Even her wildest imaginings would not have been sufficient to dream up such a nightmare-fueled monstrosity as the one she had just willingly entered. A simple and quiet life does not lend itself to learning of the darkness that exists in this world, so she is wholly unprepared for what she might encounter. As a result, it is not true bravery that sends her forward, but rather an incredible and almost enviable naivete to the truth of what exists beyond her small understanding.
It is hope and a youthful belief in the good around her that propels her, but it proves little protection in the face of true terror.
At first the nightmares highlighted by ghostly flashes of purple-white light do not seem so awful. They are almost tame, like the toll she had given to shield her entry into this place. The dreams of children who haven’t yet tasted the horrors of the world. But the further she flies, the darker those brief glimpses become. As images of blood and death flare around her, an acrid taste begins to coat the back of her tongue, her rainbow eyes growing rounder with each passing flash.
Until she sees monsters unlike any she has ever known. Except, these are not monsters like she would have imagined, creepy and misshapen and wholly evil in appearance (there are those too - they abound in this realm of nightmares - but they are not the monsters that surprise her). No, these unimaginable monsters look exactly like any horse she might meet in the meadow. Those are the monsters that send a true chill running down her spine, because if she saw them in her everyday life, she never would have guessed.
Yet here they are, drawn from the darkest corners to play in the light, covered in blood and reveling in misery. As she watches flames consume a stranger, eyes wide with horror as her heart threatens to burst from her chest, she knows she will never look at the world the same again.
For a moment, the nightmare is like all the others she has seen so far. She fully expects it to disappear with the next flash, but it lingers instead. It lingers, revealing a monster who could have been anyone. If it were not for the flat eyes that watched the stranger burn with such dispassion, she might have thought they were nothing more than a hapless passerby, staring on with as much helpless horror as she.
When the monster’s gaze turns to her, she recoils almost instinctively. He could not possibly see her, a voyeur reliving a terror not her own, but the way his eyes linger make her question her own sanity. She should be flying away as fast as she possibly can, but she can’t seem to tear her gaze from the nightmare. She can feel it reaching, grasping, wanting. Waiting to swallow her whole.
It’s only when she begins to feel the phantom crawl of burning pain across her flesh that reality reclaims its grip on her. Fear causes her wings to seize, and for a single heart-stopping moment, she is falling. Just as abruptly, she is freed from the nightmare’s pull. Instinct has her snapping her dark wings wide to halt her descent.
Sucking in desperate breaths, Illis surges forward. Despite the way her entire body refuses to stop trembling, she presses on. She is no longer feeling brave, no longer filled with unearned confidence. She wants little more than to flee, but she would not risk passing that beast again. The only way out is forward, to the eye of the storm. So forward she goes, white-rimmed eyes darting (and perhaps a little bit mad) as she tries to avoid seeing any more of those treacherous tolls.
illis