Submission (#6109) Approved

Having spent a considerable amount of time within the pocket space and corrupted mana well, Chester began to feel restless. The slightest sound put him on edge, paranoid of things creeping at the edge of his vision. Dark shadowy creatures plagued his dreams, and more often than not, he would awaken, finding himself in a strange gray and drab scenery, as if all the colours were sucked right out of his surroundings.

The landscape was filled with gray mountains and rocky outcrops, a veil of miasma hanging thick in the air. Sometimes, it made him wonder if he was truly awake or not, as it all felt so real. He had never been to Vahl D’sari, knowing of the dangers and peril that awaited those foolish enough to venture into such a place. Corruption was quick to take hold, and the chances of encountering daeva were quite high, which often resulted in a lethal encounter. Very few lived to tell the tale, and those that did… were never quite the same again.

And yet, if he had ever visited the place, he had a feeling this was what it may have looked like. Violet mana crystals jutted from the ground, some cracked and fractured, and skeletal remains were scattered about the place. The blue/purple haze made him think of Silveil, and the bones of Ahza, but he knew this place was neither of those regions. This place lacked the shimmering stars that always clung to the skies above Silveil, the night a deep rich blue compared to the sinister dark of his current surroundings. And the near leviathan-esque bones showed a sort of wear and corrosion that differed from those of the sandy region, almost emanating a sort of malice and corruption within its cracks.

Dead, decaying trees dotting the landscape reminded him a little of the barren trees in Silveil forest and parts of Shaedmoor, but these also gave off a different sense of decay, as if they were completely devoid of all nutrients and life, a moment away from just withering into dust.

Whenever he had these visions, they always seemed to differ slightly each time, whether it was being surrounded by mountains, trees, or in an open barren field, but one thing that remained constant was…

His fur stood on end as his ear pricked up, picking up on the sound of something close by. He whirled around, wings fanned out. There was something slithering about in the shadows, a pair of glowing white eyes fixed on his own. Their forms always seemed somewhat unstable, as if they were not quite solid, and at times, they almost seemed to be pulsing, radiating a kind of energy that left one feeling quite unnerved. Perhaps it was due to his djinnin nature, as he had heard faenin had the ability of fey sight, but he was fairly certain that these creatures were a form of pure mana, energy mixed with solid anima form, giving them the appearance of shadowy shape-shifting creatures.

Oftentimes, they resembled snakes of some sort, slithering about in the air. While they mostly seemed to be made of energy, parts of them were covered by plates and scales, not unsimilar to those on an actual snake. Other times, they were reptiles. Sometimes they were wisps. They also seemed to resemble wolves, or some sort of vicious 4-legged creature, fur bristling as they eyed him with contempt. Another feature they all seemed to have in common were glowing rings, often around the legs for the feral versions, and around the tails or head for those that lacked limbs.

Everytime they showed up, Chester would keep his distance, knowing it wouldn’t be wise to try and engage with them. Dream or not, there was no telling what side effects may occur if something happened within these visions. Seers would often say that dreams were gateways, portals into the soul, that they were interconnected, and if one often dreamt about the same thing, it was a sign of things to come. While he himself wasn’t really superstitious, even he knew not to tempt fate.

Thankfully, the creatures also seemed to keep their distance, the two often engaging in a staring contest of some sort. As long as neither made any attempt to close the distance, nothing really happened. There were, on occasion, some that would try to venture close, only for Chester to stand his ground, fur bristling, fangs bared, and wings flared wide open in an attempt to seem intimidating. It would usually work, as the creatures would back away, and as long as Chester himself didn’t attempt to go after them, none of them would try to keep pursuing him.

Still, these visions were exhausting, and every time he awoke, he would feel drained. They began to blur the line between dream and reality, and made him wary of any and all creatures. The caw of a crow overhead would make him jump. The croak of a frog would startle him. Any rustling nearby would put him on edge, and there may have been several occasions he would let loose a breath of fire out of instinct, only to send the critter scurrying for their life as Chester quickly attempted to put it out, apologizing profusely for scaring the critter and for damaging the environment further. He knew this couldn’t go on, and he would have to force himself to keep going, to find the source of the corruption and bring an end to it.