Waking to the Shadowfell

I awake, home again, in our bed, whole and warm and safe. The blankets smell faintly of lavender and sex. The pillow beside me is cold; I am alone in a place that is not.
In a home that is gone.
My face is whole, my breast unmarred.

 
This town is not my town. This place is not real. Faceless creatures pass me, no birds sing, no wind touches me. In the simulacrum of the temple, on the altar: an unfamiliar blade. The altar is covered in blood, sticky, congealing. I reach out to touch the pommel, to examine it, and pain lances through me. Pain, and something else. Holding the blade, that night flashes through me, more than I knew I had seen....

...

 
...

I awake again, naked and alone, ethereal chains around my wrists. I reach inside me, and the magic is elusive, slippery, like the freshwater eels that would swim past our legs in summertime...

I walk. Darkness around me, and I walk. And I walk. Rest is short, unfulfilling, always disturbed.
I feel my magic coil around my being. I reach for it, unloose the last of my power, targeting myself - *Banishment*. The familiar release, the recoil, and then...nothing.
I don't quite know why, but I'm not surprised. What could surprise me here?
 
In a stupor, I walk on.
 
Time passes, walking. Endless walking. Sounds I don't recognize. Unfamiliar, unsettling light. Purple darkness pooling around me.
In the distance, a single, small point of light - the only feature of this landscape. The soles of my feet whisper across the dark powdery ground. I walk on.
Slowly, the light grows.
I walk. I feel eyes on my back; I am not alone, but I am not ashamed or afraid. Not yet.
 
 
I walk. Before me, there stands a figure, obscure in the low light, though there is a gleam of plate, of shield. Pace quickens. I approach her - I approach me - my face. My scar. Hovering in front of my chest, a glowing red stone, polished. Beautiful, malevolent, I can't tell. Everything here is strange. It feels cool in my palm; I take a breath with unreal lungs and *pull*. The gem comes away in my hand; I close my eyes. I open my eyes. My shoulders ache, my head pounds, my plate is heavy, my mouth dry. I'm alive. I'm...somewhere. Good enough.

 
....

My feet continue forward, body heavy, endless forward motion to - where?
 
 
Through the fog of this trudging exhaustion, I hear something new, moving slowly, sounding heavy: footsteps, a long gait: big. It’s caught my scent, I think. It's hunting me. I hide. I am so tired, and I hide. I see its outline against the ever-murky sky: massive, colossal, unfathomable. I hide. And hide. And hide.