3 Quella: Goddess of dreams

Only darkness. Drake's senses were gone, he only had his thoughts to keep him company.

Even without his senses, he felt like he was falling, a vision formed in his mind, his body falling through infinite darkness, limbs flailing like a puppet with its string severed. The darkness surrounding him held back by only a dim grey light.

An inestimable amount of time passed in this void, and Drake mulled over the paths his life had taken.

Drake was an orphan of sorts. His mother was an alcoholic and junkie. His father was her dealer. He was conceived after one of his mother's attempts to 'persuade' some 'free' produce out his so-called father, and so came about the boy called Drake.

Drake grew up very independent. He had to. Lacking the warmth of a caring mother and with an absentee father, he had to mature fast, lest he starved, or be thrashed by his abusive mother.

To get by, when his mother wasn't feeling charitable enough to feed him or had wasted all her cash on drugs and booze, he resorted to stealing to survive.

From the ages of 3 to 7, Drake would break into one of the nearby neighbor's houses whenever they worked, Whilst his mother was too buzzed out of her mind to recall his existence, he would sneak off to steal food.

He aimed for inconspicuous stuff initially, old noodles, and canned sardines. Nothing that would be noticed missing. Over time he became more daring stealing whatever he could get his hands on, ultimately leading to him being caught in the act, and the local bobby was called chiefly as a scare tactic for the young boy. But they quickly discovered his mother, curled up in her own filth, a soot-blackened spoon on the table with a needle still injected into one of her scrawny arms, her mind drifting in and out of consciousness. She didn't even protest when they took him. He was taken away by social services and fostered with an elderly couple.

James and Rosie Mallory were, without a doubt, the most caring people Drake had ever met. James was a retired veteran, and Rosie, a nurse. They doted on Drake, filled his life with joy and the parental warmth he had been missing, and faithful to their title, they fostered in him a sense of integrity and compassion. Drake had always aspired to be like his foster parents. They both influenced him, leading him up to the decision of becoming a combat medic with the royal medical corps, so he signed up when he came of age.

At 16 and a half years old, he attended 14 weeks of combat training at the Sir John Moore Barracks, Winchester. Followed by a further 22 weeks of education to be a medic. He served 2 years in a non-combat zone and was later deployed to Mali, bringing the fight to Islamic extremists in the region. It was there that Drake made his most steadfast friends among the British, French, and the native troops he helped train.

After 6 years at the age of 22, having advanced to the rank of major after outstanding service, he applied for termination and went to live with his foster family. James and Rosie were getting on in years, have become regulars at the local hospital over the last 2 years. And he wanted to spend time with them while he could.

After a few months under Drake's care, they passed away in their sleep, held in each other's embrace.

The weeks after were the worst period in Drake's life, losing them left him feeling like his world had ended. Everything seemed less vibrant. Bleaker.

Feeling unbound by any commitments, Drake decided to spend a few years wandering, wanting to experience the world and know its wonders, while burying the anguish he kept in his heart at the same time.

This is what had brought him to Greece on his first excursion into the wilds.

While following a trail through the mountains, his GPS broke, leading to him getting lost and by chance, stumbling upon a God.

"Huh, so I'm supposed to save the earth? Become someone powerful enough to assist a god? Mom and dad always did say I would be a hero, save lives. Guess they really had no idea to what extent,"

Sighing internally, a sickly sense of traversing to someplace forbidden grew, gnawing at his mind.

"I wonder where I will end up. He said a world that had seeped into the dreams of mortals, maybe that's where our fables come from. Echoes from distant worlds,"

Drake's mind drifted off as the tender arms of sleep enveloped his conscience.

He dreamt of towering spiraled castles. Terrible darkness lurking deep below. Powerful flaming souls filled with divinity, and of the undead. They're dark souls sealed by remnants of a now cursed fire.

Something shifted.

Drake felt his ears pop, the sensation awoke him and clasping his pounding head he stood up.

His senses had returned sharper than ever. Overwhelmingly so. He had materialized in a place utterly alien to him, and it felt like the world was rejecting him. Like he was a virus, an external entity that needed to be expunged.

He opened his eyes, the light blinded him a little before he adjusted, and he bore witness to the phenomena that surrounded him.

Drake stood on a small island, and at its center stood a colossal tree. Its roots protruded from the soft earth before returning to the still clear blue water that circled the isle. Each of this splendid tree's leafy branches formed individual iridescent domes that gleamed with shimmering cyan and jade lights, its bark a vibrant and holy white, marred only by small streaks of black. Coating the earth was latticed veiny blue moss that seemed to vibrate with magic.

Drake taking in the sights, couldn't help but say aloud.

"How beautiful."

The tree hummed. The sound akin to the purr of a cat, and Drake heard a voice in his head.

"Thank you, unblemished one. For your words, bequeath me considerable grace. I am Quella, the God of dreams, for this ghastly world ruled by the endless cycle of dark and fire, chaos, and death. Who might you be? Human untainted by the Pygmy's darkness."