I am reaching for something, or maybe someone. My hands trace against the form of something warm and my heart thuds. I fumble with a metallic surface with sticky hands that make it harder to pick the lock that holds this person captive. I see, out of both weakness and the sweat that pours over my eyes, nothing but smudges. My body is sticky with this same fluid, and, with every twitch of my fingers I feel like I am going to heave out of pure exhaustion. The scent of urine and the dank humidity of the basement I have been trapped in for three weeks assaults my senses constantly. Even with all of this, I manage to release the cuffs that hold her.

“Lets go! Quick!” I hear her feminine voice urge as she pulls from her shackles and stands, tugging on my shoulder.

My own voice comes out, raspy, as my muscles strain and the adrenaline shakes through me.

“Go. Get help. You won’t make it out if you take me. I can't even move right now.”

I feel myself slumping against the wall and me neck drop back, unable to keep the weight of my head up. I watch as the blur hesitates, the smudge of her blonde hair and the faint shape of her abused body causes my heart to beat faster.

“Hurry, love.” I urge.

“Wait for me.” She whispers to me, squeezing my shoulder softly and kissing my forehead, a kiss that, through the numbness, I can still feel on me even as she turns and runs for the door. 

I slide down the wall until I am laying on my back. I feel like I am in the bottom of the creek, the rushing of the rapids sound in my ears as I try to see the space above the chaos of each section of water. Through the rushing I can see something, someone, but every time I blink the blurs just get darker. Before I know it I can see everything around me once more, including myself. As I stand above my own body, looking down, the blonde woman that made my heart heavy is being pulled away from me by paramedics that have invaded to basement. Police are becoming novelists around me, writing the details of the body I had just inhabited, the death. Or, at least, I think it is my death. A single detail of the room circles in my mind, the blood etched wings on the opposite sides of a triangle, encompassing a half moon and sun in the center.


X



I awake from the vision that I cannot determine as a dream or reality. The blurriness of my sight and hearing seem have transferred to nausea in my head. Where am I? I think as I sit up. My side breaks into a deep feeling that is for a moment unfamiliar. Then, as though I am remembering, I know it is pain. When I place my shaking hand over it, I feel the same stickiness as the vision I just came out of. I cough, blood spurting from my lungs and into the hands that I placed before my lips. I sit for a moment, trying to regulate my breathing as I think. The only thing that I seem to remember is the vision. I know what everything around me is. I know what the trees are, the rocks beneath my body, the colors, the blood pouring over my clean clothes. I know that the silence here is unnatural, that birds around me should be chirping. I know that there stillness if also something that is out of place. But who am I?

I am in the middle of what appears to be a forest. Leafless trees line the edges of my sight. The fog wavers in the air, causing whatever sunlight there should be to be faded and gray. For some reason this seems to be a dire omen, and I know that something is not correct here. I use a tree near me to prop myself up, and stand. My hand on my side instantly jerks as thick blood oozes from my irritated wound. I try to apply pressure. As I breathe in, dust particles assault my lungs, what I thought was fog seems thicker, more suffocating. I bend over myself, holding my side, and try take shallow breaths. After a while, I have regulated my breathing enough for me to be able to move around a bit more. Once I can look around, I see a thick line of rock and cobblestone in between the trees to my left. I push off the trunk supporting me, and stumble toward the pathway, hoping to find some way back to civilization from following it.

Rushed steps sound over the earth, pounding toward me as I step onto the cobble path. As if by some natural urge, I leap to the side of the trail and scramble behind bushes. The wind picks up as people run past me on the path, fleeing from something with a deep look of panic on each of their faces. Some are injured, others smeared with dirt and sweat, most look like they were from some business firm, with their fancy suits and dresses muddled and torn. On each of their faces, there is some rag or torn cloth to protect them from the dust. After the initial group of close to five people there is a woman. Her hair is sticking every which way and her clothing reflects that of a suburban mother, expensive brand name product jeans and the bulge of a smart phone in her pocket. She doesn't have anything covering her mouth and nose.

The woman has fallen behind the rest of her group, her footfalls heavy as she coughs and splutters from the heavy intake of dust. In her arms is a young child, one that was probably in preschool. For some reason, no one looks back to her, no one aids her. No one even appears to care about anyone other than themselves. Just as I am about to step out of the bush and offer whatever help I can, she is knocked to the ground. She didn't trip, I know immediately because of the way that she fell. It was as if something extremely heavy had latched onto her back. Every part of me screams to run as the woman’s back is ripped open, her eyes become empty as the wind rushes to my ears and her ribbon torn clothing is thrown everywhere. I hear a yowling as if some demon is screeching nearby, but it is so faint that no one would think it so. One part of me seems to be completely calm, ready to flee at any moment, not out of fear, but out of the solid fact that, in this state, I cannot win. It is as if I had fully assessed this situation as a flight without knowing what was going on. Another part of me, however, is frozen in place.

What is this? It screams in my head as that part of me tries to comprehend the scene before it.

As I take a step away I hear the child wailing. “Mommy!”

I know that there is nothing I can do if I stay. I would die with the child if I tried to intervene. I stumble from tree to tree away from the scene, keeping my steps as quiet as possible. After a brief moment, all of the sound in the forest has ceased, the wind and every sign of life is absent, including that of humans. A moment later, I hear the rest of the groups brief screaming, then the dead silence resumes. I feel like I am standing in a graveyard that not even the crows dare to tread.

When I get far enough away from that area, and the dust in the air has faded a little. I lay on my back, clutching my side as my body shakes from shock. I close my eyes, and relax, trying to calm my breathing once again. The blood still pours from my body as I lay there, trying to get a grasp of the situation. I have almost gotten my breathing to normal when the wind begins to whisper in my ears once more. I hear heavy footsteps close, as if they appeared from nowhere.

“What news do you have, Cleanser.” A chilling voice echoes around me as twigs snap in the opposite direction of the voice. I shuffle towards a bush as the other moves closer.

“My God,” The other voice speaks as he stops. “The trio is broken. The Red and the Blue have completely vanished from communications. We fear that you were correct. It is a direct betrayal.”

“So this is his plan! She betrayed me! They both have…” The voice booms as it pauses. The air seems to be pressing against my skin so hard that I couldn’t take a breath. “Siid…” The voice takes longer than it should to roll off his tongue, more of a hiss that words. I shiver at the name, though I have no memory of hearing it before. “Where is he?”

“I am afraid that he has vanished.”

“Aezel.” The dark voice says, a mere whisper. I see purple erupt in the corner of my eyes.

“Yes, Nocturnas?” A bright female voice emerges from the cloud near me. I hold my breath, hoping that it would not notice me.

“Where is Reagent Siid?” Nocturnas answers back, a clipped question.

I hear Aezel take a deep breath. After a moment she gasps deeply. “Dead, my lord.” Her voice wavers only slightly, her voice softer than before. “By the hands of the Illuminatus himself, it seems.”

“Find out what has happened immediately.” Nocturnas orders and the mass near me vanishes. “As for you, Cleanser.” More twigs snap as the man approaches Nocturnas. “You shall receive your wish.” The movements stops. I inch forward, pressing myself into a bush until I can see one of the two figures through the thick leaves. The man I can see is clad in black robes with symbols stitched sporadically. The same symbol from the dream I had awoken from. My eyes widen as a pale hand is lowered on the man’s shoulder.

“Dear Cleanser. The way to join my side has been with you all along.” Nocturnas reaches his hand into the man’s cloak and pulls a dagger, the half-moon and sun carved into the blade. “Give your heart to me. Pull it from your own body before me now to prove that you are worthy to be at my side.” He takes his hand away. I hear the wind pick up around me as tendrils of black circle around the man, and the heavy pressure in the air is lifted.

“Yes, my lord.” The man whispers as he drives the dagger into his chest. I stand in horror and his eyes focus in on me. “I gave you my life by becoming you will, now I shall deliver you my life.” He drops the dagger as he finishes his carving, and pushes his hand into his chest. I watch his eyes roll as he rips his heart from himself. His collapses to its knees, but its arm remains outstretched to the skies with the heart in his hand. 
The heart continues to pulse as the dagger rises from the ground and glides straight for the outstretched hand. It pierces all the way through the palm and into the heart. I gasp as the trees around my go wild. I clutch at my side as I loose balance. A dim light erupts from the organ as a contorted screech sounds.

Something is coming. I panic and try to move away. The wind steadies to a weighted breeze. I look back to a mist that seems to be crawling toward me.

Before I can move, there is something that I cannot see on top of me, its weight is pressing me down. A pair of hands find my throat, and the pads of two thumbs press on the front of my neck, cutting off oxygen. I cannot breath, and I struggle regardless of my side ripping more with every movement of my torso. I keep moving, but there is nothing I can do. The blurred mess begins to enter my sight as my body begs for Oxygen. Just as my struggling begins to slow, I feel the hands ripped from my throat, as if whatever being was on top of me was ripped away. I pant uncontrollably as the screeching sounds near me again. I tense up, as different tones appear. It sounds as if they are supposed to be words, but I can’t make anything out. I roll over and away from the noise.
Have to get… away… My mind repeats numbly as I force myself up and begin to push through the forest. Breathing too deeply in the dust causes me to wheeze uncontrollably, but I don’t allow myself to stop. The sky has darkened, the beginnings of dusk reaching the forest first. The wind gets lower the farther I am from the screaming. Soon, the wind is the only sound around me. I let out a sigh of relief as the light wavers around me, blotted out by night. But the dark isn’t able to fully mask the dust the still permeates in the air. There must be no moon because son I see nothing other than a slight light through the trees.

I press my hand to my wound and take a deep, staggered breath. The dust reaches my throat once more and I splutter for a few minutes. When I have a hold of myself I step through the trees, heading for the light and trying to avoid obstacles I could trip over. As I reach the edge of the forest I hear a sudden voice behind me, and I turn to find nothing there. A shiver resounds over my body as I take quicker steps. The voice continues, but the more I listen the more is just barely evades the depth of my understanding. I know that it is masculine, and it is fractured, low, and almost could be mistaken as merely the wind. But I know it isn't.

    I have stepped into a small cul-de-sac, the street lights flicker in this particular area, over on the other top of the medium sized houses, skyscrapers are in dominion of the sky. The only thing that seems to hold a place above the giant towers is the dust that coats them. I turn to look back on the forest that I just came from, and there is a huge sign reading “Alastor Park,” and a few next to it with a crossed out tent, a dog on a leash, and one indicating no smoking. There is also a cement pathway leading into the park.

    I walk along the sidewalk, observing no life anywhere in the neighborhood. All of the houses that line the street are a decent size, each with a garage that can fit one car. A couple of the homes have basketball hoops, indicating children, others have dog houses. There are no cars on the street. Automatic sprinklers are wavering back and forth across the lush front yards of every house that I can see from. I keep moving, going to each house checking to see if anyone is there that I can ask for some peroxide and gauze. There are no signs of life in any of them. After checking the first couple houses I have given up. The voice from before has spoken this entire time, every once in a while it shuts up for a couple minutes, but then it continues with its aggravated notions. Whatever it is, it hasn't done anything to me yet so I just calmly walk ahead. When I walk past the last house in the neighborhood to the city beyond is when it starts getting louder, angrier at me. It takes nothing out of me to just ignore it, however.
            The voice is louder, as if yelling when I begin to walk around the city streets. I can hear syllables, some vowels, but nothing that can be connected to a word or phrase. I make my way down the sidewalk, able to see small parts of the area around me. Street lights are toppled over, cars crumpled as if a paper meant for the garbage can. Buildings are wrecked, some in half, leaning on their sides, massive towers exiled from their place in the sky. The voice hasn’t stopped ranting, a jumbled mess of sound around me. I question why I am so calm about it then I shove it away as if it is of no importance. I try to convince myself this is why, even though no part of me accepts it as the truth.
            I begin to cough the more I walk around in the dust, my lungs filling, and each particle making my throat shudder. I decide I shouldn’t try to go this way, the dust was just getting thicker the further I went into the city. It was obvious something big had happened, and whatever caused it could very well still be around. I turn back the direction I came from, toward the suburban neighborhood, and walk along that path again. It is then I realize the voice has stopped, as has the wind. It is silent, completely. So silent I hear ringing in my ears that covers the lonely expanse. Just when I have taken in the soundless dread of what is around me, a sound erupts from across the street. A cell phone?
            The dust isn’t as bad as it was a few blocks back, so I don’t hesitate to head over to the noise. It is then that I freeze. Lying on the ground is the contorted face of a person. It is not recognizable, and is curled in a ball, as if trying to protect itself. There is a blood spatter that is smeared across the sidewalk leading to this once living being; they had crawled here in their last moments. I look over the body for a moment, for some reason completely calm.

             There are more like him. A male voice within me thinks. That's why I have too...

            Have to do what? A part of me intersects.

            I don't have time for this. A female voice answers.

            Parts of me continue to bicker.
            The wind picks up, and it sounds like something is taking a huge breath. I quickly pick up the phone and begin walking again, as soon as I press the phone to my ear I hear a single word, said by the very tone that has been harassing me since I awoke, “Run.”
            Instinct takes over, and I am sprinting back towards the neighborhood. I feel the blood spilling down my side, my leg, and onto the ground. I think of the human with the smear leading to it, to where it died, and wonder whether it will be the same for me.

            No, it won’t. I hear the female voice in my head, because I think that I am already dead. The thought wasn’t mine, but I don't have time to question it.

            My body begins to itch and I scratch at my arms as I am running. When I look down I see my skin, it looks rotten with almost a green hue. What is this? I ask myself, confused as I continue to run. There is a huge cracking sound behind me; an indent in the side walk appears as if something crash landed there, it is around the size of a human body. My wound is pounding with every heart beat and every breath I take, but I keep moving.
            I get back to the neighborhood I was in earlier trying the houses on the other side of the street. The dust has thickened to a point where I am wheezing as I run. The first house I come across is locked; its white walls and plain brown door beckon no entrance. I dive down the steps and cross the lawn, hopping over the fence leading next door. A large chocolate lab lies dead in the lawn, its fur matter with a deep red, Strawberries and Chocolate, a small voice in my head comments and I feel a bit woozy. I go up the few steps leading to the pale, beige door that is outlined by a dark brown, and find the knob immovable.

            Locked, again. The fence here is too large to climb over, and my side pulses as I try to breathe in. I go around to the bright blue house that looks drab in the pale dust. By the time I am on the path leading up to the small deck, I feel the wind directly at my back, there is a breathing sound that is huffy, laughing, and mocking at my every move. The doorknob turns under my hand, a sigh of relief escapes me. But the door won’t budge. I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as a cool rush assaults my senses. I pound against the door, throwing my whole body into a crushing weight that collides with the wood. I feel it bend slightly, but is doesn’t open. Something is blocking my path. I throw myself against it again, more desperate. My head fills with balance of panic and pain as my side shrieks at me. I feel a hand on my shoulder, pressing down as if to calm me, I spin wildly, only to see nothing but the slight light of the street lamps and the sidewalk leading up to the porch I now stood upon.
            I turn to the door again, throwing myself into what seemed to be an immovable wall once more. It finally slams open and I land face first on the white tiled floor of the mudroom. I leap to my feet and slam the door, but it won’t stay shut. Forcing my way in has broken the locks. I look around, immediately finding a shelf to keep the door closed. It looks as though it was made out of pine, and is very heavy. Perfect. I think as I drag it with all of my might over to the door. Once it is slid into place, I try to find something in the house to defend myself.
            I leave the white tiled room, with its gray painted walls, and head to a peach colored family room. The walls of the room are covered in shelves lined with books and two dark emerald floral couches are around a coffee table in the center. On the coffee table is a giant record player. I smile to myself slightly, taking the time to run my fingers over its tone-arm.

Tones vibrate through the air, old jazz music and swing tunes.

            I pull away with a frown. In front of the coffee table is a giant fire place, where I pick out an iron fire poke from. For some reason this stands out to me more than the thought of what might be in the kitchen, and I clutch it tightly in my hands as I breathe in, calmly and deeply. I decide, now that I have my weapon, I need to make sure I am secure. I go over to one of the windows in the room, and close the light doily like curtains, observing that the dust has already gotten thicker. As I turn around I notice a small alter against the wall behind the couch.

            Above the couch is a symbol. Not just a symbol, the symbol. For some reason it makes me shiver. At first, I look down and away, gripping the fire poker tightly. I look back towards it, noticing the still lit candles surrounding a leather bound book with bold letters reading “LAW.” Bile rises in my throat as I smash the fire poker into the alter. The book flips to the side, lying open. “Cult a Solaris.” It reads above a printed version of the symbol labeled “The God’s Crest.” I back out of the room towards the small entryway uncomfortably and turn around as I enter the kitchen, going towards another open window and shutting it.
            I turn to find the bloodbath that is the owners of this house. A wife, a husband, and two small children are in disarray near the corner of the room, behind a mahogany table. I can see it as if it is happening now. The dark haired father holds the younger boy in his lap, his toothpaste scrubs muddled and sweaty. The boy in his lap looked in kindergarten, he wore a shirt with the comic book hero Superman on it and his hair was dark brown with a slight curl in the front, a cowlick that would never be tamed. The mother, a tall blonde woman in a light tan khaki suit, clutches the boys’ hands in hers. On the child’s other hand is his older brother, a boy that looks around thirteen, his blonde hair matches his mothers. They had all been huddled there, the father muttering some small prayer from his Sunday excursions long left behind. Then, the scene erupted. The same things that had attacked the woman on that dirt path were upon this small family in an instant.
            The father went first, his head tossed like a basketball and sent rolling down the hall. The mother, screaming, pushed the small boy back towards his headless father, and leaped forward only to have her legs grasped and torn open in ribbons. She struggled, kicking, as the smallest child cried, trying to understand why his mother was leaving him, and trying to understand what was happening. As one of the demons dug its claws into the back of the boy, he reached out toward his mother. But it was the older brother and not his mother that was there, waving off the monsters with a large butcher knife. Before he could do anything, he, too, was drug down by the invisible forces. The mother got the farthest across the kitchen floor because she had abandoned her children.
            Now, I only see three faces because the fathers face is clear in the other room. The youngest child’s eyes are still droopy with tears. Snot trails to his mouth which is opened with a sob. The older boy’s eyes are wild and filled with a deep anger, the anger that he must have felt towards his mother as she fled with a look of terror. I lift my foot and stomp down on that wicked woman’s face. The pain and confusion the poor boy must have felt as his mother abandoned it must have been horrible.
            The kitchen is tiled in white, and I see the knife that the older boy had stood up to the creatures with. This doesn’t appeal to me. To the right of the family, is a back door, leading to a small overgrown lawn surrounded by a fence. I look over the counter, seeing the knife holder in disarray from when he tore the blade from it. The rest of the counters look like that of a typical kitchen, cupboards line the upper ends, and a large expensive stove is in the corner opposite a double-door refrigerator. I leave the kitchen to the white colored hall, the fathers head is distorted in a scream, eyes empty like he is looking through me. A part of me wants to not care, to move on, like I have seen things such as this before, but another part cringes at the scene I have just looked at. To my left is stairs that I climb. As I ascend, I see pictures of many family members and occasions. None of them matter, however, because times such as those are over for this family.
            As I reach the top of the stairs, I hear a gurgle sound from the bottom followed by a strange series of clicks. I turn and see the younger of the two boys twitching and jerking his body as he steps into my view. His bright red eyes are twitching around the room grotesquely. His irises are thrown upward as I watch him inhale through his nose, taking in a deep, snot filled breath. His body jerks as his eyes do, aimed straight at me. I watch his jaw drop and teeth begin to chatter.

            Panicked hums and other breathy noises appear in front of me as I feel a gust of air push me towards the rest of the house. The small child places his hands on the first step as a harrowing scream escapes his lips then rushes up the stairs, eyes locked with mine. I rush down the hall towards the ajar door at the end. I pass others but don't stop to check the content. Blood drips down my front and onto the beige carpet and my body freezes, a cough forcing its way out, blood dripping from my lips as I stumble forward slightly. The boy is on me then, arms wrapping around my torso as I feel his teeth open the side of my neck. I fall, knees first, as he digs his fingers into the space below my collarbone. I move on my side and with all my might, slam the boy into the wall. He doesn't hesitate, pulling the sinews from my neck then biting into me again. I slam myself into the wall again and try to pry his hands off me.

            His fingernails dig deeper and I let off, moving my hands to his head. My thumbs find the boys eyes and I press, a great grunt escaping from my open mouth as the grapes give way. The boy releases slightly and I press with the tips of my fingers that grip his scalp. I hear a wet sound as the back of his eye sockets give in and the boy goes limp.

            I lean back as my arms fall to my sides, the boy’s body is stuck between me and the wall. I am breathing heavy, one hand goes to my side, the other to my neck. Copper overwhelms my mouth and pours from my lips as I let out small, overpowering coughs. I hear the hum once more, lower, and closer to my side. My arm reacts as if to push the being away and I am greeted with carpet.

“Hello Chase.”

I look up to see a great beam of light on the silhouette of a bearded man. The light reflects of a pair of gleaming glasses and the shine of a golden ring with a black stone set and the center. He looks down on me and I shiver.

“G… Good morning Reagent Siid.” My voice quivers, I am much younger now.

“Have you discovered anything within yourself to dispel your wickedness?” He asks, voice of a lecturing parent.

Tears well up inside me as he takes a step forward. My body tenses with the clenching of my teeth as I look up at him with wide eyes. “N…No…” my breath leaves, staggered.

“What is given to those who defy the God’s?” I can see his smile now, twisting at the corners with every word.

“They…” I stutter. “They… Die.”

            I am sore, my head rotating like a top just released from the hands of a child. It keeps spinning, and spinning until I seem to snap awake, all motion stopping at once as I gasp. Out of the corner of my eye I see a floral pattern surrounded by green. There are two voices around me. Male and female, however, as usual, they are nothing but a jumbled mess. I feel a hands trying to help me up but I jerk away, the corpse atop of my falling to the side as I quickly stand.

            “Don’t. Touch. Me.” I find myself hanging on every word with a thick, stern, voice as my body spins.

            There is a weird serious of sounds through the air that echoes in my ears, it almost sounds like laughter. My side is bandaged; I realize this as I breathe in and feel the creases and folds of the lining on my skin. I rotate my wrist slightly, realizing that it, too, has been taken care of. I reach for my head, feeling over the indent. Somehow, it feels less inward than it was before I passed out.

            How long have I been asleep? I think. I feel dizzy again, so I push the thought of my head away.
            I hear yelling, as I begin to stand. I can actually make out “Chase,” And “wait,” in a males voice. My whole body feels like it is screaming as I try to move, but I need to get away. I need to keep moving. If I don’t one of those things are going to come after me. I am confused as it is, whatever these things around me now are they couldn’t be thought of as “friendly.” They were one of them.

I force my way up, feeling my side rip open as I get passed the hands. I get to the back door and slide it open, limp through the back yard and fall over the fence and into an open field with oaks scattered about with random occurrences.
            I land on the ground with a thud, coughing as the air briefly leaves my lungs entirely. As I get up I see exactly where the wall of dust that is the city begins. If I can’t see them they can’t see me, right? Pushing off the fence, I head as fast as I can toward the city. Then the wind starts in the exact instant that I feel something colliding with me, a force of a full sized football player bringing me down.

I am slammed into a trunk, my face grating against the little pieces of loose bark. I lay back, trying to get a hold of myself as the dizziness resumes. I sink down, laying on my back looking at the wind as tosses the trees limbs around. Then, I am somewhere else.
            I hear a name: “Chase.”
            The trees are swaying steadily, the wind blowing with a peaceful hue. I hear the birds song, the small fluttering of wings, and I feel every freckle of sunshine on my face.. I breathe in, knowing that I am safe here, taking in the smell of this wonderful place, on the top of a hill not far from my home.
            “Chase.”
            I hear the patient voice again and open my eyes slightly. A woman’s face peers down on me, the tendrils of her blonde hair almost touching my cheek. Her bright green eyes shimmer in the light of the setting sun and her dimples flourish with the unmovable smile on her face.

She is wearing dress of many shades of pink in spiraling patterns with a mix paradise flowers and peacock feathers. She looks into my eyes, and I feel my heart patter. My face turns a slight red as I smile back at her, embarrassed.
            “You” She begins, but I finish for her.
            “Fell asleep again…” I say and she nods; her hair is wavy, and her bangs stick out straight from her face, the newest style. I reach my hand up to her, smiling. My fingers curl around the underneath of her ear, and her hair files between my fingers. My palm cups her cheek as we look at each other.

I feel as though nothing can ruin this moment. “I love you.” I smile at her. “And I am sorry for being horrible at this date thing nowadays.” She smiles back and a small giggle escapes from her as I guide her face, with the smallest of push from my hand, down to me and give her a kiss.
            “I love you too… Chase…”
            She is happy, content. Just as I am happy and content. She lays down on the blanket, and curls to my side. Everything on this hill is beautiful, the tree above us, the sunset, her. Everything is perfect and just as it should be.
            Everything changes. “Chase!”
            I hear her scream as I stand above my body that she isn’t letting go of. Multiple pairs of people trying to pry us apart. My bloody, matted, mess of a self is dead. My new form almost shivers, I have no heartbeat, so I feel the strain of all my emotional grieves as they cause my entire being to shudder. I am at the same scene as before. The scene that I think is my own death. I look around, panicked. Then I see the God Crest written in blood across the walls of the basement.

            Cult a Solaris... I think as I shiver.
            Then there is a scream. A female voice overpowers the visions and I am in a black space. Around me are flits of jumbled light, flashing as pain echoes from within them.

            “I....” The scream is sharp, words lost until the voice seems to find the strength to lament the phrase. “I'm burning!”
 

            As the vision fades, I hear a female tone vibrate through the air, the one following me. I could swear that it said “Chase...” but that doesn't matter. It wasn’t the voice that I wanted. I open my eyes to see only dust. No sunlight, no blonde hair, not sparkling green eyes, just dust. It is quiet, a soft wind, which meant it is only the two beings that have stayed with me despite my protests.

I try to relax, their presence bothering me as I test my ability to breath. My whole body seems to itch, but the dust isn't as irritating as before. But it has been this way since I woke up. I don’t even dare to scratch, or move for that matter. I close my eyes again, hoping to see the woman, but I already can’t seem to remember her face.

            She is dead. The voice is a whisper, blocked by a held in breath. It isn't me.
            The ground shudders as the oak I was under topples over next to me. The wispy sounds of the female and male tones arguing appear in the air, and then something is helping me up and half dragging me away from where the tree just crash landed. I push away, limping on my own. I do not want these things touching me.

            I don’t know who or what they are, or even if they really mean to help me, says the constrained female tone. Then my head starts to pound.

            I clutch the side of my head and yell. “What’s going on?!” Then I feel something pressing on my back, trying to get me to keep moving. “Leave me alone.” I say loudly and begin to run. I needed to get away from everything; I needed a chance to think and I wasn’t getting one here.
            I run for a while through the dust, but I don’t feel it in my lungs as I did before. I slow to a walk when I hear the voices no more. The city looks just as it did yesterday, broken and cracked, piles of rubble and streaks of blood ran across the expanse like canopy of a modern art painting. I go down streets, alleyways, trying to just put some distance between me and those things.

Everywhere I look I see crumpled cars and people. The side walk can’t even be walked on without tripping over pieces of rubble and broken bodies. My blood seeps onto the pavement with every step of my weakened legs. I can barely breathe from the pressure of pain on my temple.

After I walk for what seems like forever I approach a large outdoor fountain surrounded by tables and chairs in disarray. Bodies lie as frequently as empty bloodied outlines. I shiver when I think of the dead child in the house I had just escaped from.

The fountain itself is peculiar.  There are eight planters that surround it, each with a plot of dirt and a shattered glass cover. The dirt is loose and flung around in a way that is seems like something was ripped from it. I touch the glass, noting that the olive colored ooze is on the inside. My eyes catch on the running water and I approach the fountain.

My reflection looks familiar… almost like the woman I can’t seem to correctly remember. I have long blond hair and green eyes. I share the same facial features of the woman from my visions, but I am not her. I am could have sworn I was a man.
            I am ripped from my thoughts as my hands begin to itch unbearably. I pull them out from the water, scratching them with a vengeance. Skin is pulled with each strike of my nails against my flesh. When I notice this, I force myself to stop. They still itch and the skin is peeling up my arms. I examine my hands more, a different skin tone then the rest of my body. I run my hand through my long hair for the first time. As I do this a huge clump falls with my hand. I take in a deep breath, my side complaining as I look over myself in the reflection. What is going on with me?

            I am looking in the mirror, shaving. My hair is short, but not too short, maybe a bit shaggy, and completely black. My eyes are blue color. I am in a nice suit, perhaps getting ready for work, with a fedora on. The water behind me shuts off and out steps… out steps…

            There is a woman behind me. The white of her eyes are a deep blue, and her irises are slightly lighter. She is dressed in pure white with hair the color of a white-blue star. Her hair stretches out around her, like a cloak, and she is floating. I look behind me, and there is nothing but a soft gust of wind. I hear the tones of the female voice I have been hearing since the house and look back at the fountain. Her lips are moving as she tries to communicate with me, but there is no point, all I hear are the slight hums of the one that has been following me. She looks so familiar. I know her, but from where and how? She nods at me and I touch the water slightly, watching her face distort. I feel breath on my face; it is cold, as the reflection shifts to show her next to me. I feel as though I can trust her, even though another part of me screams to flee. Somehow I know that, whatever the real me is in here, the real me trusts her.
            The woman puts a hand over mine, and motions to follow. I look away from the fountain cautiously, limping with the pull as her invisible form tugs me along. I am lead to a glass door, where we stop. I hesitate before opening it for us, confused, and then she tugs me along once more. We enter what looks like a shopping mall, store line either side of the large walkway we have entered. When we get inside, she pulls me toward a bench, slightly pushing on my shoulder for me to sit. When I comply, my shirt goes up, and I feel her fingers go over my bandages. A roll of gauze floats up and settles next to my leg on the bench.
            I hear the vibrations of her voice chime in; I think she is trying to make me calm. The bandages begin to be picked off, each piece takes off a bit of a bloody scab with it. I tense up, knowing that it needs to be done, pain shooting up to my throat as I breathe steadily, it feels like a bandage being forced off with each piece. When the gauze is finally removed, I am still breathing heavily. I feel the blood rushing from the wound. A bottle of water floats to my hand, I take a drink. I am about to put it down when I feel a hand on my good wrist. The woman guides me to my wound, and tips the bottle slightly. I take a deep breath, and pour it over it. I squirm slightly as my body begins to itch, but I feel her hands over my wrists. More hums enter the atmosphere.
            The bottle is taken from my hand and is replaced by cloth. I dab at the wound, resisting the urge to itch. I feel her pushing my hand away and the bandages move to fit my form, I hear the rip of tape as the irritable wound is completely sealed and feel a slight pat over it. I feel her hands on my bad wrist, then. I realize, as she touches it, that I haven't been feeling its soreness for a while. I pull my hand away from hers and look over my own. Nothing is wrong. Just then, a mirror is pressed into my hands, one with a plastic handle. I look at myself in the mirror, noting the black lines that surround my eyes. Then, a form appears behind my shoulder. I tilt the mirror so I can’t see myself, and instead look over her fully. She smiles slightly then points at the wall. I follow her. Words are carved into its concrete base.
            “I am a friend.” It says.
            I nod slowly, and respond aloud. “What is going on?”
            “Gheist’s,” she carves. “Well, Poltergeists,” She corrects, “They were commanded to make sure you were dead.”
            “I know you?” I ask cautiously and she nods.
            “Nerith.” The name is carved in immediately.
            I am confused, but I nod. I feel dizzy, and my side continues to itch. I begin to think about things, I begin to try and remember her. This only makes things worse and thoughts and possibilities swirl in my head. Something inside of me knows her already and I know that she is not the same woman from my visions. Something else is carved into the wall, but my vision is already blurred and my body is spent. A bag of chips is thrust into my hands as I begin to drift off. I think I eat a couple before completely falling asleep.