. But I know my goal, I know what I must do. But, in the knowing, it does not diminish the pain. "…Yes. I still love you." I rise from my kneel, pulling my hands away softly, her fingers twitching and grasping at the air, helpless. I close my eyes—and I turn away. "But I have not yet forgiven you."

"Now, onward to the City! Hahahahaha!" Altrian's voice breaks-in as he laughs deeply.

I move with him… as does Adrian, following suit, he does not know what to think. He simply does not know… and perhaps it would be better left alone. He decides it is, and doesn't ask for the time being."L'Zorill…" Naala calls out weakly, pitifully, sobbing behind us, but I just keep walking. "L'Zorill…"

We do not talk for the rest of the journey to The Black City.

#

Song Choice: The Devil – Rok Nardin

At last, a great structure looms overhead. The winding paths over sulfurous pits of glowing molten rock leading them upward to its crenulated spires. There are stained-glass windows but the staining is of blood, and excrement. There are buttresses of naked, suppurating flesh, outcroppings of teeth, clumps of bodies hanging from gargoyles, melted flesh dripping down its immense walls. All the while… the bells toll. Within its perimeter, ever more desperate demons strive to find pleasure in ever stranger acts of lust and cruelty, a frustrated and dead carnality. I pause before its hulking mass. Curifel's Palace. It too has… changed. It echoes with loss and pain. The last time I came to this… place, it was as an honored guest, an envoy from my own Kingdom.

"Come! Come!" Altrian waves at me, Adrian already standing with the demon, waiting.

This time… I lack power. I lack my symbols of office. But I am still a god and the doors of the palace open for me. We travel to the summit, past vasty halls that echo of screams and grunts and sighs and dust. We pass the throne room that sits empty. We travel-up stairs that run with sweet blood… Altrian pushes aside the heavy, ornately engraved metal doors. At the top of his mansion, at the balcony overlooking his domain… he waits for us. Alone. Curifel… once my brother in a different age, his physical form completely undone, his essence fused with a powerful spirit whose name has long been lost to time. Now, he is imprisoned here forever, not even able to possess a mortal host. Once… my brother's name was Elgar'nan, as he was known to the elves of this cycle. No longer. The being who stands before us now is neither god nor spirit nor demon… nor anything in between, except for a ruler. Elgar'nan is long dead now…

"Greetings to you, Curifel." I speak up from behind him, making my own presence known to him.

"Hello. Hello Somniar." Curifel's face is beautiful, sad, pitying, loving, grave. It is a face that has your best interests at heart. You must know that… His face and body seem almost completely mortal, except for the massive wings attached to his back. His hair is a fiery red with deep blue eyes. He stands a good nine feet tall, with wings emerging from his back. The wings are leathery, bat-like, horned, and disgusting. He flaps them, unconsciously, I presume. A primal gesture, like an animal making itself appear larger than it is in the company of its equals. "Altrian, please leave us." Curifel commands softly, his voice deceptively shallow. I glance back at Adrian, and he stares down the Lord of the Black City cautiously, but ready to follow my every word. Not daring to step away from my protection… he realizes he is entirely out of his depth even with his shadow-magic.

"My liege…" Altrian bids shutting the door behind himself.

Curifel walks over, in his white attire, and in bare feet, sitting on the couch he had placed off to the right end of his room, crossing his legs as he did so. I choose to stay standing. "We hear you were caught by mortals. Like a newly-fledged demon, sweet Somniar… We expected better of you." Says Curifel, referring to himself in the plural. Some part of him recognizes that he is not just one entity, he is many-souled, and he knows it, referring to himself as, 'we'.

"That was over two-thousand years ago, Curifel. I would have expected you to be better informed."

He laughs, but does not engage the jab. "Still, you're here now." The Lord says with a charming smile. "Have you come to join forces? To ally your Dream-Realm to ours? To acknowledge the sovereignty of The Fade?"

"You know my views on that, Sunbearer." I respond stone-like, dismissing the argument before it had begun.

He chuckles comfortably, knowing full well that my anger buys him no advantage-he in is complete control here. "Yes… yes we do." He deflects, no doubt in an attempt to improve as our host. "Your family are well, I trust? Falon'din, Sylaise, Ghilan'nain, and the others?" 'Your family', he says, the other part of his melded soul never daring to allow him to associate with his real family. But it was his bargain… the bargain to save himself… He is no captive… it was his own fault. "No matter. We assume this is no social call… What do you want?"

"My helm was… stolen from me. I believe one of your demons has it. I would like it back. Now." I state my purpose, and, as expected, he only smiles.

"Ah, if it were only that easy. Things have changed in The Fade since you were last here…" He trails, walking to the threshold of his balcony. I grow suspicious of him, I first think he tells a lie, but… even as… whatever he is now, he was never one to tell a lie. And so, I am lost.

"Things have changed? What are you trying to tell me, Curifel? That you no longer rule The Black City? That the demons no longer follow your rule?" I say, with a small, easy smile on my face, knowing that, in some small part, I am right. "Things do not change that much Proud One."

A voice emerges from the right-side corridor of the room, shadowed and not quite formed in the green light. "Ah, but they do, Oneirus. Curifel is indeed no longer sole monarch of these nether regions."

Adrian shoots up from his place on the red velvet décor lounge chair. Drawing from the energy of the shadows he manifests a sword of shadow, pointing it in the direction of our newest arrival. The lower half of the demon's body is black and grey-scaled and serpent-like, his upper half is comprised to appear humanoid, bulky, and muscular, but still scaled and black. His eyes are a deep, blood red, and his head is adorned with horns that emerge from his temples and shoot upwards. He could be none-other than Nergal.

"This is our co-monarch, Nergal." This demon, once duke of the ruined city of Eckron, in Felissia, became chief of the nine hierarchies of The Fade.

"We have met." I say simply as I see Adrian begin to step forth in his direction, only a hair away from a full charge at the demon. I grab hold of him tightly.

"Adrian! That's enough. We are here on business… restrain yourself."

"Adrian? Why so hostile? I thought us good friends, didn't you?" Nergal says, clearly goading him on.

"Let me go you cotton-headed bastard!" he struggles against me, in vain. "You—you killed her you fuck! I should cut your head off and throw it into the lovely shit-pits you've got downstairs!" He tries his ever-best to shove me off. "Shit! I can kill him! Right now!"

"Oh, don't say that Konstantyne. I admire your intelligence far too much for it." Nergal once more jabs, with a smile that is filled with rows of razor-sharp teeth.

"Adrian! Enough of your blustering, I will hear no more of it. Cease."

Adrian tries once more to shove me away, and fails, letting himself breathe. He would get his chance… one day. But that day was not today. It was clear to me now… the doom-drum beats loudly for these two—demandingly. Fate would one day find these two on the same battlefield, that much was certain.

He lets his sword turn back into intangible shadow and continues to stand at my side, keeping his eyes trained on Nergal's every movement.

"So, you spoke the truth, proud Duke of Eckron. The Fade is now a duumvirate." I say, nodding my head at the newly-arrived demon.

At my words, however, Nergal nearly laughs. "No, no… it's a triumvirate."

"Three kings in darkness!" A voice like ringing metal emerges from the left corridor of the room. "I am Xarxes. Welcome Dream-King…"

"Xarxes, welcome." Curifel says easily, not at all bothered by what he's seeing. Much in contrast to Adrian, who seems, for the first time, genuinely horrified.

"The… third lord of The Fade?" I question, sounding almost confused.

"I am he…" Xarxes responds, his voice echoing and quaking off the metal columns of the walls. Though he was… indistinct, I could still tell he was a demon. Xarxes hovers, a floating absence, a black amoebic nothingness filled with myriad eyes, teeth, and mouths. His form is like black, star-filled, broken glass, with sharp eyes and serrated teeth and horrible mouths, suspended in time and space. He is Eldritch Incarnate.

Curifel kindly takes this opportunity to inform us of the reason for so many lords. "Some years ago, the Dark, a shadow creature accompanied by an army of shadow-demons came forth to challenge The City."

"I know nothing of it. I have been isolated." I reply, turning my head from the perplexing Xarxes back to Curifel.

He sighs to himself. "The episode ended in… um… well perhaps a stalemate." He smiles and chuckles to himself at his own choice of words. "But the civil war in The Fade that ensued tipped the precarious balance of power. We rule in coalition now: Xarxes, Nergal, and I." He opens his arms to the two other demons who stand at his right and left sides, respectfully.

"The Fade a triumvirate? Things change indeed. Very well, I seek a demon who has stolen my helm of office. I wish it back." I once more state my reason for being here to all three lords.

"Which demon, then? Name it and we will bring it here." Nergal orders first, as I feared.

"There are more than a million demons, after all." Xarxes adds.

My head tilts down ever-so-slightly, I am unsure. "I do not know the demon's name."

The senior of the three clicks his tongue. "Then let us summon all of them to tell, and meet them on the vastly plains of The Fade!" Curifel says excitedly, and the five of us displaced away. Teleported.

#

The 'physical' manifestation of The Fade encompasses a landscape as varied as its spiritual and demonic inhabitants. There are mountains. Ice caves, swamps of lava, rivers of blood, and deserts where fire rains upon the damned. There are plains of ice, snow, and blasting winds that carry shards of glass on their currents. This wide, flat, rocky wilderness is where Curifel has assembled his unspeakable cohort of demonry. From a promontory of rock where Curifel, Xarxes and Nergal have brought the two of us, I survey over a million corrupted spirits, living nightmares only glimpsed in my Realm of Dreams. Among them are demons of Desire, Pride, Fear, Greed, Terror, Despair, Envy, Sloth, Hunger, Rage, and Remorse. There are cambions, familiars and shades. There are demons of fate, tempters, false spirits, and vessels of iniquity. There are nameless ones, and there are demons who formed on the First Day. Some are repulsive to gaze upon, some are comely… none can be trusted.

Cruifel wrenches his neck in a circular motion. "Ah… There. Now, Dream-King… tell us… which demon has your helmet?"

I look at the demons. Some I recognize as ancient nightmares of my own creation. Others have even made their way to my dreamworld in the past. But there are so many… "One of you has my helm; my Mask of Pure Dream. I crafted it myself from the metal bones of a dead god. It is one of my tools… Well?"

Curifel laughs lowly to himself, amused at my vexation. "None will admit it…"

"Then I must find another way." I say, kneeling down to procure a handful of dust from the rock on which the five of us stand. I blow the dust from my outstretched palm. It blows up over the assembled horde like smoke, then it swirls and coalesces into a cyclone, arrowing down into the mob which draws away… leaving a single figure standing alone. The figure is human in its disposition of body and limbs but the head is adorned with horns and the ears… pointed with purple skin to match. It is a demon of Desire which has chosen the appearance of a male. It hisses at me.

"That one." I point out to Curifel.

"Choronzon!" He lowers his voice and tilts his head to his immediate compony. "A duke of The Fade, one of Nergal's." He turns his attention back to the shivering demon. "Well, Choronzon? Does Somniar speak truly? Do you indeed have his mask of office?"

The demon's long tongue makes a shrill hiss back at his accuser. "Ssss. What if I have?!"

Curifel's expression darkens, he will not tolerate such insolence in his realm. "You may not speak to us that way, Choronzon." He reprimands, with deceptive softness. "Have you… the helmet?"

"…Yes, Lords…"

"Return it to me. Now." I command, reentering into the conversation.

It chooses to hiss at me again, it does not fear me in the way it fears Curifel. "Ssss. I traded it, from a mortal for a paltry thing, but it was a fair trade! She asked the protection of the Duke of Eckron."

"You bargained with a mortal in Nergal's name?!" I question, nearly dumbfounded that such an ordinary-looking demon could swindle her that much.

"Choronzon is one of my captains." Nergal adds, lending credence.

"But it was a fair trade! I have broken none of the laws!"

"You have my helm!" I say desperately, feeling as if my claim could be completely eradicated by this small demon's testimony.

He hisses back, frustrated and nervous. "Ssss. If you want your precious back then you must fight me for it. Sss. Do I hear a challenge?"

A challenge? I do not know if I'm strong enough to prevail. I truly do not know. Adrian would be far better suited to this but… this is my burden to bear. I've come so far, and I have so much to rebuild… I must. "Very well. Yes, I challenge you, Choronzon."

"Sss. Sso, as the challenged one, I choose the battlefield. I assert… reality."

#

Song Choice: Conquest of Paradise – Vangelis

The demonic realm of green skies and heavy air is whisked away. Immediately replaced by something equally disturbing. I find myself seated at a table in a damp basement. It is an inn, set into the cobbled-stone walls is alcove seating. There is a bar at one side a low wooden stage at the front, and other small round tables at the floor of the performance club with drinks on them. Around us, suited male, and finely dressed female demons of all fashions, await their evening's entertainment. Many are grotesque parodies of humankind. Others are simply monstrous. Among them, Curifel, Nergal, Xarxes, and Adrian, whose expression is confused and in some small way, delighted to be back in an atmosphere he knows so well. One patron calmly picks the flesh his partners face and eats it, her acquiescent, loving expression is slowly reduced to a raw, bleeding skull.

"Welcome! One and all, to another thrill-packed evening of funfunfun! Here, at the 'World's End Club'…" it feels like a bad joke. And like everything else in the Black City… it's deadly serious. "I'm your host, Choronzon, high duke of the eighth circle, captain of the horde of Lord Nergal! Tonight, for your entertainment and—sss-delectation… A formal challenge." It has been long since I have been forced to play such games with demons. I rise, slowly, approaching the stage when Adrian grabs my arm.

"I've got no clue what this is, mate. But if you've gotta outwit a demon, I'm your best bet. Let me do this." He lowers his voice, so as to avoid Nergal's immediate dissatisfaction. "Let me stick-it to that ponce at least once while I can."

I shake my head silently at him, and Nergal interjects. "The Dream-King is the challenger, Adrian, not you. You may not fight on his behalf."

I continue my approach to the stage, hearing Adrian swear frustratedly under his breath. "As the challenged, I set the meter and take the first move. And the challenger is Oneirus. Once the master of the realm of sleep. So let's have a big hand for Somniar Moon-and-Star!" A cheer erupts from the patrons as I step on stage. Choronzon leans in close to me to whisper something in my ear. "Ssso… you know the rules Dreamlord? If you win, I will return your helmet. If you lose, you will ssserve as a plaything of the torture chambers for eternity. Our ssslave…"

I take a sharp breath inward. "I understand."

The demon nods. "Very well. I have the first move…" He waves his hands and fingers and magical energy abounds. "I am a wolf, prey-stalking, lethal prowler." A ghostly, shadow-play wolf pads around me on the stage, I see it, and still smell alcohol, stale smoke, and cheap sex. Perfume and mold.

"My move… I am a hunter, horse mounted, wolf-stabbing." I say to the audience loud enough so they can hear. I hear the horn of a rider, and an illusory horse with a man mounted on top of it appears and stabs the growling wolf with his spear, killing it. I can feel as it feels. I can feel the grass beneath its hooves… my hooves, the flanks between my legs. All is real. Nothing is real. And it is Choronzon's move.

"I am a horsefly, horse-stinging, hunter-throwing." The demon says, reciting his unwritten incantation, as the ghostly bug stings the horse, bucking the rider off promptly. I feel every tinge of the sting, every nerve of mine screams from the toss and fall. There are many ways to lose the oldest game. Failure of nerve, hesitation… being unable to shift into a defensive shape. Lack of imagination. I grunt from the pain… and I continue… I must think quickly.

"I am a spider, fly consuming, eight-legged." I counter, as the illusory almost completely transparent spider quickly created a web, trapping the horsefly and happily consuming it.'

"I am a ssssnake, ssspider devouring, venom-toothed." Choronzon responds, as the clever-craft serpent slithers up my leg and body to eat the spider in its web.

"I am an ox, snake-crushing, heavy-footed." I feel the snake writhe beneath my hoof, it's spine crushed.

Choronzon's expression tightens from the pain. "I am anthrax! Butcher's disease, warm-life destroying…"

All in one fell swoop the fake ox begins to choke and blood flows from its mouth, it stumbles and collapses, dead. A change in direction, but still an old gambit. "I think…" For a moment, I am distracted by a demon who approaches the table where Adrian sits, I know this demon from Adrian's memories—he is Beroul, fat, and fleshy. He begins yelling at the human, before Curifel demands that he leave them be, calmer than one would expect. Beroul nods, expressionless, and leaves his grievances with the Magician there. I spot what looks like child approaching the same table, holding a pewter tray of dainties, human organs and genitalia from which the Arch-Duke of Eckron selects, then eats. Then I see there are bottles behind the bar. I glimpse labels saying, 'Old Tevinter Souls', 'Lymphatic Fluid', 'Waters of Unmindfulness'. I reconcentrate myself… I think I understand how Choronzon plays. How I can turn it against him. I must abandon the offensive… "I am a world, space floating, life nurturing." An illusion of a planet forms beside my head.

Curifel's glass pauses on its journey to his lips. The stolen helmet, a badge of office for the Lord of Dreams, is of no use in The Black City… not anymore, merely an artifact of a bygone age. But it served to lure a weakened Somniar here. Into a game of riddles, and was, until this moment, the best chance of trapping him in The Fade.

"I am a NOVA! All exploding…!" He bundles his fist. An image of a star collapses before us, burning away any sign of the former world. "…Planet cremating…!" He smiles confidently, sure he is the winning party.

My face stays imperceptible. "I am a Universe—all things encompassing, all life embracing." A cheer from the audience follows as the trillions upon trillions of illusory star form on the stage.

"I am Anti-Existence! The Beast of Judgement! I am the shadowy dark at the end of everything. The end of universes, gods, worlds… of everything…" A gasp and a roaring applause ring out for Choronzon's master play. Curifel, Nergal, and Xarxes cheer as well, a smile on Curifel's face. Adrian, looks down… disappointed. He knows I've lost. But it's still my move. With a cocky grin, sure as anything that he has won the game, Choronzon looks over to me for my reaction, which is purposefully not telling. "Sss. And what will you be then, Dreamlord?"

I lift my head to look at him with stone-cold, star-like eyes, and reply simply… "I am hope." And Oneirus, the Lord of Dreams tells Choronzon what… he… is…. The one thing that The Black City cannot kill or destroy. The one thing that they'd all forgot. "I am hope."

His eyes go wide, but quickly reset. "Oh… well then I am… sss… I…" His head tilts down. He's out of ideas. "I… don't know." He looks around at the audience's gaping mouths, realizing he's just lost. Curifel's expression begins to darken once more, as he shatters the glass in his hand. Nergal is shocked, and Xarxes is expectedly emotionless. "I DON'T KNOW!"

We are once more transported away by Curifel. The inn is gone, the plain of The Fade, with all its demons, surround the five of us once more. Curifel steps forward, glaring down at the cowering figure of Choronzon. His eyes have shifted from their ocean blue into a color like ember and brimstone. And it was at this moment that I could see some resemblance to my old brother in him.

"Where are the twins? Where are Agony and Ecstasy?" He inquires, heaving deep breaths of barely-contained frustration. Two demons appear before us, bound together in spiked metal wire. They are Agony and Ecstasy, the slave twins… Said to have been born from the womb of a demon of Desire, they were always inseparable in youth. Now? More so…

"We hear and obey, Lord." The two say in unison.

Curifel's eyes darken an even deeper shade of red. "Take this… pathetic creature… from our sight. Demonstrate to him… our displeasure." I glance away and to Adrian and see him shiver at Lord Curifel's words. The self-proclaimed Demon-Killer is out of his depth.

"N-no not thisss! King Nergal, liege lord—protect me! Please…!" The twins bind Choronzon in spiked metal wire and bear him away.

"And it is over." I say with relief and tension lifted from my shoulders.

The demon-lord Nergal summons the helm into his ebony clawed hands. "Hmph. Here Dream-Master. This is your helmet. You have won it. Fairly. Take it."

I take the helmet into my hand and rest it at my side. "The kings of the Fade are honorable, I will remember this."

With a surprised chuckle and devious smile, Curifel responds to the compliment. "Honorable? You joke, surely. Look around you, Somniar." The senior king of The Fade gestures his arms wide from his body, drawing my vision to the ground below us, nary a speck of clear land can be seen between the seemingly endless assembly of demons, huddled shoulder to shoulder, stretching as far as one can see. "The million lords of The Fade stand arrayed about you." Adrian begins to shift uneasily, his head snapping from one side to the other, anticipating an ambush. "Tell us… why we should let you leave. Helmet or no, you have no power here, not anymore—What power have dreams in The Black City? Elsewhere in The Fade to be sure, but not here."

I nod calmly, not at all worried about the countless demons who froth at the mouth for combat against the Lord of Dreams. "You say I have no power? Perhaps you speak truly… But-you say dreams have no power here? Tell me, Curifel Sunbearer…" I gesture out to the horde beyond us. "Ask yourselves, all of you… What power would any of you have if those you imprisoned were not able to dream, of Heaven?"

Reluctantly, the Three Kings shift aside. Silently, I begin walking off, past the them, Adrian following closely in my footsteps. The demons part for us as we approach… none able to meet my gaze. And walking steadily, my helm by my side, I take my leave of The Fade. My hopes fulfilled.

Unknowingly to the two of them, Curifel stares them down. "One day my brothers… One day… I shall destroy him." He chuckles to himself and flaps his great wings, flying back up to his castle.

#

An hour later, we walk back through the gates of the City. Squatterbloat noticeably more silent and less crass than before.

"That was… pretty badass what you did back there, cotton-head." Adrian says, actually giving a genuine compliment.

"Did you learn something?" I reply, preparing the spell to bridge the gap between the world. Though I begin to feel weak.

"I… think so. But I'll need to wake up and write this down, first thing, before I forget it all." He says. "By the way, can I wake up now?"

"Not yet. We must return to The Sleeping Kingdom first." I answer, conjuring the door back home. Gesturing for him to enter first. "I insist." We walk through and I quickly realize something is wrong. "This is… not home."

"Where'd you bring us…?" Adrian questions concernedly.

"This is one of the Soft Places." I reply, growing more concerned by the second.

"…Okay? Forgive me if I'm not an expert on dimensional travel."

"The Soft Places are the borderlines between worlds. It means we could very likely be stuck." I look around and we are sat in a desolate desert, not so dissimilar to the illusion I placed on Adrian not so long ago. I try to summon another doorway out and I cannot at first. My heart sinks. It was a stupid, careless mistake.

"So what? After all that we're stuck here?!" Adrian says, flouncing about, tossing some sand in the air. I stay still. "Am I just going to remain a motionless spud in the real world?!"

"No…" I've made my decision. "That—what I did in The Fade took much power from my already weakened self. I cannot summon a door back to The Sleeping Kingdom for the both of us. I can however create a doorway back to the Waking World for you. And you alone…"

"I—what'll happen to you?" Adrian asks with concern in his voice out of respect, but I already know his choice.

"I do not know… I will have to find a way out and back to my Kingdom, it still requires a ruler." I stare about myself, seeing nothing but more sand.

"…Go ahead…." He says, his head hanging, seeing no other logical way out.

I use up the last of my magical energy to create a door for him to walk through. My straining hurries him, but before he steps full through, he gives one last remorseful look back at me, before the door shuts behind him, "Take care of yourself, chum…" And I let go.

I stumble a bit, almost losing my balance. "To home, then." I say, taking my first steps in the desert for what is sure to be a long journey.