Chapitre 10: Fever Dream
It took Lyda's mind a few minutes to regain her full consciousness. She kept her eyes closed and took in several deep breaths, which sounded as though they were echoing from all around her. When she finally opened her eyes, she looked around to see that she was still sitting by the fire, exactly where she had nodded off to sleep. The brightness of the fire seemed to be toned down, and she could no longer feel any heat coming off it. In fact, the entire environment around her appeared to be drained of much of its color. That was all the confirmation Lyda needed to know that she was no longer in the conscious world. This was a dream.
Lyda stood to her feet. This was not like any of the other dreams she had made for herself thanks to the ritual. She was not like her sister. She was not as interested in the blissful dreams Adea constantly rambled on about. More than that, Adea would never have dared to enter her own nightmares by her own free will.
Everything was silent and Lyda felt nothing in the air. She turned to look at the tents behind her. Not sure what she was thinking, Lyda walked over to lift the flap of the tent in which Jay and Adea were sleeping. She peeked inside, but to her surprise, she saw that neither one of them was there, just the blankets and pillows they had brought. Lyda headed over to the boys' tent and peered inside. They were gone as well. Confused, Lyda thought back to something her sister had told her four years ago about her own dreams. She said that every time she had a nightmare, Lyda wasn't there, her bed empty. Connecting the dots to what she was seeing now, Lyda guessed she had successfully walked into a nightmare, and perhaps other people were not visible to her while she was dreaming.
It was only now that Lyda felt cold and, though she did not want to admit it, afraid. What had she done? Was she prepared to see the things that frightened her sister half to death? Her heart was already racing as she looked around her gray surroundings. She felt so alone in this state, struggling to remind herself that she was still in complete control over her dreams. If she needed to, she could force herself awake. It would all be over before she could blink.
"Be calm," Lyda said under her breath. "Be in control. Don't be afraid." She spoke the words so quietly yet they seemed to echo all around her, and she could not escape the sense that she may not have been alone. Maybe I should keep my thoughts to myself, Lyda said in her mind.
As she continued to stare around the dark environment, Lyda tried to think about what she was looking for. She wanted to know more about the ancient ritual she and Adea attempted years ago. How could she find answers? Where would she start? Lyda could think of only one place. She had gone there on her own before. This would be no different. Relying on her own control, Lyda clenched her eyes shut and thought about where she wanted to be. A cold rush swept over her exposed arms and face, and when it had dissipated, Lyda threw open her eyes.
A quick glance around told her that she was no longer at the campsite she and her friends had set up. Lyda managed an awkward smile as she found herself standing in the center of the mysterious place called the Crossing, only there was something very different about it. The tranquil sensation in the air was gone. Instead, Lyda felt an overwhelming weight of primal fear enveloping her. She did not understand. It wasn't like this when she came here for the first time. It's just the dream, she told herself. It had to be. The nightmare was trying to play tricks on her mind. Well, she was not about to let it work.
Looking around, the first thing Lyda noticed was that the water of the streams was not flowing. They appeared frozen as if in time. She focused her mind to will the streams to flow again, but much to her shock, nothing happened. That couldn't be right. She was supposed to be in total control of her dreams. Lyda shook her head, trying not to think about it. Her eyes were drawn to the spot on in the rocky wall where she remembered the crevice to be which led to the ritual site, and she was surprised to see that it was already there. Before, she had never noticed the opening until she drank from the spring water, but she guessed it wasn't necessary in her dream.
Lyda approached the narrow crevice and slipped her way inside. With each step, it became more and more difficult to breathe with ease. The fear was weighing down on her heart. The only thing that enabled her to trudge on was the reminder that she could wake up at any time. There was nothing real to fear here. The only question in her mind was, what was this frightening sensation she was feeling? Why was it all around her like this?
Before long, Lyda came upon the ritual site. The circles of stones were just as she remembered them. When they performed the ritual, Lyda had left the blood-soaked carcass of the hen in the center of the site. She saw now that it was nowhere to be seen. Not surprising, she thought. If she could not see Adea nor the others in her dream, then it stood to reason that she would not be able to see the dead hen either. Even if that was not the case here, surely another animal would have come and dragged it away.
Focus! Lyda commanded herself. What did she expect to find here? She struggled to remember what it was she was looking for. It was almost as if being back in this place was stifling her train of thought. She was distracted by what sounded like something creaking within the brush on the other side of the stones. Lyda looked up, narrowing her eyes as they fell upon an opening in the bushes just wide enough for someone her size to slip through. Interesting, she thought. She did not recall seeing it when they were here last.
Lyda moved around the circle of stones toward this new opening. It was pitch black on the other side. Lyda could not see anything as she stepped sideways into the brush. The bushes did not even touch her, as if they moved through her instead. If she did not know she was dreaming, Lyda would have thought she was a ghost. The thought made Lyda giggle to herself in a way that also came out like a nervous exhale. She must not have been paying attention because, as if out of nowhere, her foot failed to land on solid ground.
Lyda let out a scream as she fell forward. Her eyes clenched shut and she waited to hit the ground wherever it lied below. Suddenly, Lyda felt her fall break, not by impact, but rather as if she were floating gently to the ground until at last, she touched it.
Lyda opened her eyes. It was in those brief few seconds that she seemed to forget she was in a dream. Then why, she wondered, could she feel her heart pounding within her chest? A sudden, peculiar thought came to her mind: what became of death when one entered their dreams?
Lyda was beginning to grow anxious again. She had to control herself the best way she knew how: by reminding herself that she was not like her sister. She would not be scared so easily. Lyda lifted her head to look around. To her surprise, she found herself inside a large, open cave of some sort. It was dark, but the moonlight shone through a hole in the center of the ceiling and illuminated the cavern with a faint, eerie glow. Lyda glanced above her and could just barely make out the hole through which she fell. It was an underground cave, and just outside the ritual site. Lyda wondered if it was really here or if it was just part of her dream.
Whatever the case, Lyda's curiosity was only growing. She stood to her feet and walked slowly toward the pillar of moonlight. Eventually, she let out a gasp as she came to the edge of an enormous hole in the cavern floor. Her jaw fell open as she scanned the giant chasm before her. The mouth of the hole stretched at least thirty feet across, sloping inward like a funnel. The walls of the chasm were lined sporadically with jagged, stone protrusions jutting out like teeth. The sight made Lyda shudder. Her skin began to crawl as she could hear a distant sound like whispering rising from the pit in front of her. She tried to blot out all other sounds, but the whispers were too quiet and distant to discern. Much of her wanted to follow the voices, but the same amount urged her to turn away; that she might be treading into places her young mind was not prepared to handle.
"It's just a dream," Lyda muttered, her voice echoing inside her head instead of coming from her mouth. That was all she needed to convince herself that she was completely safe. She took several deep breaths, struggling to suppress the itch to turn away. Finally, she forced herself to leap forward into the abyss.
Lyda floated gently into the black chasm, just like she did when she first fell into the cavern. There's nothing to be afraid of, she thought. In her dreams, she was more powerful than anything they might have in store for her. She simply had to have the will to brave the unknown.
Lyda descended for what felt like fifty feet, or more, there was no telling. The darkness at the bottom was so heavy that she could feel it in her very spirit. Her feet touched down in a shallow, liquid substance that sounded like water but felt much thicker and gave off a faint, rubbery smell. The voices were a bit louder but still not discernible. They came in short spates, leaving her standing in an atmosphere of pure silence otherwise. "Show-" Lyda began to mutter as quietly as she could, but her voice still sounded deafening. Just like that, the voices ceased, as if made aware of her presence. It made Lyda almost too nervous to speak again, but she swallowed her fear as best as she could. "Show me something."
There was a moment of silence that felt like an eternity. Lyda's eyes were burning in anticipation. Just then, she heard another series of voices coming from behind her. Lyda turned around to see a faint light appearing in the dark distance. It grew until it formed a pillar of light that was almost too bright to look at, and yet it was still stifled by the intense darkness. It looked almost like an opening doorway.
Lyda was not thinking as she lumbered toward the light, cringing as her footsteps were made loud by the thick substance beneath her. She was forced to raise her hand the closer she got to the light as her eyes struggled to adjust. The light was just as bad as the darkness. She could not see a thing beyond it, and it only got brighter. Eventually, Lyda's eyes were clenched shut as she began passing through the light.
To her surprise, her feet stepped out of the shallow liquid and onto dry ground. Her eyes finally began to readjust as the light faded, and she saw that was standing on a stone floor made of small, hexagonal patterns. That was when she began to scan her new surroundings.
Lyda could not believe what she was seeing. She had wandered into what appeared to be a dark, stone corridor. She had never seen anything like it before. It was beyond anything her people could have ever constructed. The walls were lined with pillars every ten feet or so, near the top of which were hung strange-looking torches. It was not fire lit at the top of these torches. Instead, they shone with a small orb of white light that neither shimmered nor crackled. Lyda did not know what to think. One thing was for sure, she was not at home anymore.
The voices had stopped, but curiosity made her continue forth. As she wandered, the corridor was filled with an echoing sound like air rushing through, and it made Lyda shiver with anxiety. She tried to ignore the unnerving noise until it slowly shifted into a familiar sound that made her heart stop. Somewhere down the corridor was the unmistakable sound of footsteps, and not her own. Someone was coming.
Lyda began to panic. She could not tell from which direction the footsteps were coming, only that they were getting closer. Her head shot in all directions as if looking for somewhere else to go. To her surprise, her eyes rested on a large crack in the stone wall. Without thinking, Lyda rushed over and tried to squeeze her way into the crack. It was a tight fit, but she managed to force her way in far enough that no part of her body was sticking out. She clenched her teeth as the stone pressed against her head on both sides, struggling to remain as still and quiet as possible. That was when she saw it.
From out of the darkness, a figure was walking slowly down the corridor from the way Lyda had come herself. For a moment, she held her breath as she wondered if she was being followed, but struggled to suppress a sigh of relief as the figure did not so much as acknowledge her presence. As they passed in front of where she was hiding, Lyda was able to get a good look at them. The figure was covered head to toe in a dark gray cloak, stitched with a hexagonal design similar to the stone tiles of the floor. The hood of the cloak fell over the figure's face far enough that there could be no way they could see directly in front of them. The only parts that were visible to Lyda were the figure's hands, which were pale white and wrinkled as if they had been soaked for hours in hot water, and their fingernails were long and pointed. Soon, however, Lyda's attention was drawn away from the cloaked figure as her eyes fell upon the thing being dragged behind them.
Lyda's breath halted in her throat. The figure was dragging a young woman by a rope around her neck. She was naked and unconscious, but the strangest thing about her was that she did not appear to be dragged across the ground. Instead, she looked as though she was floating just above the stone with the rope doing nothing in the way of harm to her throat. Not only that, but her body was unmarked and did not show any signs of being attacked. Lyda did not know what to make of it, but the sight was sickening nonetheless, and she could not hold herself back as she let a quiet gasp.
The figure froze in its tracks. Lyda's breath ceased once again and her eyes widened as she was terrified that she may have given herself away. Nobody moved for a moment. The figure did not even so much as move its head, but to her relief, it began to move on again, taking the unconscious woman with.
Soon enough, the figure disappeared from sight, but the footsteps continued to echo throughout the corridor. Only when she was sure they were far enough away, Lyda pulled herself out of the crevice. She was surrounded by silence once again and unsure of what to do. For a moment, she had completely forgotten where she was. Her mind had gone blank. What had she even been looking for? Answers? To what questions? As far as she was concerned, she had seen more than enough already.
Suddenly, Lyda's eyes shot up at the sound of a shrill scream coming from somewhere down the corridor where the hooded figure had gone. Lyda could not move a muscle, and her heart pounded harder than ever as she heard the clapping of running footsteps rapidly approaching. She wanted to turn and run away, but she was too frightened at the moment to move.
Just then, Lyda watched as a woman emerged out of the darkness, running her way but looking over her shoulder. As soon as she appeared, she stumbled and fell forward onto the ground. Lyda could only stand where she was and stare. The woman looked up with a petrified expression, freezing only when her eyes fell upon Lyda. Clearly she could see her, but this thought was interrupted when Lyda realized that this was not the same unconscious woman she had just seen. Unlike the other, this woman's body appeared to be mutilated. All over her body, her flesh was marked by large spots like burns, as if somebody had been carving away at the skin with a hot spike and then continuing to carve deeper in layers. The most peculiar thing about these marks was that there looked as though something was glowing underneath the burned flesh; a faint light trying to peek its way out. Whatever the case, Lyda felt too sick to think anything at the very sight of the poor wretch on the ground in front of her.
"You-" the woman began to stammer in a raspy voice. "You're not one of them. Not one of us."
"W-what?" Lyda stuttered in response.
"You're still alive," the woman whispered under her breath. Lyda was at a loss for words. A distant commotion could suddenly be heard down the dark corridor, and the woman's eyes opened as wide as they would go. "Help me!" she cried as she stretched a mangled arm toward Lyda.
Lyda only stepped back in horror, as if afraid that touching her would pass on her affliction. "I think I'd like to wake up now," she murmured. She was not sure what she was expecting, but nothing happened at all.
"Please!" the woman continued to beg. "Don't let it take me!" She had barely finished her plea before she was suddenly dragged back down the dark corridor by a violent, invisible force.
Lyda's heart leaped from her chest as the charred woman screamed in terror. She continued to step back the way she came, hyperventilating with anxiety. "Wake up," she muttered, clenching her eyes shut and putting all her concentration on her desire to wake from this terrible dream. She opened her eyes, but to her great shock, she was still standing in the middle of the stone hallway, very much asleep. She felt no change in the dank atmosphere around her. She began to panic, forcing her eyes shut as tight as they would go. "Wake up!" she cried in desperation. "Please, wake up!"
A deep, horrific growl suddenly shot down the corridor, enveloping Lyda in a cloud of pure terror. She could not breathe as her jaw hung open. The air was getting heavier by the second, and soon Lyda feared that she would be too afraid to move. Her heart began to race again when more footsteps sounded from down the corridor. This time, they were many, and they were running her way. At that very moment, Lyda forgot everything she had desired to find in this self-inflicted nightmare. She forgot the sense of fortitude that she believed set her apart from her sister. Abandoning all of that, Lyda turned on her heels and ran back the way she had come as fast as she could.
She was so startled and focused on the sound of the encroaching footsteps behind her that she didn't realize she had been running for far longer than she had initially entered the corridor. Her panic began to skyrocket until she tripped, letting out a gasp as she stumbled forward violently. Lyda's eyes shut as she expected to land hard on the stone floor, but to her surprise, she fell face-first into a pool of the same mysterious substance through which she had walked. It was only about ankle deep this time, but Lyda's face had submerged into it long enough for the strong, rubbery scent to fill her nose. It made Lyda choke in disgust. She struggled to catch her breath as she lied within the shallow pool. The area was dimly lit, and this time she could make out the liquid. Lyda lifted her hand from the pool, closely examining the substance that dripped down her fingers. It was thick like molasses, silvery-gray in color but glistening with a faint glow as if from within. It immediately reminded her of the burns marring the woman's flesh, and the light that seemed to be seeping through. It was just then that Lyda noticed the voices starting up again. This time, they did not whisper. It sounded as though there were many voices screaming as if in torment. It was quiet and distant at first, but as they grew louder, it became clear to Lyda that they had been coming from this substance all along.
Lyda threw the thick liquid off her hand, whimpering in disgust and fear. The footsteps behind her were louder than ever, so much so that they were echoing all around her now. Lyda pulled herself up to her hands and knees and tried to scramble away. She crawled no more than a few feet, however, before she bumped into another stone wall blocking the way she had come. This didn't make any sense. Lyda ran her hands along the wall in disbelief. Something about this dream, this place, was preventing her from waking herself up, and now it had sealed off her only escape.
The footsteps were nearly on top of her now, and the screams from the liquid substance were deafening. Lyda could do nothing but huddle against the wall, curling herself into a ball, locking her eyes shut, and clamping her hands over her ears as she let out a scream of distress.
"HELP!!!"
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone