Dark Forest (Watty's 2017)

Part 23

At some point, the exhaustion was too much. Days had passed with little to no sleep, and now that Ronan and Annika were gone, there was nothing to stop her from finally giving into slumber.

There was a dream. One without color or substance. It felt more like a fog, a coldness clinging to her skin as she stumbled through a gray mist. Shadows lurched and shifted just outside her reach, always disappearing before she could reach them. She felt afraid. A real, cold terror she hadn't felt in many years. Her heart hammered, trapped inside her chest. Fear had stolen her voice, making it impossible to call out. Just ahead of her, she could see a dull, yellowish light at the edge of the fog. She hurried towards it.

Shapes of towering trees melded into buildings, the forest floor turning to a cobble stone path. Her breath left her in a white mist. Too late she realized her steps were leaving black footprints on the white dusted ground. Horrible realization washed over here, the cold and the sooty prints all too familiar.

Zara emerged from the fog quite suddenly, as if stepping from one room of a house and into the next. Her breath was stolen from her in a soundless gasp. She whirled around to see the fog pressing closer, as if it were a living entity intent on swallowing her whole. Pivoting again, her eyes widened and her legs gave out from underneath her. She fell to her knees, shaking her head.

She was in Whitehaven, but not the Whitehaven she knew. This Whitehaven was a skeleton of the kingdom that had been her home for the past fifteen years.

The buildings were all but unrecognizable, smoke still dissipating from smoldering ruins. There was an overturned merchant's cart not even ten feet in front of her, it's contents having spilled to the ground. Rotting fruits and vegetables were the least of the carnage. The scent of death was overwhelming, though there were no bodies. Instead, there were reapers. Even more than what she had seen in Maran. The black cloaked creatures were so many in numbers, that they resembled a solid black cloud more than individual forms.

The ocean of reapers suddenly parted in front of her, though, creating a narrow path. She stared, feeling numb and for a moment unable to get to her feet. Slowly, though, she pushed herself from the ground and regained her footing. She kept waiting for one of the creatures to reach out a skeleton hand to her, to speak to her with its gravely voice. They paid her no mind, though, other than proceeding to slowly drift out of her way as she followed the path. She wasn't sure what she expected to find at the end of it, but nothing could have prepared her for what she saw.

Mountains of corpses, piled on top of one another. As if they were debris, not people. They eyes were still wide and unblinking, staring at her. Accusingly. As if it were her fault she hadn't been able to save them. She swayed on her feet, reaching out to steady herself against a nearby bench. She felt a sob catch in her throat, her eyes burning as she tried to hold back tears. Because there, in front of her, were the people she had wanted to save the most. Gran, her mother, Gray, Ronan....it suddenly felt as if she were staring into the eyes of everyone she had ever cared for.

She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her palms over her face. "Not real." She murmured in a shaky voice. "Not real, not real."

The cold seemed to press in closer, smothering her until it was hard to breath. She gasped for breath, tilting on her feet. She felt herself slowly falling. Falling, falling, falling.

Her eyes flew open moments before she hit the ground.

Night had fallen, leaving the cellar pitch black. She blinked in the darkness, as her eyes slowly adjusted and made sense of the shapes that surrounded her, though there wasn't much to see. Her hair stuck to her forehead in cold, clammy sweat and her cheeks were damp with tears. Her heart had yet to slow and as she sat up from the floor. Using her sleeve, she wiped the tear tracks from her face. It had been years since the last time she had cried. Though no one could fault her for it now, even if it had been all thanks to a dream.