Chapter 31
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Lemor
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Chapter 31
Several days. It took another few days for the much-needed blood to appear in a mug on the counter.
It was not red.
Having undergone the purification process by my dear new client, the colour of the blood had lightened considerably. The scent emanating from it differed as well: it smelled not only of iron but of certain herbs and other... let us call it "alchemy."
Moreover, this was no mere purified blood of some random beast. Perhaps "extract" would be the most fitting term for the sludge before me. The exact number of beasts caught in the depths of the labyrinths by my dear clients remained unknown, but I could say with certainty that the mug contained the drained essence of not one, but possibly dozens of monsters.
In the best and most fortunate of circumstances, this concoction would agonizingly kill an ordinary—or even extraordinary—human. Iosefka had nervously warned of this several times, and she certainly was not dissembling: the blood in the mug seemed alive, trembling from the otherworldly will seeping from it. It felt as if a small rift into the Dream Realm lay within the mug, and even the barrier erected by Rom could not entirely cut off the influence of... this upon the world.
Yet, for me, this was no dangerous filth, but a chance—if not to significantly expand my capabilities, then at least to brush against the power of the Great Ones with the very edge of my sand.
Now, truly, I felt this with every fibre of my soul.
"Could it be that she deceived you?"
"Impossible," I smiled. "I am her patient."
She would not harm a patient even if her life depended on it. Such a flattering assessment clearly touched something in Maria's soul: unlike her, the doctor had not failed. However, the girl decided against developing the topic, switching to a more pressing one.
"Will this eliminate the root of the problem, Arthur?"
The question, full of curiosity and unconcealed concern, made me shake my head.
It was already a miracle that a practically ordinary human could kill the alien will within the blood without losing the qualities of the blood itself! And how could such a treasure be given away so easily? Lords of Dreams, the ability to sell one's talents is worth no less than the talents themselves. Without the ability to sell a talent, its utility is negligible.
"It will not fully save me from a potential fall, but it will certainly mitigate the risks," I replied after a brief silence. "In any case, we are out of time regardless. I have already done everything within my power."
A moment later, the purified blood entered my system.
I swallowed in large gulps, trying to finish every last drop before something deep within could react to the surge of power. I set the mug down and closed my eyes, blocking out the repulsive, caustic flavour that was so pungent my jaw simply went numb.
Unfortunately, this was only the beginning.
For the first time since partaking of the blood, a burning heat flared in my chest. Intense, painful—a guttural wheeze escaped me. A visceral sound, like a wounded beast. My legs gave way; I clutched my chest, feeling my heart begin to race. Iosefka had mentioned a slow heartbeat. Well, for a short while at least, I had resolved that problem without any interventions: the heart turned into a drum played by a true professional.
Thump, thump, thump, thump,
Bam-bam-bam-bam-bam...
My condition worsened, and regrettably, this did not escape the notice of little Lily, who came running, or the agitated Thalamus.
Perhaps the girl should have been sent away, but sending her anywhere else felt too dangerous. Maria's voice in my head, along with all other sounds, was drowned out by the pounding of my heart, and as it turned out, even this was not the limit.
A strange sensation washed over me. Visions began to form before my bloodshot eyes.
I saw raging seas and oceans. Depths humanity had yet to descend to. The boundless cosmos, so native yet simultaneously alien to the Great Ones.
My guesses regarding the nature of the unimaginable beings were confirmed: mere cosmic creatures drifting through dreams, somehow surfacing in the depths of seas and oceans. All human theories regarding their nature were simultaneously erroneous and correct: they belonged to the dream, the sea, and the cosmos. Born in the dream, wandering the cosmos, surfacing from the ocean depths.
The physical world receded, yet I could still feel the joy with which the slugs crawled over me. Hiding within the walls of the pub, they emerged, and I barely had enough strength to ask Lily and Thalamus not to remove them. They were helping somehow. They were not called the companions and familiars of the Great Ones for nothing.
However, while the Phantasm slugs posed no problem, there was something carrying significantly more risk, from which I could not escape even if I desired. Throughout the entire process, the projection of the Great Amygdala watched me. It reached out with tentacles that only I could see, examining and studying me. I had expected this. I made no attempt to hide, confident in my earlier conclusions.
Moreover, the visions granted me something. Something seemingly insignificant, yet simultaneously—insanely valuable.
I came to myself only toward nightfall.
A weight pressed upon my chest: little Lily had fallen asleep right there, hugging me tightly. Nearby I felt the spark of Thalamus's consciousness, keeping watch. A single short mental impulse was enough for the flower to understand that all was well, rewarding me with waves of... floral joy. I winced, unaccustomed to such vivid and alien emotions. My senses had sharpened significantly, making it difficult to say whether this was a good sign or a bad one.
"You may be dismissed. Thank you."
The Phantasm slugs, still crawling over me, seemed to be waiting only for this command, dissolving into immateriality. Marvellous creatures, indeed. Their very existence, not counting the immortal hunters, already gave me a hint on how to return Maria to the mater---
"Your skin has grown even paler, good Sandman..."
Something touched my cheek. Practically intangible, I had to make an effort to realise it was a hand. My eyes widened, refusing to believe what was happening.
"I... am I not dreaming?.."
To such genuine and unconcealed bewilderment—which she was likely seeing from me for the first time—Maria merely smiled.
"I am surprised myself, Arthur..."
Her voice echoed. She sat directly opposite me, yet simultaneously seemed to be... somewhere else. In my dream. She remained there. But with a small nuance.
"I see..."
Careful not to wake the soundly sleeping Lily, I gently raised my hand and swept it through the space. Lords of Dreams, fate had allowed me to glimpse something wondrous, truly fantastic.
At first, I didn't even notice how light and ethereal I felt. The body seemed surprisingly malleable, somehow familiarly quicksand-like, even if the sensation was more phantom. For now. I had known this would happen. Yet the scale of the changes was still beyond imagining.
I moved my hand carefully through the air, as if submerging it in familiar sand. Feeling the resistance, I overcame it, and saw the results: quicksand-like ripples spread through the space. The world began to bend in a small area around me. I closed my eyes, listening to my sensations. For now, the area of influence was relatively small. But it would undoubtedly grow.
"And the dream shall become reality," I observed thoughtfully. I turned my head toward Maria's projection. "How do you feel?"
The girl pondered briefly.
"I see you as if through murky water, good Sandman."
How curious.
"Can you... return?"
As it turned out, Maria had initially simply wanted to temporarily seize control of my body to... let us say, carry it to rest. But instead of the usual awakening within the body, she practically tumbled out, severely frightening both Lily and Thalamus.
Lily knew of Maria, of course—but the same could not be said for the flower. Fortunately, everything was resolved rather quickly and I was safely carried to the bed.
Maria could fairly freely sink back into the pub or "climb" out, but was incapable of moving far. Furthermore, interacting with physical objects was quite difficult for her. My body was more the exception that proved the rule.
If she wished, she could influence the physical world, but it required immense effort, and Maria admitted that simply being in such a state exhausted her. A couple of experiments showed that my newfound power could compensate for her weakness, effectively allowing the girl to roam the physical world almost freely for short periods—but it was highly likely an ordinary person would not see her. And even an extraordinary one.
I strongly doubted that the hunters chosen by Flora existed in such a manner. I already had a theory regarding the form of existence of the slugs, and it was the preferred method to return Maria to the world of the living, but apparently other mechanisms existed that could also help return her to this mortal dark fantasy. The discovery significantly altered my laid-out plans and required further thought.
Unfortunately, no one intended to give me much time for thought. It took tremendous effort to maintain my composure.
"Return, Maria."
"I would... like to hold the Rakuyo again," she confessed hesitantly.
"Not now."
I could see and feel that she wanted to say much more, but my tone brooked no argument. The girl nodded and vanished.
Maintaining an outward calm, I carefully rose. Of course, this could not help but wake Lily, yet...
"Later, little one."
She only managed to stare in surprise before her eyes rolled back, sent to dream a bright, happy dream. Once up, I put the girl to bed and headed toward the exit of the pub.
The street was empty.
Absolutely empty.
Not a single living soul, not a single lamp lit, and even the projection of Amygdala... She was nowhere nearby, which was far more frightening than her constant presence. I saw no one. No one was around. Yet an oppressive feeling of presence arose. Somewhere very close, right nearby. It was everywhere. Above, below, behind, in front. It was everything and it was nothing. No matter how much I looked around or tried to peer as deeply into the Dream Realm as possible—there was nothing. I simply could not see it, only knew that something was near.
A simple yet terrifying thought formed in my mind:
"The Moon Presence was cautious for good reason."
A chill ran through me; I glanced back, but saw nothing.
Unfortunately, it decided to announce itself differently. A voice arose in my mind. Indecipherable, distant, capable of dangerously pushing even me to the brink. It was no human tongue. No living creature could produce such a sound. The sound emanated from the very depths of the Dream Realm, and I was certain it wanted to reach out, but simply could not. The veil played a minor role here. The matter lay elsewhere.
The beast was simply so heavy with its own power that it could not surface.
"Formless Oedon," I stated with outward calm.
Practically nothing was known of this entity from the game.
Only one thing tied it to the other Great Ones: every Great One loses its child, and then yearns for a surrogate, and Oedon, the formless Great One, is no exception. That was what the entity did in the game. Precisely through this, the player gains the opportunity to acquire a third of an umbilical cord and then ascend to a Great One to oppose the Moon Presence. But that provided no answers as to who and what Formless Oedon was. And, most importantly, what its intentions were.
Amygdala preferred observation and study. The Moon Presence strove to manifest its body. The artificial Great One, created from the Byrgenwerth student, held the barrier between worlds. Ebrietas... Another artificial Great One, a former Pthumerian who never mastered her powers. Broken, drowned in despair—I could feel it even when I entered Amelia's dream.
What of Oedon? Unclear. Truth be told, the fact that the player did not fight it or interact with it in any way brought rather grim thoughts. Regrettably, those thoughts proved correct.
"You should not be here, Sandman..."
The monstrous voice arose in my consciousness once more. A cold wind swept through the street. I saw no one, but felt something try to reach out again. And fail again. Only this time, it decided to change strategy, acting in the most vile and terrible way possible.
The blood moon had not yet arrived, but I felt the approaching scent of rotten fish again. The chime of bells echoed in my head. I dashed back into the pub, locked it, and dropped to the floor almost instantly, disregarding my physical body: I needed to fall asleep immediately.
Formless Oedon had not only sensed me, but had guided the Orphan straight to the doors of my dream. Shown it a direct path, eliminating all obstacles.
I became aware of myself in the pub within my dream, managing only to see the fleeting, distorted shadow of the Orphan already standing opposite a calm Maria, who seemed to have been waiting for such an outcome all along. The girl turned to me, smiling. My power reached for the dead Great One, and I was undeniably far from defenceless—but it was too late: obviously, the Orphan had drawn its own conclusions. Or someone had offered it guidance.
A moment, and the Orphan of Kos vanishes, taking Maria with it into the depths of its nightmare.
Morning brought exceptionally foul weather. Heavy rain poured; it was cold outside. As if enchanted, ignoring Thalamus reaching out and expanding to fill the pub, I went through my usual morning ablutions.
Maria had been right: my skin had indeed grown paler. Not so much that it was overly conspicuous, but one could definitely say I rarely saw sunlight, evidently preferring some watery depths. The need for a razor had vanished: without conscious desire, facial hair would no longer appear on my body.
That, however, was not the main issue.
"The light..." I murmured, stepping closer to the mirror, looking into my own eyes.
I barely felt it. Almost nothing. And I knew it was not the purified Old Blood to blame.
Usually, cleaning brought me pleasure. There was something meditative about it, a reminder of my first days in this world and the vivid feelings I experienced then. The material world was, after all, much more real and whole than the world of dreams. Regrettably, it now evoked no emotions in me. There was an emptiness in my soul.
After cleaning, I prepared breakfast for Lily and myself. The little one woke up just as the food was ready. At first she was glad I was up, but that joy lasted only a moment. Perhaps my gaze was too eloquent. Or maybe I still poorly controlled the increased power, and something, breaking through the barrier, screamed of what was happening in my soul. Emptiness could be much more terrifying than ordinary madness.
Lily grew frightened.
"You need not be afraid, little one," I said in the most ordinary of voices. "Sit, eat."
Though many in this world would have called Lily's illusion a fully grown woman, she remained but a child to me. A child whose heart awoke with fear from a single glance, a fear she tried with all her might to suppress, obediently sitting at the small table.
"Father... father... what... what happened..."
My gaze dropped to the fried egg.
"The Orphan reached its goal."
My voice sounded utterly routine and ordinary, as if sharing a random piece of news. Just a trivial event no one cared about. Lily understood. Her illusion began to distort, revealing her true form.
"F-father..."
"Focus on your food," I replied briefly.
I knew what needed to be done. Returning Maria was still possible. But the realisation that a dead Great One, due to my weakness, would plunge her into a terrible nightmare from which I had failed to protect her...
A spirit of light. I was supposed to send happy dreams and protect souls from the dark, but instead I had merely begun a rapid descent into darkness myself, failing even to protect a soul dear to me.
My light was fading not only because of consuming the blood of ancient monsters from the depths of nightmares. Not only because the people chanting my name saw not a positive figure, but a beast that sent good dreams. Vile, terrible, base, good Sandman—that is what they see. That is what I saw in myself. Saw. My confidence was undermined, trampled, crushed.
"I was mistaken..." I murmured. "I need to think, Lily..."
I rose from the table without finishing the meal and waved my hand; the remaining food scattered into particles of sand.
For spirits, it is primarily important that others see the light within us.
We feed on thoughts, and feelings, striving toward the light or the dark. But that applies mostly to weak spirits, whose existence is so implicit that an alien will can easily reshape their essence. I had perceived the Great Ones as insanely powerful nightmares, yet they showed no hint of what was happening to me as I sank into the darkness. I had thought this was due to their unique nature and age, but now that seemed only partially true—and I had long since arrived at the real answer:
They simply were not "evil" in the usual sense of the word. Nor did they consider themselves so.
By sinking into negative thoughts and feelings, experiencing cold in our souls, we ourselves strive toward darkness and carry it within us.
And we change.
By sinking into positive emotions and feelings, experiencing warmth in our souls, we ourselves move toward light and carry it within us.
And we change.
I had failed, and the very realisation of that failure affected me so strongly it extinguished the light within me even further. The stronger I became, the more my own thoughts and aspirations determined who and what I was. They could see me as anyone or anything, and only I decided whether to agree or not; to sink into the darkness coming from outside, or conversely—to reject it and continue reaching for the light. The world gave me a choice that had never existed before.
Or perhaps I had been desperately hoping to believe it hadn't.
Soon the pub opened for business. The door opened with the chime of the bell; cold air instantly penetrated inside, bringing the sound of rain. A familiar huntress crossed the threshold. Wearing the mask that linked her to plague doctors, she made no haste to remove it, deciding to begin the conversation differently:
"I have a... task," the woman rasped. She didn't seem to fully believe her own words. "I have come to help you, Sandman..."
I raised my eyebrows.
I had been certain that only disagreements awaited me with the Moon Presence. Ultimately, it was the one calling forth the blood moon, and largely by its will the Orphan enjoyed such freedom—not to mention everything else—but... It seemed that, for whatever reasons, a short, mutually beneficial cooperation between us might exist. And I was ready to gladly accept any help offered.
After all, I still needed to deliver the Rakuyo to Maria.
Several days. It took another few days for the much-needed blood to appear in a mug on the counter.
It was not red.
Having undergone the purification process by my dear new client, the colour of the blood had lightened considerably. The scent emanating from it differed as well: it smelled not only of iron but of certain herbs and other... let us call it "alchemy."
Moreover, this was no mere purified blood of some random beast. Perhaps "extract" would be the most fitting term for the sludge before me. The exact number of beasts caught in the depths of the labyrinths by my dear clients remained unknown, but I could say with certainty that the mug contained the drained essence of not one, but possibly dozens of monsters.
In the best and most fortunate of circumstances, this concoction would agonizingly kill an ordinary—or even extraordinary—human. Iosefka had nervously warned of this several times, and she certainly was not dissembling: the blood in the mug seemed alive, trembling from the otherworldly will seeping from it. It felt as if a small rift into the Dream Realm lay within the mug, and even the barrier erected by Rom could not entirely cut off the influence of... this upon the world.
Yet, for me, this was no dangerous filth, but a chance—if not to significantly expand my capabilities, then at least to brush against the power of the Great Ones with the very edge of my sand.
Now, truly, I felt this with every fibre of my soul.
"Could it be that she deceived you?"
"Impossible," I smiled. "I am her patient."
She would not harm a patient even if her life depended on it. Such a flattering assessment clearly touched something in Maria's soul: unlike her, the doctor had not failed. However, the girl decided against developing the topic, switching to a more pressing one.
"Will this eliminate the root of the problem, Arthur?"
The question, full of curiosity and unconcealed concern, made me shake my head.
It was already a miracle that a practically ordinary human could kill the alien will within the blood without losing the qualities of the blood itself! And how could such a treasure be given away so easily? Lords of Dreams, the ability to sell one's talents is worth no less than the talents themselves. Without the ability to sell a talent, its utility is negligible.
"It will not fully save me from a potential fall, but it will certainly mitigate the risks," I replied after a brief silence. "In any case, we are out of time regardless. I have already done everything within my power."
A moment later, the purified blood entered my system.
I swallowed in large gulps, trying to finish every last drop before something deep within could react to the surge of power. I set the mug down and closed my eyes, blocking out the repulsive, caustic flavour that was so pungent my jaw simply went numb.
Unfortunately, this was only the beginning.
For the first time since partaking of the blood, a burning heat flared in my chest. Intense, painful—a guttural wheeze escaped me. A visceral sound, like a wounded beast. My legs gave way; I clutched my chest, feeling my heart begin to race. Iosefka had mentioned a slow heartbeat. Well, for a short while at least, I had resolved that problem without any interventions: the heart turned into a drum played by a true professional.
Thump, thump, thump, thump,
Bam-bam-bam-bam-bam...
My condition worsened, and regrettably, this did not escape the notice of little Lily, who came running, or the agitated Thalamus.
Perhaps the girl should have been sent away, but sending her anywhere else felt too dangerous. Maria's voice in my head, along with all other sounds, was drowned out by the pounding of my heart, and as it turned out, even this was not the limit.
A strange sensation washed over me. Visions began to form before my bloodshot eyes.
I saw raging seas and oceans. Depths humanity had yet to descend to. The boundless cosmos, so native yet simultaneously alien to the Great Ones.
My guesses regarding the nature of the unimaginable beings were confirmed: mere cosmic creatures drifting through dreams, somehow surfacing in the depths of seas and oceans. All human theories regarding their nature were simultaneously erroneous and correct: they belonged to the dream, the sea, and the cosmos. Born in the dream, wandering the cosmos, surfacing from the ocean depths.
The physical world receded, yet I could still feel the joy with which the slugs crawled over me. Hiding within the walls of the pub, they emerged, and I barely had enough strength to ask Lily and Thalamus not to remove them. They were helping somehow. They were not called the companions and familiars of the Great Ones for nothing.
However, while the Phantasm slugs posed no problem, there was something carrying significantly more risk, from which I could not escape even if I desired. Throughout the entire process, the projection of the Great Amygdala watched me. It reached out with tentacles that only I could see, examining and studying me. I had expected this. I made no attempt to hide, confident in my earlier conclusions.
Moreover, the visions granted me something. Something seemingly insignificant, yet simultaneously—insanely valuable.
I came to myself only toward nightfall.
A weight pressed upon my chest: little Lily had fallen asleep right there, hugging me tightly. Nearby I felt the spark of Thalamus's consciousness, keeping watch. A single short mental impulse was enough for the flower to understand that all was well, rewarding me with waves of... floral joy. I winced, unaccustomed to such vivid and alien emotions. My senses had sharpened significantly, making it difficult to say whether this was a good sign or a bad one.
"You may be dismissed. Thank you."
The Phantasm slugs, still crawling over me, seemed to be waiting only for this command, dissolving into immateriality. Marvellous creatures, indeed. Their very existence, not counting the immortal hunters, already gave me a hint on how to return Maria to the mater---
"Your skin has grown even paler, good Sandman..."
Something touched my cheek. Practically intangible, I had to make an effort to realise it was a hand. My eyes widened, refusing to believe what was happening.
"I... am I not dreaming?.."
To such genuine and unconcealed bewilderment—which she was likely seeing from me for the first time—Maria merely smiled.
"I am surprised myself, Arthur..."
Her voice echoed. She sat directly opposite me, yet simultaneously seemed to be... somewhere else. In my dream. She remained there. But with a small nuance.
"I see..."
Careful not to wake the soundly sleeping Lily, I gently raised my hand and swept it through the space. Lords of Dreams, fate had allowed me to glimpse something wondrous, truly fantastic.
At first, I didn't even notice how light and ethereal I felt. The body seemed surprisingly malleable, somehow familiarly quicksand-like, even if the sensation was more phantom. For now. I had known this would happen. Yet the scale of the changes was still beyond imagining.
I moved my hand carefully through the air, as if submerging it in familiar sand. Feeling the resistance, I overcame it, and saw the results: quicksand-like ripples spread through the space. The world began to bend in a small area around me. I closed my eyes, listening to my sensations. For now, the area of influence was relatively small. But it would undoubtedly grow.
"And the dream shall become reality," I observed thoughtfully. I turned my head toward Maria's projection. "How do you feel?"
The girl pondered briefly.
"I see you as if through murky water, good Sandman."
How curious.
"Can you... return?"
As it turned out, Maria had initially simply wanted to temporarily seize control of my body to... let us say, carry it to rest. But instead of the usual awakening within the body, she practically tumbled out, severely frightening both Lily and Thalamus.
Lily knew of Maria, of course—but the same could not be said for the flower. Fortunately, everything was resolved rather quickly and I was safely carried to the bed.
Maria could fairly freely sink back into the pub or "climb" out, but was incapable of moving far. Furthermore, interacting with physical objects was quite difficult for her. My body was more the exception that proved the rule.
If she wished, she could influence the physical world, but it required immense effort, and Maria admitted that simply being in such a state exhausted her. A couple of experiments showed that my newfound power could compensate for her weakness, effectively allowing the girl to roam the physical world almost freely for short periods—but it was highly likely an ordinary person would not see her. And even an extraordinary one.
I strongly doubted that the hunters chosen by Flora existed in such a manner. I already had a theory regarding the form of existence of the slugs, and it was the preferred method to return Maria to the world of the living, but apparently other mechanisms existed that could also help return her to this mortal dark fantasy. The discovery significantly altered my laid-out plans and required further thought.
Unfortunately, no one intended to give me much time for thought. It took tremendous effort to maintain my composure.
"Return, Maria."
"I would... like to hold the Rakuyo again," she confessed hesitantly.
"Not now."
I could see and feel that she wanted to say much more, but my tone brooked no argument. The girl nodded and vanished.
Maintaining an outward calm, I carefully rose. Of course, this could not help but wake Lily, yet...
"Later, little one."
She only managed to stare in surprise before her eyes rolled back, sent to dream a bright, happy dream. Once up, I put the girl to bed and headed toward the exit of the pub.
The street was empty.
Absolutely empty.
Not a single living soul, not a single lamp lit, and even the projection of Amygdala... She was nowhere nearby, which was far more frightening than her constant presence. I saw no one. No one was around. Yet an oppressive feeling of presence arose. Somewhere very close, right nearby. It was everywhere. Above, below, behind, in front. It was everything and it was nothing. No matter how much I looked around or tried to peer as deeply into the Dream Realm as possible—there was nothing. I simply could not see it, only knew that something was near.
A simple yet terrifying thought formed in my mind:
"The Moon Presence was cautious for good reason."
A chill ran through me; I glanced back, but saw nothing.
Unfortunately, it decided to announce itself differently. A voice arose in my mind. Indecipherable, distant, capable of dangerously pushing even me to the brink. It was no human tongue. No living creature could produce such a sound. The sound emanated from the very depths of the Dream Realm, and I was certain it wanted to reach out, but simply could not. The veil played a minor role here. The matter lay elsewhere.
The beast was simply so heavy with its own power that it could not surface.
"Formless Oedon," I stated with outward calm.
Practically nothing was known of this entity from the game.
Only one thing tied it to the other Great Ones: every Great One loses its child, and then yearns for a surrogate, and Oedon, the formless Great One, is no exception. That was what the entity did in the game. Precisely through this, the player gains the opportunity to acquire a third of an umbilical cord and then ascend to a Great One to oppose the Moon Presence. But that provided no answers as to who and what Formless Oedon was. And, most importantly, what its intentions were.
Amygdala preferred observation and study. The Moon Presence strove to manifest its body. The artificial Great One, created from the Byrgenwerth student, held the barrier between worlds. Ebrietas... Another artificial Great One, a former Pthumerian who never mastered her powers. Broken, drowned in despair—I could feel it even when I entered Amelia's dream.
What of Oedon? Unclear. Truth be told, the fact that the player did not fight it or interact with it in any way brought rather grim thoughts. Regrettably, those thoughts proved correct.
"You should not be here, Sandman..."
The monstrous voice arose in my consciousness once more. A cold wind swept through the street. I saw no one, but felt something try to reach out again. And fail again. Only this time, it decided to change strategy, acting in the most vile and terrible way possible.
The blood moon had not yet arrived, but I felt the approaching scent of rotten fish again. The chime of bells echoed in my head. I dashed back into the pub, locked it, and dropped to the floor almost instantly, disregarding my physical body: I needed to fall asleep immediately.
Formless Oedon had not only sensed me, but had guided the Orphan straight to the doors of my dream. Shown it a direct path, eliminating all obstacles.
I became aware of myself in the pub within my dream, managing only to see the fleeting, distorted shadow of the Orphan already standing opposite a calm Maria, who seemed to have been waiting for such an outcome all along. The girl turned to me, smiling. My power reached for the dead Great One, and I was undeniably far from defenceless—but it was too late: obviously, the Orphan had drawn its own conclusions. Or someone had offered it guidance.
A moment, and the Orphan of Kos vanishes, taking Maria with it into the depths of its nightmare.
***
Morning brought exceptionally foul weather. Heavy rain poured; it was cold outside. As if enchanted, ignoring Thalamus reaching out and expanding to fill the pub, I went through my usual morning ablutions.
Maria had been right: my skin had indeed grown paler. Not so much that it was overly conspicuous, but one could definitely say I rarely saw sunlight, evidently preferring some watery depths. The need for a razor had vanished: without conscious desire, facial hair would no longer appear on my body.
That, however, was not the main issue.
"The light..." I murmured, stepping closer to the mirror, looking into my own eyes.
I barely felt it. Almost nothing. And I knew it was not the purified Old Blood to blame.
Usually, cleaning brought me pleasure. There was something meditative about it, a reminder of my first days in this world and the vivid feelings I experienced then. The material world was, after all, much more real and whole than the world of dreams. Regrettably, it now evoked no emotions in me. There was an emptiness in my soul.
After cleaning, I prepared breakfast for Lily and myself. The little one woke up just as the food was ready. At first she was glad I was up, but that joy lasted only a moment. Perhaps my gaze was too eloquent. Or maybe I still poorly controlled the increased power, and something, breaking through the barrier, screamed of what was happening in my soul. Emptiness could be much more terrifying than ordinary madness.
Lily grew frightened.
"You need not be afraid, little one," I said in the most ordinary of voices. "Sit, eat."
Though many in this world would have called Lily's illusion a fully grown woman, she remained but a child to me. A child whose heart awoke with fear from a single glance, a fear she tried with all her might to suppress, obediently sitting at the small table.
"Father... father... what... what happened..."
My gaze dropped to the fried egg.
"The Orphan reached its goal."
My voice sounded utterly routine and ordinary, as if sharing a random piece of news. Just a trivial event no one cared about. Lily understood. Her illusion began to distort, revealing her true form.
"F-father..."
"Focus on your food," I replied briefly.
I knew what needed to be done. Returning Maria was still possible. But the realisation that a dead Great One, due to my weakness, would plunge her into a terrible nightmare from which I had failed to protect her...
A spirit of light. I was supposed to send happy dreams and protect souls from the dark, but instead I had merely begun a rapid descent into darkness myself, failing even to protect a soul dear to me.
My light was fading not only because of consuming the blood of ancient monsters from the depths of nightmares. Not only because the people chanting my name saw not a positive figure, but a beast that sent good dreams. Vile, terrible, base, good Sandman—that is what they see. That is what I saw in myself. Saw. My confidence was undermined, trampled, crushed.
"I was mistaken..." I murmured. "I need to think, Lily..."
I rose from the table without finishing the meal and waved my hand; the remaining food scattered into particles of sand.
For spirits, it is primarily important that others see the light within us.
We feed on thoughts, and feelings, striving toward the light or the dark. But that applies mostly to weak spirits, whose existence is so implicit that an alien will can easily reshape their essence. I had perceived the Great Ones as insanely powerful nightmares, yet they showed no hint of what was happening to me as I sank into the darkness. I had thought this was due to their unique nature and age, but now that seemed only partially true—and I had long since arrived at the real answer:
They simply were not "evil" in the usual sense of the word. Nor did they consider themselves so.
By sinking into negative thoughts and feelings, experiencing cold in our souls, we ourselves strive toward darkness and carry it within us.
And we change.
By sinking into positive emotions and feelings, experiencing warmth in our souls, we ourselves move toward light and carry it within us.
And we change.
I had failed, and the very realisation of that failure affected me so strongly it extinguished the light within me even further. The stronger I became, the more my own thoughts and aspirations determined who and what I was. They could see me as anyone or anything, and only I decided whether to agree or not; to sink into the darkness coming from outside, or conversely—to reject it and continue reaching for the light. The world gave me a choice that had never existed before.
Or perhaps I had been desperately hoping to believe it hadn't.
Soon the pub opened for business. The door opened with the chime of the bell; cold air instantly penetrated inside, bringing the sound of rain. A familiar huntress crossed the threshold. Wearing the mask that linked her to plague doctors, she made no haste to remove it, deciding to begin the conversation differently:
"I have a... task," the woman rasped. She didn't seem to fully believe her own words. "I have come to help you, Sandman..."
I raised my eyebrows.
I had been certain that only disagreements awaited me with the Moon Presence. Ultimately, it was the one calling forth the blood moon, and largely by its will the Orphan enjoyed such freedom—not to mention everything else—but... It seemed that, for whatever reasons, a short, mutually beneficial cooperation between us might exist. And I was ready to gladly accept any help offered.
After all, I still needed to deliver the Rakuyo to Maria.
