Midnight Arson (Platonic! Ranboo x Tubbo)

Chapter 8: The Set-Up (Part 2)

"Alright, Dream. Don't panic," the criminal mastermind whispered. The man stood in the corner of his jail cell, bent over his sink. Calloused fingers held the side of the cauldron in a vice-like grip, his knuckles turning white. His body was rigid, tense and taut with stress. The man forced himself to take a deep, cleansing breath, but all that came was a hollow, shaky inhale. He couldn't calm down.

A few hours ago, maybe a few days ago- he didn't know anymore, Dream had found himself lying on the floor of a strange, obsidian room. When he had checked his surroundings, the only forms of furniture he could find were in the far left corner of the room. A bright glowstone light hung above a wooden chest, illuminating the dark, depressing space.

Dream had investigated the contents of the chest and found stacks of empty journals, along with ink bottles and feathered quill pens. Huh. Someone really likes to write books, he noted. His eyes fell to the bookcase just beside the chest, packed to the brim with journals. Maybe the journals can tell me where I am or how I got here.

Dream had taken one of the many books crammed into the shelves, and began flipping through the pages. What the-? None of it made any sense. The entire book seemed to be written in a language he didn't understood, nor did he recognize. Were the people that lived here aliens? Had he been abducted?

Dream had placed the book back on the shelf, and continued to examine his surroundings. Adjacent to the bookcase sat a table and a cauldron. Curious as to what was inside the cauldron, Dream had peered past the brim, and he'd yelped, stumbling back only to fall on the floor. The cauldron had been filled with water, and he had seen the most disturbing face he'd ever seen. Was that really him?

His fingers had flown up to confirm the horrible truth, but was surprised when they met wood instead of skin. Slowly, the man slid his fingers over his features- there was something on his face: a mask of sorts. Once Dream was finally able to remove the mask, he had taken it into his hands to stare down at the foreign object. Upon seeing the front design, Dream had let loose a terrified scream- it was monstrous.

The mask was in rough shape, covered in harsh scratches and deep indentations. Two thin slits marked the holes for his eyes, and a crudely carved smile had sent a chill down his spine. But what had truly petrified Dream were the splatters of dried blood coating the mask in a constellation of violence. What have I done?

Forgotten memories had suddenly rushed into Dream's consciousness, bringing everything from the past year back to light. I started wars. I destroyed a nation. Denial had plagued his mind soon after, discrediting what had flashed before his eyes just moments ago. That couldn't have been me, right? There's no way- no freaking way, that I did all that. But he had to be sure.

Presently, Dream stood before the cauldron, preparing to confirm his reflection. If the man in the water matched the one in his head, the one that had launched the server into chaos, then he'd believe. "This is it. You can do this. Just one look, and it's all over." With a final cleansing breath, Dream dared himself to peer into the water. The man slumped his shoulders in defeat. The tyrant in his dreams had been him all along.

Well, well, well, what have we here?? A confused innocent, or a delusional criminal??

We'll find out soon! Vote to send Dream another memory! :]

And as, always, thank you for the love and support on this story everyone. Y'all are kinder than words can express. <333

[Image Credits] "Silhouette" (Cropped Slightly) by Steven Roberge (https://flickr.com/photos/kangirsuk/3702373905)