Lysander's Dreams

"They're only dreams," Lysander smiled at Dierdre, comforting her as she looked at him in worry. "Everything's fine." 

"Are you sure? How can you tell what is a dream and what is real?" She asked, and he blinked at her. 

"That's an odd question." He replied. 

"Is it? Is this real or a dream? How can you know?" Her voice wavered with anxiety. 

"Dierdre, what's gotten into you?" He reached out to take her hand. 

"Nothing, nothing," She assured him, "I'm just frightened." 

"There's nothing to be frightened of," He smiled, but she frowned. 

"You can't know for sure," She insisted. Her eyes swam with tears.

"What makes you speak this way?" He asked again. 

"If this is all a dream... if we're all really trapped..." Her voice broke, followed by her face. 

It shattered, like glass shards, and the pieces fell to the ground. 

"Dierdre!" He cried out. "My love!" 

He rushed over to scoop the fragments of his wife into his hands. Her silent screams were in view in each one, and his hands were cut by their jagged edges. 

Black blood oozed from each laceration, coating the mirror-like pieces and obscuring his wife's visage until she was gone from his sight. The sharp obsidian fell through his fingertips, but made no sound as it hit the floor at his feet. 

"Dierdre," He whispered, but no utterance met his ears. 

"How can you know what's a dream?" Her fearful voice echoed from behind him. He turned, but was met with Darkness. 

Cloying Darkness that licked at the light, strangled it, consumed it. 

"This. This is a dream. I'm not here." He said firmly.

"And where are you?" The voice warped. 

"I am in Ceto. I am with my wife. I am making things right." Lysander closed his eyes. "I just need to wake up."

"You have woken up. Your hope was a dream. You're here, with me, as you always have been," Titania's voice whispered in one ear. He batted it away, but there was nothing. 

"No. I escaped two years ago." He replied. "I'm not with you anymore." 

"My dear, sweet pet. My little songbird in a black cage. I'm delighted you found hope again. It's so much more fun to crush you when you fight back," Her musical lilt faded in and out. 

"You're not here. This is a dream," Lysander insisted. 

"No, all that was a dream. The escape. You think I'd let you escape? Silly man, of course I wouldn't." 

"You are not all powerful," He said, as much to remind himself as to combat the Void's lies. 

"And you are not forgivable. What a beautiful thought, that your wife would take you back. Your daughter. That you could have any value to the world after what you've done. Such delightfully quaint dreams. Precious, and childlike." Titania's laugh bubbled around him, eerie and troubling. 

"You're wrong." Lysander challenged her. "Much can be forgiven." 

"The quaint imaginings of a tortured soul. You never left here." The darkness intensified around him, and he felt the ropes around his hands that secured him to the all-too-familiar tree. 

He moved closer to it, feeling the scars in its bark where he had etched into it with his fingernails in his quest not to go mad. 

The names of his wife and daughter, crudely carved. 

"Such a sweet and futile effort," Titania 'tsked' at him. 

"This is a dream," Lysander whispered to himself, but his voice was gone again. "I escaped long ago." 

"There is no escape." Her voice came from different angles, as if she were hovering around him. He shuddered. 

He pulled at his bonds, and suddenly it was as if they turned to fire, searing his wrists. 

Gritting his teeth instead of trying to scream, he determined to stop giving the Void the pleasure of seeing his discomfort and sat down, still, on the ground. 

"Oh, that will not do," She tutted. 

He felt the rope move, but did not know what to expect until a leaf brushed his face just an instant before the tree he was tied to knocked him over, falling across his legs and abdomen. 

His cry was silent. 

"Help," He mouthed in the black silence. 

The only answer was her cackle. 

Lysander closed his eyes. 

"You're the one trapped, not me." He tried again. "I'm free." 

"You seem very free right now." A sarcastic laugh punctuated the taunt.

"You're trapped in the Darkness." 

"I'm not trapped, at least, not for much longer, once I have what I need. Besides, you're here with me, to keep me company forever," She replied. The rope seemed to burn through his skin. The smell of it seared his nostrils with its acrid stench. 

"No. Just until... I wake up," He coughed against the scent. 

"There is no waking. That was the dream," Her haunting giggle floated around him. "But I'll let you enjoy it a while. It makes it more fun when you wake up again. Sleep now." 

His thoughts muddied and he drifted away. 

A scream met his ears, as he sat up suddenly. 

It was his own cry that woke him. 

Dierdre was at his side, eyes wide. "My Heart," She said.

Lysander blinked, and opened his eyes. This felt real, and yet, so had that. He touched his wrists, but there were no burns. 

"It was a bad dream," He said. 

"Are you sure?" She asked. 

The similarity to the question she'd asked in the dream threw him into confusion. "What?" 

"Are you sure it was just a dream and not illness or an attack by the Void?" Dierdre pressed. 

Lysander relaxed slightly. "No, I suppose I'm not." 

He tugged her hand and she sat beside him. He put one arm around her and she held him. He was comforted, and smiled. 

"Talk to me about it, please." She requested. 

"The Void," He frowned. "It tortures me." 

"Do you think it's real?" She asked. 

"It said... it's not trapped for much longer." He murmured. 

"Can that be true?" Dierdre hugged him a little tighter. 

"I don't think it meant to let me know anything," Lysander thought over it. "Maybe it was just a bad dream." 

"It seems like more than that. In Klain, you would have bad dreams, but nothing like this. You scream and thrash. You hardly sleep." Dierdre looked up at his face. "We're going back to Klain." 

"All right." Lysander sighed. He knew he couldn't go on like this indefinitely. 

"Let me make you some tea." She stood and left him alone for a few moments. 

"What does it need?" He whispered to himself. He thought it over for several moments, but came up empty. "Once it has what it needs..." 

Dierdre returned as Lysander was putting on his shoes. 

"Where are you going?" She asked. 

"I must see Roland," Lysander said firmly. 

"He just left a few moments ago, I'll fetch him!" His wife was kind, and overly concerned for him. He smiled at her gently and nodded, and she left again after putting the cup of tea beside him. He sipped the hot beverage as he waited, thankful to have such a wonderful woman as his own.

Roland returned with her several minutes later with concern written on his face. 

"Is everything all right?" He asked.

"Yes. Well, no, but things are not worse." Lysander frowned. "The Void... it said it will have what it needs soon. That it won't be trapped for much longer. Maybe it was just a dream, but it felt real, as real as this conversation does. I thought you ought to know." 

The futility of speaking about reality if this was a dream struck Lysander, but he pushed the thought away. 

Roland's brow creased. "It will have what it needs soon? What does it need?" 

"I don't know. I'm sorry I cannot be more help," Lysander shrugged. 

"You have been helpful," Roland nodded at him. "I... I'm aware how the Void can affect one's mind. It is manipulative. I'm sure you already know that far better than I do, I'm not sure why I'm telling you again."

"I understand. You want to know if I'm close to breaking," Lysander sighed. 

"That's about the gist of it, yes," Roland cringed. "Sleeplessness can weaken the mind." 

"I spent a year being tortured in the Darkness, as you know. Why would I break now, when I have the daylight hours of freedom?" Lysander smiled. 

"Let me know if anything changes." The Rhone prince looked skeptical. "Or if you find out anything else. I will think on what you've said. Thank you." 

Lysander nodded, and sighed. He was so tired, he wanted to sleep more, but the dreams deterred him. At this point they were more exhausting than terrifying. He'd spent too long in the Darkness to be terrified by mere dreams of it. Roland left after a handshake, leaving Lysander alone once more. 

"You'll have to do better than that to scare me." He said into the quiet. "I'm stronger than I was before."