Terrible Morning

Michael stands stock still in his cage as the clamouring around him gets louder and louder. It gets so loud that it's defeating, giving him a migraine that seems to burrow into his skull and stabs at his brain. He can't even squint his eyes and grimace at it due to him not having control of his body, only making the sensation worse.

*Creeeak!*

The cage door opens and Sheffield steps inside with a large grin, she walks in and caresses his face like how a mother would inspect her son. Only, there were no tender feelings between them. "It's time again, Gandalfr. Wake up and give our guests a show... What shall we do today? Shall I have you tear your own nails off and hold your fingers in jars of salt? Shall I cover your legs in honey and have insects devour you?... Well? Give me your answer, pet, what would you prefer?"

...

"This is an order, Gandalfr, wake up and answer me. Wake up."

"Wake up."

"WAKE. UP!"

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Michael rapidly sits up and draws the dagger from beside him, his eyes shooting open as he scans the surroundings. His breathing was ragged and heavy, and his sleeping bag was moist and damp with what he hoped to be sweat... "Wha-t..." he mutters after spotting nothing in the surrounding forest, running a finger across his lips to check his teeth for the Nth time.

Finally, he shakes his head and scowls as he looks down at the dagger, "A dream. again... Damn." he growls, wondering how long he'd be visited by visions of Sheffield. He'd escaped from her clutches, yet it felt like she was hovering unseen over his shoulder no matter where he was.

"Maybe they'll stop when I carve my name into that bitches face." he murmurs, feeling like a pitiful child with the way he was agonizing over this.

He flips the Book of Commoners and opens Shadow Shaman's page, spotting Rhasta sleeping under a tree with some Serpent Wards curled up next to him...

"Hey, Rhasta?" Michael tentatively asks, not wanting to wake up the guy out of the blue with his own personal issues.

...

"Ya?" the shaman sounds out.

"Can we talk?... If you want to, that is." he mutters, feeling self-conscious for having to talk to him about this.

Rhasta rubs his eyes and sits up, looking straight at Michael with a curious yet tired look. "What's wrong, young one?"

Michael chews his lip for a moment before airing his thoughts, "I've been having trouble sleeping lately, and I keep dreaming of someone I dearly want to kill... Do you know if there's any way to stop these nightmares?" he asks.

...

Rhasta sighs, "I suppose you weren't treated well during your capture then, young one?" he says but doesn't wait for an answer, "Listen. I do not know exactly what you are feeling, but I myself was afflicted with terrible nightmare after my master, the one I considered my father, was murdered." he looks down at the ground solemnly, "I dreamt of that day every night for years, hearing his screams as those he had swindled butchered him like a pig..." Rhasta looks back up at Michael, "Understand young one, that these nightmares are but your fears made manifest. It was only when I came to terms with my master's death that I truly freed myself...

I do not know if it will be the same for yourself, but perhaps letting go of your anger and hate for those who made you suffer would free you too?" he ventures, but only succeeds in angering Michael.

"What? And let them get away with what they did to me!? I absolutely refuse! I promised to repay every single slight against me one hundredfold! I promise myself to tear them apart when I was free!... I won't allow them to escape after what they did to me." he flowers, his hands trembling as he tightly squeezes them, unable to restrain his hatred for those bastards.

"Now, now, young one... I wasn't suggesting to forget your quarry, only that you don't let your emotions dictate your actions! I know vengeance very well, after all, I massacred those that killed my master... But understand this, you are allowing them control over you if you let those feelings of hate fester!...

Think of it as a battleground! You are the commander, but the enemy leader knows of your hatred. As soon as you spot your hated enemy, you would concentrate your efforts on destroying them... But, the enemy knew this, allowing them to trap you... Your hatred makes you predictable, and weak! Overcome it and prove that you are stronger than the impression they left on you!" Rhasta states while pointing at Michael.

...

Michael sits against the tree with a hard look, he understood what Rhasta was saying, but it wasn't all that easy to forget. And it was even harder to try and ignore and overcome his hatred for his enemies. "I... I'll think about, Rha-Master Rhasta. Thank you for listening to me." he says, feeling slightly better after having this talk. While he didn't completely agree with what Rhasta said, he knew the man was far wiser than Michael himself was. He at least had the humility and self-awareness to know he could be wrong, and was willing to take Rhasta's advice for now.

"No problem young one, remember that I'm always willing to listen... Even if it's something embarrassing. After all, it isn't like I can tell anyone! Huahehahahaha!" he laughs as Michael closes the book, dematerialising it and leaning against the tree with a self-deprecating smile, which slowly turns into a frown as his thoughts drift. "I wonder what you'd think of me now, Lillith? Would you care that your brother's a killer? Would you be embarrassed that he's suffering from night terrors?" he mutters with a chuckle.

He stays there for ten minutes before shaking his head and packing up his sleeping bag, "Time to get moving I spose', can't wait around here all day, Tiffania's waiting for me."