Fear

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Dreams were an uncommon thing to the Monkey King. It wasn't as though he forced them away or denied them. He just didn't have them normally.

It wasn't uncommon, as far as he was aware. His Master had even said so himself. Some folk just don't dream as often as others.

Wukong was one of those people.

However, on rare occasions, his mind slipped into the realm of the imagination. Odd sights or strange occurrences happened behind his eyes as he slept.

Dreams and, at times, visions welcomed him.

The last one hadn't happened in over 200 years. Until tonight.

He found himself in gray shadows. There didn't seem to be an up nor down.

Pools of nothing that seemed to flow all the same. It carried him back and forth, following a cycle of similarity.

There was silence at first, then that changed. Something soft, growing stronger. He strained his ears to hear until he finally understood what it was.

A heart beat.

Steady, but definitely there. Something about it was familiar.

"...Hello?" he asked.

A path emerged before him, giving him a stable footing to move forward. Curious, he followed it, wondering where it might lead. Winding trees slowly emerged from the ground, a chill breeze followed.

There was a smell in the air that wasn't there before.

Plums.

He paused at the threshold of a wide clearing, which beckoned him into an open valley he couldn't quite recognize. The hour was late into the night, the moon high in the sky.

From the tall grass, a figure emerged. No- they more of rose upward, like a puppet tugged on a string. The limpness of its body is unnatural in how it bent before straightening into something more recognizable.

This figure stood alone in the dark, their shadow stretching as far as the moon's glow seemed to touch.

There was something small, like a key grasped in their hand.

Wukong felt the fur on his arm standing straight. An unwelcome feeling snuck into his chest. He stepped closer, cautiously. "Who goes there?"

At his call, the stillness grew wild.

The shadows twisted and churned- the realm itself being warped. Darkness leaked into Wukong's vision as the figure turned.

He knew that darkness. A kernel of it lived within him, always.

Amber eyes meet his own, and he's running. His heart stopped.

Dashing forward with such speed, yet he never seems to get closer to that lone figure, standing in the moon's warm glow. 

The darkness swept past Wukong on a phantom wind, full of whispers and- pain.

So much pain and despair and guilt and fear.

He reached his hand out with a sharp cry. "Mihou!"

No response, but Wukong could feel him there. Standing. Watching.

All before he was hurtling downward, utterly blind in an impenetrable dark.

Around and around the darkness of shade enveloped him- the start and end of everything Wukong had come to know. At some point, he got used to the sensation and could straighten himself up.

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