Dreams of the Fallen (Page 1)Mature



Bain sat in an arena. Around him lay hundreds of bones, along with weapons of varying types. A spear in the ground there, an ax laying on a pile of bones here, and dozens, possibly even hundreds, of other armaments across the rest of the place. The arena pews were empty and the walls surrounding it were broken and shattered, leaving Bain able to see the eternal darkness beyond them.

Slowly, Bain stood. He found himself void of clothing, but felt no surprise. Where was he? This looked nothing like the small arena they used for jousting tournaments. It was much larger. But... Why was Bain here? 

Why was he here?

Why was he here?

Why was he here?

Why are you here?

Bain fell back in shock. That last thought... wasn't his own. It sounded ancient, as if from an elderly man or even a ghost. Was Bain being possessed then? Or had he already been possessed?

A figure appeared before Bain. It was an old man, only his eyes were far too sunken and his skin far too pale. He seemed like the image of Death. He was cloaked in black mist, which Bain felt as if it were normal, and had a crooked smile on his face. Why was it that this man seemed so familiar? Had Bain met him before?

"Wh.. who are you?" Bain asked tentatively. He felt as if he should either run or bow, yet his pride prevented both, so he stood to face the short figure instead. Fear laced his body the moment his body straightened. Bain noticed the man before him was not looking at him any longer.

"You should be more concerned with him," the ancient voice said slowly. Bain followed those sunken eyes to a large figure off in the distance.

Bain's breath caught. 

The figure, clad in massive silver ornate armor and holding a familiar ax, was none other than Lord Gerome. The man who had taught Bain to fight as a child. The man who had provided for Bain. The man who had been called a genius of the battle field and unmatched in single combat.

It was Bain's father.

The End

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