Submission (#6530) Approved

As Wem stumbled back home, every step felt like a backbreaking, grueling journey. Exhaustion had settled deep within him, a weight that dragged at his very core. Mew, his concerned sister, rushed to his side as soon as he staggered through the door. Her worried eyes mirrored the distress she felt. Wem explained where he had been and what he had done, while Mew scolded him for his recklessness while silently fretting over his well being.

"Idiot," Mew muttered under her breath, though her voice was filled with concern. "You shouldn't have gone in there, Wem. You scared me half to death!"

Wem could only offer a weak smile in response, his body aching with weariness. With Mew's help, he managed to make it to his bed, collapsing onto the soft cushions with a grateful sigh. Mew fussed over him, tucking him in and making sure he was comfortable, all while chiding him for his foolhardiness.

"Rest now, you reckless thing," she scolded gently, brushing a paw against his cheek. "I'll be right here if you need anything."

As he drifted toward sleep, a wave of relief washed over Wem. Despite the exhaustion that weighed on him, a warmth flooded his heart. Mew's presence was like a comforting balm, easing his troubled mind and offering peace and protection after what he had gone through.

However, as he sank into slumber, his peaceful facade shattered. Nightmares descended upon his mind like a relentless storm, a haunting echo of the horrors he had witnessed. The scenes played out in twisted visions - a corrupted Faerindell, a realm tarnished by decay and darkness.

In the depths of his nightmares, Faerindell appeared as a distorted, grotesque reflection of its former glory. The realm was cloaked in a shroud of horrible and all consuming corruption, a sickly manifestation that twisted every aspect of its beauty into a nightmarish illustration.

The once vibrant and beautiful flora, which had flourished with life and vibrant hues, now wilted and contorted like they were in grotesque agony. The delicate petals of blossoms drooped and blackened, their vibrant colours drained away, leaving behind a pallid, sickly appearance. The air, once perfumed with the sweet fragrance of blossoms, now carried a noxious stench, a foul miasma that suffocated and poisoned the land.

The very essence of Faerindell seemed to writhe and recoil from what Wem had found out was a daeva's presence. These monstrous entities, looming like twisted specters, were an affront to the natural magic of the realm. Their bodies, a chaotic fusion of dark violet energy and pure anima, pulsed with an eerie radiance that cast a haunting glow across the corrupted landscape.

Wem found himself trapped in this nightmare, his sister Mew by his side, both ensnared in chaos. The Daeva, with their twisted and monstrous bodies of dark violet energy, loomed before them. The descriptions he had heard of these beings paled in comparison to their horrific presence; twisted forms combined with an amalgamation of anima and pure energy, their bodies radiating a sickening aura.

The daeva, with their shifting forms and eerie halos of light around their arms, brought havoc with every movement. They emanated an aura of darkness and dread, their very presence causing further decay and anguish. The land trembled beneath their cursed influence, very foundations of the realm itself protested their intrusion into Faerindell.

Wem's heart pounded in his chest, fear clawing at his insides as he witnessed the chaos unfold. He reached out to Mew, a desperate attempt to offer comfort amidst the nightmare's turmoil. Yet, even in the dream, his touch felt fleeting and insubstantial, as if the chaos around them refused to give way to any form of pity.

The once familiar landscape, corrupted and twisted beyond recognition, played havoc with Wem's senses. His mind struggled to reconcile the horrors before him with the Faerindell he cherished. The discordance of the nightmare gnawed at his sanity, each moment spent within its grasp a harrowing ordeal.

As the nightmare held them captive, Wem grappled with a sense of helplessness. The overwhelming weight of the Daeva's presence and the devastation they wrought clawed at his psyche, threatening to consume him in a vortex of despair and terror. It was a nightmare created from the memories of his encounters with corruption he found in Faerindell, a haunting reminder of the dangers lurking beyond the veil of reality.

Suddenly, Wem jolted awake, his heart racing, his breaths coming in frantic gasps. Sweat beaded his forehead, his body trembling with the aftershocks of the nightmare. Panic coursed through him, the vividness of the dream still fresh in his mind.

He scanned his surroundings, relief flooding him as he realized he was safe in his own room. It took a few moments for reality to sink in, for the haze of the nightmare to dissipate. Slowly, he calmed his racing heartbeat, his breaths steadying as he clung to the reassuring familiarity of his surroundings.

Shaken but relieved, Wem lay back against his pillows, his mind reeling from the intensity of the nightmare. He drew in deep breaths, grounding himself in the reality of his room, the remnants of the nightmare he had just had slowly fading away. It was just a nightmare, he reminded himself, just a creation of his fears and anxieties. Yet, the terror lingered, haunting and skulking at the corners of his mind, reminding him of the horrors he had faced within his own subconscious.