2. Ogden's Creche

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He awoke with a start, and slammed both palms against his glass prison. He was trapped in a sturdy translucent coffer, unable to move or breathe. He tried screaming for help, but no sound came from his mouth. As his vision focused, he noticed a deep fissure running down the crystalline slab before him, and a cool breeze that seeped through the crack.

With all of his feeble strength, he drove his shoulder into its weak point. On his fourth try, the left side finally gave way, toppling from the coffer and shattering against the ground with an explosive echo. The man covered his head against the reverberation. Every sound was overwhelming, and his skull pounded in painful harmony. Gradually, the echo faded, allowing him to finally gather his wits.

His eyes widened as he took in his surroundings. There were dozens of identical coffers lined upright against the walls, translucent and shimmering in the dim corridor. Pale figures lay within, frozen in peaceful sleep, all dressed in the same white burial garment. He too wore this simple cloth robe, and he studied the gold embroidering along its sleeves and hem, the faded color exposing its age.

The awakened man hugged the thin fabric to his emaciated body, suddenly realizing how cold it was. His breath created a fleeting haze every time he exhaled. He glanced around, as if searching for warmth, yet the corridor contained nothing but rows of coffers and some wall-mounted crystals, which gave off a heatless luminescence.

It was at that moment he noticed another light source — himself. No matter which way he turned, a faint glow fell before him, extending to about five paces. When he looked into the polished floor, the light flared back, and he fell over in astonishment.

It was coming from his face.

With a trembling hand, the man covered his forehead, and the illumination faded. Gathering his resolve, he finally touched the skin above his eyebrows and discovered a series of scars, like four incisions forming an x-shape. The pale light wavered as he traced its outline, making him more curious than alarmed.

A shiver reminded him of the frigid air, and he put aside the mystery of his mark in hopes of finding some decent clothing. He stumbled forward, feeling as though he had not walked in ages.

As he passed the crystalline caskets, he noticed many of their covers were also cracked, but their occupants remained asleep. Far above them, a web of fractures marred the otherwise seamless archways, as if a mighty tremor had nearly brought the whole structure down. A rising concern shadowed his thoughts, and the man wondered what manner of calamity had befallen this place.

Then, he came upon a curious sight. One of the ruptured coffers was empty, its glass seal scattered in pieces across the tiled floor. There was no way to tell how long it had been unoccupied, but it gave him hope, for there might be others who had awakened.

His hope quickly dissipated as a peculiar brilliance approached from another corridor, followed by a deep hum that shook his nerves. The noise instilled in him an instinctive urge to hide, and though the empty coffer was tempting, the man tucked himself between an occupied casket and a marble pillar. He curled in fear as the harsh glow drifted over the hall like a searchlight. When it fell upon the empty coffer, the hum intensified. He winced against its tormenting drone, but through squinted vision, he saw a massive figure floating overhead. Despite the pain, his eyes went wide as he beheld the divine presence.

The levitating being was made of exquisitely carved ivory, with crystal infused between the layers and joints. Its four arms and two legs ended in blunt points without hands or feet, and from its shoulder blades sprouted white tendrils similar to hair, or perhaps roots. Its smooth skull had no features, only a sunken hole in the middle of its face from which that revealing light emitted. Bars of silver encircled its hollow head like a cage, and crossed over its broad chest in an x-shape.

The man remembered little, but he knew enough to recognize the diagonal cross — a saltire, the holy symbol of Nos. This was an angel. He had never seen one before, though he had often dreamt of it.

Now that they were face to face, he was utterly terrified.

He averted his gaze as the towering creature passed over, the tiled floor vibrating in response. It scrutinized the broken casket with its gleaming socket, oblivious to his presence, and the man could not resist the chance to flee. He tried to sneak from his spot, but as he took his first steps, his bare feet squeaked against the marble.

At the slightest sound, the light swiveled towards him, casting a long shadow down the corridor. He did not bother to turn back. He simply ran.

The angel released a deafening roar. An intricate ring of light patterns encircled the man's waist, contracting in an instant. Suddenly, his legs felt as if they were frozen in place. Each step took tremendous effort, though he wore practically nothing, and he struggled to even walk. He finally dared to turn and saw the angel closing fast, its pointed legs never touching the floor.

The corridor seemed to have no end, and there was nowhere for him to hide. The encumbered man nearly fell to his knees in despair, but as his shadow drew ever closer in the approaching light, he discovered a miraculous salvation.

There was a hole in the wall.

Not wasting a moment, he dragged himself towards the triangular crack, just wide enough for him to slip through. As he escaped into the lightless tunnel, the angel bellowed again, and a powerful tremor shook the foundations. Chunks of marble and stone crumbled from above, but the man ignored them and pushed forward as the terrifying creature raged on in vain.

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The winding cavern went on for some time, but fortunately the angel's spell wore off in less than a minute, allowing him to move freely again. He traveled along the only path, ironically grateful for the odd light that shone from his skull, as it allowed him to see in the subterranean tunnel. He prayed it brought him to a safer place.

His prayers were interrupted as his foot touched nothing but air, and he tumbled through a hole in the ground. He somehow landed on both feet with a painful thud, cursing his inattention, then immediately froze as he realized he was not alone. Within the spacious cavern was a trio of humans, just like himself, even wearing identical clothing. His facial muscles struggled with joy as they remembered how to smile, and he approached the closest figure.

This one was hunched over facing the wall. He picked away at the grey stone, muttering softly to no one. He was so focused on his task that he did not notice the awakened man. It seemed as if he was trying to unearth the crystal veins with his bare fingers, leaving the nails rent and torn.

The sight of dark blood unnerved him, but the man gathered his resolve and laid a hand on the other's shoulder. The scratching immediately stopped. Then, the stranger turned to face him, revealing shriveled skin, sunken features, and a toothless mouth.

What truly frightened him, though, were the eyes that stared back colorless and vacant. This may have once been a man, but now, there was nothing left inside.

The withered figure lunged abruptly, causing him to stumble in surprise. He felt the bloody fingers tighten around his skull, and the man thrashed wildly in a pathetic defense, striking the cadaverous creature as it dug its thumbs into his eyes. The needles of pain that shot through his skull nearly drove him mad, and his jaw stretched into a silent scream.

He grasped frantically as panic took hold, until his fingers closed around a loose rock. He swung wide, striking the creature in the head with a sickening thud, and it released him as it crumpled to the ground. It dragged itself away, shrieks of pain spilling from its gaping maw.

The stone hung hesitantly over the man's head. He stared at the shriveled, cowering thing, and realized he felt nothing but pity for the poor wretch. Even as tears of blood dripped from his wounded eyes, he could not bring himself to loathe this miserable creature, much less end his existence. Finally, he lowered the rock and turned away.

He immediately leapt back as another vacant man slashed at him with a dagger. The gaunt figure charged with weapon raised, its crystal blade shimmering, and there were no more options. He had not the space nor time to flee, so he lunged forward with the rock extended.

He slammed the grey stone into his opponent's face, and blackened blood spurted from its collapsed nose. The sudden strike dazed the fiend, and he followed up by bludgeoning its sword-hand, causing it to drop the dagger. The blade skittered across the floor as the man dove after it, and felt his hand close around its crude stone hilt.

There was a gurgling screech behind him. He rolled onto his back with dagger raised, and the gaunt figure pounced wildly. It threw itself right onto the pointed tip, impaling its windpipe down to the man's fists. He was sickened as blood gushed from its nose, mouth, and throat alike, but even still, the persistent fiend clawed at his face, digging for his tender eyes.

He pushed back, and the dull knife slid along the creature's neck, tearing through muscles and jugular until it finally stopped struggling. Its arms wavered for a moment, then dropped as its life drained out. The man flinched away as he was covered in the thick goop, and felt like he would vomit.

It was not from the disgusting slime, nor its putrid smell, but from the fact that he had killed another. He had not only spilled their blood, but taken their very lives. This was the greatest sin against Nos, for now their cherished dreams would be lost forever.

His grieving was interrupted as the third wretch suddenly bit into his forehead. Though it had no teeth, its bony gums clamped down like a vice against his temple, and he reactively tore his blade free and stabbed it between the shoulder blades. The creature flailed against him, but its bite loosened, and he repeatedly drove the dagger down, even after it had ceased writhing.

He lost track of how long he huddled there, shivering in the cold, surrounded by corpses. The last creature ignored him and continued to cower, picking dismally at the crystal nodes without success. The man could not tear himself away from the bodies before him, unable to accept the truth of his sins. He had stolen these people's souls, ended their dreams forever. He was no longer innocent. He was a murderer.

He was a sinner. He had never sinned before, yet he had been forsaken from the Dream and forced into this nightmare. Was he being punished? What had he done to anger the benevolent Nos?

Eventually, his racing mind tired him out, and the man stared blankly at the bodies. As his eyes clouded with darkness, he suddenly noticed something else about their shriveled faces. There were four incisions in their foreheads, just like his, but they were lightless and covered with scabs.

Suddenly, his back went stiff in understanding. This is what he would become, unless he found a way to escape — a way back to the Dream.

He stood abruptly, vaguely realizing he still held the crystal dagger. He went to throw it away, but after a moment, changed his mind. He tore a strip of cloth from one of the corpses and used it to tie the weapon around his waist, praying he would not need to use it again. Then, he stumbled off into the winding tunnel.

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As he wandered through the cave, a peculiar sight greeted him. A frail hand extended from another crack in the wall, its wrist hanging limp in the air. The man assumed it belonged to a corpse and continued past, but suddenly, the fingers twitched, and a voice reached his chilled ears.

"Ah, who's that? Is someone there? Anyone?"

He froze. Through the narrow fissure, he spotted a pale face peering back at him. It was sunken and gaunt, but not withered away like the others, and the eyes still contained a glimmer of life. More so, his forehead shone with the same strange light as his own. The man stared in astonishment at the stranger, amazed to have found another living person.

"Heavens, you're not vacant? Thank Nos you kept your wits about you. I feared I would die alone, with no one to carry on my work... But now, there's a chance..." He coughed up droplets of bright blood, and the man suddenly understood his predicament. The other side of the wall had collapsed, burying the stranger in rubble up to his chest, pinning him against the floor.

"Forgive my manners," the stranger said, wiping his lips with his sleeve. "It's been some time since I last spoke with another. My name is Tensen. I came here to... to... Oh, it doesn't matter anyways. Everything's fading from memory, like a fleeting dream. I think... I fear I will soon end up like the others, nothing but an empty shell..." After a moment of silence, Tensen asked, "What is your name, friend?"

The man opened his mouth to reply, then remembered he could not speak. "Have you forgotten your name, as well? You poor thing." This was not entirely true, for the man knew his name, he just couldn't say it. Nevertheless, he nodded.

"Listen, friend. I've a favor to ask of you. I am not long for this waking world, and I have accepted my fate. I'm not afraid to die, but it pains me to think of all my hard work being left to rot in this forsaken cave. There is little hope for me, but please... take my book. Keep it safe, do not let its knowledge go forgotten. Will you do this for me?"

The man thought for a moment, the nodded again. Tensen sighed in relief as he reached behind him. "Bless you, friend. Truly, you have the soul of a saint." He procured a thick, leather-bound tome and slid it carefully between the crack. The man took it, then the scholar reached for another item. "I would give you my catalyst as well, in return for your generosity. It's a remarkable weapon, and I'm sure someone of your intellect can put it to good use."

With that, he slid a thin silver staff through the wall, and the man accepted it with eyes wide. It was intricately designed, crafted from smaller segments joined as one, with a clear quartz crystal embedded at the top. "That will come in handy should you encounter any vacants," Tensen explained, "though it will do little against the curator. Oh, and before I forget, it's not just a staff. If you—"

Suddenly, the entire cavern resonated with a mighty bellow, and the man covered his ears in agony. Tensen cried out, barely audible beneath the deafening sound, then the stones burst apart as he was violently dragged from the wall. A blinding light flared from the crack, but that too quickly disappeared. As the cave returned to near dark, the man shuddered, the staff clutched to his chest.

The angels had taken the stranger. They would take him as well, should they ever find him. With his new possessions, the man ran aimlessly through the cavern, desperate to escape this horrible place.

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After countless paces, he finally saw a light from above. Part of the cave's ceiling had collapsed, leaving a path of rubble to the opening. He carefully scaled the debris to find himself back in the hallways. This one held no caskets. Instead, great marble statues were displayed every few dozen feet, each one depicting some grand hero of legend. The man ignored them as he shuffled on. He could not remember their names or deeds, in any case.

Endless paths branched from the corridor, leading to even more intersections, until he became lost in the labyrinthine maze. While hesitating in the middle of four paths, he saw that fearful light drifting towards him again, and immediately dove for cover.

The ground vibrated as the angelic curator floated closer. This time, there was nowhere to hide. He wracked his brain for a solution, until finally a murky memory resurfaced. He recalled some long forgotten lessons, an exploration into the secrets of angelic magic, and realized he remembered a pair of novice spells. Despite their simplicity, they could prove useful.

He gripped the staff in both hands and desperately called upon the mystical energies that permeated this world. As he concentrated, the crystal tip of the staff echoed his thoughts, singing softly, and his bare feet became wreathed in cloudy auras. He stared in disbelief at his success, then stood without a sound. His shrouded soles would make no noise as long as the Lightfoot spell persisted.

However, that would not be enough to distract his pursuer, and the light was growing dangerously close. He quickly recited the second spell from his mind, and once more, the crystal resonated harmoniously. As it built to an audible pitch, he thrust the staff forward, and a loud echo sounded from the opposite hall, even though there was nothing there.

To his surprise and relief, the angel immediately pursued the noise, its tendrils wavering madly as it soared through the chill air. While it was distracted by his decoy spell, the man sprinted in the direction it had just come from, expecting to be illuminated at any moment by its condemning glare.

Fortunately, that moment never came, and he finally discovered a path that led to a large set of double doors. Not wasting a moment, he rushed towards them and heaved with all his might. The giant slab grated loudly against the floor, and the racket was sure to draw attention. He quickly slipped through the opening, entering a wide cubical area with an arched ceiling. It was nearly empty save for a small altar before him, which supported a simple glass basin filled with water.

He ignored it and moved towards the opposite side, where there was another set of doors. A stained-glass window sat far above, depicting a golden wheel with four spokes. This gateway was too heavy to open, but a mechanical lever sat to the side, which undoubtedly operated the thick bronze slabs.

As soon as he reached for the device, a strange haze surrounded him. He recoiled in surprise as the colorless fog coalesced around lever and door alike. When he tried to move the handle, it would not budge. He stepped back in alarm, realizing this was a trap, and turned to flee the room. However, the mist had already solidified within the exit, and the corridor was obscured from sight. He sprinted forward, attempting to push through the fog, but despite its gaseous form the haze would not yield.

Then, he felt vibrations beneath his feet, and his blood went cold. He retreated from the misty gate as the drone increased, then finally, the celestial curator floated through the haze uninhibited. It fixed its singular eye upon the mortal, and released a deafening shriek.

There was nowhere to hide, no more deceptions to save him. He was trapped.

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Appendix

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Aural Decoy — A spell taught to novice scholars. Creates a distracting noise from a distance, and is quite handy to those who wish to avoid a fight. Though the scholars of Falmour learned to manipulate sound long ago, they saw little potential in its use.

Lightfoot — A spell taught to novice scholars. Wreathes the caster's feet in shrouds of silence, allowing them to move undetected. Despite its name, this seemingly harmless spell draws influence from dark magic.

Quartz Dagger — A crude dagger crafted from quartz and stone. This colorless crystal is treasured by scholars for its unique properties, though its brittleness makes for a poor choice in melee weaponry.

Seal of Awakening — A peculiar seal etched into the foreheads of those who slumbered. It emits a soft glow, and inexplicably binds them to the eternal Dream. Only True Death may release the awakened, but who would wish to escape paradise?

Tensen's Journal — A leather-bound tome written by Tensen, an apprentice from Falmour. The secrets of the angels have been long sought by scholars, and many risked trespassing to discover them. However, few return to share their revelations.

Walk of Peace — A divine miracle that burdens the guilty, preventing them from fleeing. Sins weigh heavily on the soul, so why not the flesh as well?