“Oh, my.”
“The damage to my sense of proprioception was the worst. I’ve been a creature that crawled without arms and legs before, and yet, even that, somehow, was a thousand times better than being something that could not even control what its body did. Imagine it. Your own body, out of your control. Your arms and legs and torso – melting away, spreading out of your grasp, ignoring your desperate, eager pleas to come back, to listen, to not abandon you.”
“I’m not scared of death. When I die, I will not even be aware of it. But to be alive, and not live, to be a conscious thing incapable of action, thought and words. Unable to so much voice my horror with a scream, to not even have the option of ending your existence –”
The room was silent. My hands, I noticed, were shaking. Odd. They never shook. Not when going against Hoplite, against Zlosta, not when Oblivion died or when I was on the verge of demise, time, and time, and time again.
“For the first time since I’ve been in Alamir… I was afraid. You – you made me… afraid. Because I realized, dying is not the worst fate I can have. It’s actually… the most merciful.”
It was only, after the words had left my mouth, that I understood. That I understood why I had said them in the first place entirely. A soft chuckle escaped me at the realization of it all.
“Your Epithet Skill… it more than makes people desire you, doesn’t it?”
There was a smile on Erzili’s face. It did not reach her eyes. “It does, darling.”
I would have laughed if I had the energy in me to do so. I knew it was her skill doing it. I knew, it was her skill, making me open my mouth and talk. Making me relaxed, comfortable. Soothing the urgency I should have felt. Curbing the bloodlust and drive I’d started my mission with. Yet, I could not find it in me to be bothered. I wondered if her skill was responsible for that too.
“So, I suppose, I’m here to kill you. For that. That fear. I told myself it wasn’t personal. But it is.”
“Killing Erzili won’t get rid of that fear, darling.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Darling,” Erzili rose from the bed, approaching me with soft, slow steps. “As powerful as Erzili is, Erzili is nothing, nothing, darling, compared to the true nightmares of this world. The Night Emperors, Nightly Ones, Anathemas, Transcendents, Champions, Demiurges and Devas – Erzili is nothing to them, darling. Even if you kill Erzili – you cannot kill them all darling. For as long as people dream, nightmares will always exist.”
“Then what am I supposed to do? Live in fear?”
“No, darling,” Erzili shook her head. “Just survive.”
“Survive?”
Her eyes shone with dark-red light. “Nightmares are like Oreillian wine darling. We don’t die of old age or sickness. The number one cause of death for nightmares is a blade. Or a fang. Or a claw. Occasionally a tentacle. But a nightmare, always, always, finds their end, one way or another, through battle. And thus, the most powerful among us are the oldest among us. Those who have survived a million battles.”
“So survive, darling. Survive. Survive and survive and survive. Pick your battles. Flee, be cowardly and dastardly if you must. Cheat and lie, betray and trick, and do whatever you can to survive.”
Her hand reached out, lightly caressing my mask. “Without knowing it, a day will come when you realize… that fear no longer haunts you.”
I took a step back on instinct. Her words, her actions –
“That’s what you’re doing now isn’t it?”
Erzili smiled. “Clever, darling. Yes. Though Erzili sincerely doubts you have the means to kill Erzili, there is always that slim possibility. Erzili has managed to survive this long by avoiding direct combat, and will do anything, anything at all, to survive even longer.”
“Why are you trying to survive so hard?”
Erzili sighed, before spinning around and taking a seat on the bed once more. “For a foolish dream, darling. A dream this foolish one has had since when Erzili was a slime with ne’er an ounce of intelligence.”
Erzili landed flat on the bed, her hand gesturing up, grasping at air. “Erzili wants a family. A group of nightmares of all species and races. Working together. Living together. Something like what the adventurers have. Erzili has always envied that camaraderie.”
Erzili sat up. “But, Erzili hasn’t survived long enough to have strong darlings. They die, and Erzili starts over, finding new nightmares without homes to take in. And they die again. And Erzili, once more, starts over. And over. And over. Erzili has lost count how many times now.”
Even without a stomach, I could feel the nausea of guilt. My mind was already tuned into high-gear. Thinking. Solving. Coming up with ideas. A possible solution. In the end, I could not kill Erzili. Both because I lacked the necessary ability to do so, and because I no longer had it in me.
Erzili’s shapeshifting powers were out of my grasp, but there was no reason for Erzili herself to be so. There was no reason at all, to at least have access to the shapeshifter, if I could not have access to shapeshifting.
“You’ll get them back, your darlings.”
“Is that so darling? Necromancy is amongst your list of skills?”
“No,” I said. “But… you will. You won’t remember this conversation. Or that they were ever dead, to begin with – but you’ll get everyone back. I can guarantee that. But… I’m going to need something from you to do that.”
“What is it?” She was eager. There was not a hint of suspicion in her tone or expression.
“First, some information. Night Emperors – what, who are they?”
“The Emperors of the Night,” Erzili shrugged. “What else could
