Sweet Dreams

“I’m sorry about the blood… “Amethyst trailed off, handing her pockmarked and sticky travel robe to the graying chambermaid. She kept half hidden behind the wooden bedroom door, dressed for bed and not looking much better than her battle stained clothes. Having to spellcast in her dusty travel gear, she wasn’t surprised on how poorly the moves and notes had come during her dispel magic. Only the lack of proper bards and frontierness of this unknown land had made the power as potent as it was.
 
“No worries dearie. You don’t get to be my age working at a tavern and not see some blood and battle damage.” The kindly old maid added the final garb to her clothes pile and lifted the basket. ”Thank Branchala you had your guards around you to keep you safe so you could arrive at our inn in one piece tonight.”
 
“Yeah…” Ame mumbled, thinking of all of those less fortunate than her; who’s final bed was burning embers and falling beams. Her party member’s concern always seemed to cause more trouble than they solved...No matter the party. “Something like that…”
 
“Even a soldier hasn’t seen as much blood as I have. No siree…” As the gray haired maid sauntered off in her mutterings, Amethyst closed the door softly and let out a long sigh.
 
“Hello darkness. My old friend…” Ame hummed to herself. It had been awhile since she allowed herself to make music for her own. “I’ve come to talk to you again…”
 
Setting the latch lock, she made her way to the bag of holding. Her breath caught and she winced at the pain. Letting herself react openly to the beating of the long day. The potion’s magic couldn’t quite heal everyone up to full and her own tapped at healing the others as well. And poor Biki.
 
Pushing aside her frock, she peered at the slices of flesh barely clinging to her wounds and the dried blood that encircled the holes. Dark purple and brown bruises flowered throughout her side where the building’s bricks left their final stamp on the world.
 
It wouldn’t have been the first time for the bruises, thanks to the teachers and judges of the temple. Only perfection was rewarded with peace. No beating…not the ultimate peace.
 
Fishing out her canteen and a cloth too frayed to anything other than a rag, she cleaned her wounds as best she could. There was a bath (it was her first question), but there had been something with the tavern’s tub that night. She had requested it for the morning before breakfast. Without the benefit of magic, she feared for the scars she might have in the morning. Her singing spilled through the room, ever practicing her craft as her mind drifted.
 
Amethyst’s expectations of freedom were dashed. Flung into a new land. Unfamiliar Gods. Little money and even less enemies. She had thought there was no way her past would find her here. Even though her party was...strange. Even though she missed her old group. This was a chance to escape. With enough funds and supplies, this was her chance for a new life. Now that she was left to her devices after a day like today, the cloud crept back in. The feeling of sliced flesh by her tail dagger hadn’t felt like vindication but of entrapment. The desperation of magic as she threw at the fallen corpses and riddled body parts. The slipping into her old skin of greed & airs of superiority. Ame knew. It was a hell here too. And with that hell...and the missing gold...he would likely sniff her out.
 
Throwing the rusty wet rag to the coarse floor, she dropped the frock and went straight to the lumpy bed that was a thousand times better than the forest ground and MokNathal’s snoring farts.
 
The pain was there but she pushed it angrily out of her mind. She did what she had to do. Now was hour of for sleeping. There was nothing else to do. To worry of. She hadn’t known her companion long. He was in a better place. And what use was the money if it led her back to bad habits and useless magic.
 
As she closed her eyes under the thick blankets she wondered how Ardantan could bare to sleep out in the forest practically his whole life.
 
—
 
The fogginess of the room obstructed her view as she opened her eyes, finding herself laying flat down against a fine mahogany pew. Ame yawned and brought her hand to her eye, rubbing the unnatural sleep away. What little saliva she had disappeared as Amethyst took in the familiar floor tiles, propping herself up slowly to look up at the main performance hall.
 
The room’s beauty was punctuated in gold and silver; the moon’s rays poured through the stain glass and gleamed against the full playing choir. While the conductor’s back...Lydea’s back, was to her, the rest of her group sang and played on without a care in the world - except the fear of death. Their hoods were up but she knew every single one. The incenses of rosewood and myrrh swirling and bringing the riches of perfume in their worshipping performance.
 
Brushing the hair from her face, her eyes peered up and rested on the gilded throne. Jade and furs and exotic magical relics built the seat they hovered in midair. The value of components unimaginable to anyone. Even the greediest among them couldn’t count the diamonds and sapphires that were built into the floating stage. Never to touch the ground. Always appearing from above. A seat only for their majesty.
 
A figure parted the choir as the last notes of the band bled away. She recognized her frame, the jewels on her horn, the way the tunic fell around creamy chestnut skin and scrunched at the gold pins holding the outfit up. Her fingers reached for her hood and pulled it down. Amethyst watched her smug face, proud of the recognition, begin to sing the solo she was given.
 
“It truly is a hideous concoction…” the deep cold voice said at the tip of her ear.
 
Gasping and panicking, Ame threw herself away from the pew, causing it to grind harshly against the marble floor. Her song continued on as if nothing happened. As if behind a bubble where her actions couldn’t penetrate.
 
“The chair dear. Not your voice.” The ghostly voice spoke again, just as cooly. The whisper of incense curled around her next, blowing the fabric of her sleeping smock against her skin. “Yes I’m the god of greed but greed doesn’t have to be so garish…”
 
Ame reaches for her sword that wasn’t there. Then reached behind for her tail dagger. Which was also missing, thanks to the stupid idea of taking it off before bed.
 
“Looking for this?” The voice mused. A familiar long sword, thin and strong tumbled down from the throne. It hit the floor with a clatter, soon followed by the clatter of the dagger’s fall.
 
Jumping into a sprint, she dove for the weapons and barrel rolled gripping both in her hand. Her bare feet slid a few inches as she twisted herself back onto her feet. Now only a mere shoulders length away from the conductor. Still, Ame didn’t dare to take her eyes away from the swirling scented smoke.
 
“My dear sweet child. Is this what you do? What you live for? To help unfortunate adventurers, like yourself?”
 
It seemed to darken and solidify slowly in front of her.
 
“Poor souls with no one else to turn to...”
 
The smoke snapped into leather black bands and shot towards her. She leapt out of the way as it blew past her and struck the choir member in the chest.
 
Cloak falling, she saw the grotesque throat of Pirvil Riverforce slit from ear to ear as the fabric cut into him. His face as pale of death. Flaky burgundy blood ran down his stubbled chin. He crumpled, just as he had when she cut him to the ground.
 
As the body hit the floor, her solo stopped. It was like the scene kept going, but her notes went mute. Instead, the acapella hums and thrums that had accompanied her took the room. Sounding menacing and comforting at the same time.
 
The black bands bounced off the dead body then stuck another member.
 
“Can't you see?”
 
That one was Shelvidit Vragurkomzye. His face was punctured by grinding wolf teeth. A scream in his eyes while he fell to the attack.
 
“You belong to me.”
 
Hoga Amberblade’s laugh was still on his lips where it had been smashed by their cleric Taellin’s holy weapon.
 
“How my poor heart aches with every step you take…”
 
The ribbons split into tens of deadly floating strands and attacked the choir from every way. Faces of all the deaths she caused. From enemy Redbrands to goblins to lastly Lydea’s body. They all fell. Arrows. Great axes. The deaths obvious from her and her friends hands.
 
“Enough!” Ame screamed, her and her doppleganger the only ones left standing as the soft thud of the final body hit the chamber floor. “I’ve made a deal with you once before! And look what it’s gotten me!” She lifted her sword and walked angrily towards the danger.
 
The bands seemed to shimmer and disappear, forming back into a more steady cloud of hazy, black, sweet smelling vapor.
 
“Honestly, I thought that I would be dead by now.” She spat under her breath, more to herself than to the figure. She continued to mumble as she glared.
 
He purred in his bemused laughter. Velvety smooth and dangerous as molten metal. “Well my child, that wouldn’t serve either of us any good.” He did not withdraw from her threat. Just continuing to hover as she felt him watch her. His head cocked to the side, and she could feel the seductive smirk of a god intrigued.
 
“I think the real question is: What do you want from me? Why don't you run from me?” His voice ticked up in amusement then started to growl as she approached. The gas around her grew like thick tar as she pierced it with her weapons ahead of her. The dagger extended. The sword hilt at her ear, ready to thrust. His voice was all around her now. “What are you wondering and what do you know?”
 
“I know…that I’m too valuable for you.” Ame twisted her hand and activated her Cloud of Daggers.
 
The arcane blades materialized in the space, spinning around her like bees around a hive. The speed of her knives a whirlwind, kicking up the fumes and disbursing them like a summer gust.
 
For the briefest moment she thought she had gotten him. Her chest rose with triumph as the spell continued to buzz around her. The air stuck and started to fall in her chest as she tried to end the spell. The steel edges just moved faster. Starting to nick her arms, legs, her tail, the fabric of her clothes. She could hear them clang against the gold on her horns. Little slits of blood began to appear all over her body. She tried to dodge one, just to get caught by another. Death by a thousand cuts, the ruby droplets glimmered against her skin like ornaments.
 
His laughter boomed against the high ceilings and expansive room. No longer the amused chuckles but full mad laughter of the victorious.
 
“Do you forget who I am? What I’ve shown you my foolish child!?”
 
The daggers began to peel off. One by one they whizzed from her. She could hear them thump into wood. Clatter against ground. Sink into flesh.
 
She turned as the last dagger slit her cheek and shot threw her hair. She just had enough time to catch it sink into her two headed orc and traveling companion Nathal’s already falling chest. Mok’s eyes already closed. The large trunk of Keljack
 
Where there once was the choir of bodies now laid her old party members. Blood pooling around them. Her knives littering them like fleshy pin cushions. Chests ratting with dying breaths. Old and new. Orcs, genasi, humans, elves...all the people she had partnered with to run from. Dead by her spell.
 
Her doppelgänger was there beside them. No longer singing. No longer oblivious to the madness of the room. Dressed in her travelers gear. Bleeding. Beaten. Screaming madly as an aarakocra decked in her cult’s high priest robes approached her with its glowing staff and sacrificial song. A fireball prepared. It went on like the worst, most real play Ame had ever seen.
 
“I can show you more power my dear.” Her god murmured lovingly into her ear. His form seem to solidify her into a prisoner’s hold. Without the benifit of seeing him she knew he was the most handsome physical being her mind could ever conjur. The sound of a lover waking the other, at the dawn of another beautiful day.
 
A pair of chiseled arms hugged Ame from behind as she stood mesmerized. She heard Fluffy their wolf dog emerge from nowhere. The keen bird eyes snapped away from her twin for just a moment. While attempting to take a bite of the large bird a quick spell had their dog lying dead, falling from a point blank fire bolt with still singeing fur. Her clone’s screams growing desperate and final.
 
The hand cradling her cheek like a protective parent. ”This does not need to be your future... You once were lost. But now you’re found.”
 
“I’m too…valuable for you...” she said weakly. Her resolve almost gone. He was a drug that killed you with your own pleasure. Fighting it was just as painful as giving in. “I don’t need your deals.”
 
“My precious Amethyst, your value is what I say it is.” The fireball filled the room in a swirl of lethal flames. The pews and bodies ignited like lantern oil. The smoke of his frame was nothing to the toxicity of melting flesh and the shattering rain of stained glass. Despite the close proximity of the flames she felt his protection keep her safe from the hellscape. Safe but caught, like a rat protected by the very cat ready to swallow her whole. Her twin’s screams turning choked then silent.
 
“No…” she whispered. Her fingernails reached up to the arm and clawed at it with her sharpened tiefling nails. It was like scratching her blade; his flesh had no give and no response. “This isn’t real! This is just a dream..”

“My dear...” His baritone voice thrummed in it’s tantalizing way again. Her body felt the sound of his voice vibrate through as he moved against her. “You are in my domain. What are dreams…” she felt the arm flex right before she heard her neck snap. Her body tumbled as she took her last glimpses of his world. “...but bedtime lies?”