Dreams of Fire and Shadow
A Countdown to Final Ragnarok short story
By Dan Wright
By Dan Wright
Dolores had been having the same dream for as long as she could remember – so much so that she couldn’t really consider it a nightmare anymore. And yet, every time she dreamt, it was always as disturbing as the first time.
Fire and Shadow.
That was her dream.
That was her prophercy.
Even for impara standards, Dolores was incredibly old. Unlike many of her race, she still remembered the Age of Sorcery. In fact, she was there when one age ended and another begun. She had seen many Kings, Sultans and Emperors come and go, more than even she could count. She had seen ghuls rise to try and destroy the mortal world, only to be quelled. She had seen brothers fight, forests perverted into things of horror, wars, plagues, peace – and she was even there when her son was taken from her during what should have been a routine ritual, his soul torn from his body to make way for another.
She had lived long enough to know that no-one had the same dream more than once. Dolores had heard stories about ‘recurring dreams’ before, but no two dreams are ever the same. Even recurring ones would have some difference between them. This she knew.
But every night, her dream played out exactly as the first time.
She saw Draconica on fire, the lands ablaze like a bonfire during festival season. There were no screams in this dream, for no one was left to hear them.
Within the flames, she saw a darkness – an unnatural darkness that even the flames could not light. The darkness and the flames were as one, one force and one power, combined to create the ultimate evil. All that Dolores could see within the flames were two, white eyes that burned with all the hatred in the world. Hatred that would stop the heart of a lesser mortal.
Her.
It was Her that caused this. She was the one that would bring darkness and flame.
She was coming…
Final Ragnarok.
It was no dream that Dolores suffered every night – it was a prophecy.
Prophecies always manifested in dreams. That was another truth Dolores know well enough.
And it was the same this night. Dolores dreamt as before – the fire, the darkness, the death. Playing out exactly the same.
But then, something changed.
Dolores noticed that there was someone else in the dream. A figure she had never seen before. Or maybe, she just never noticed him?
He was a boy, not yet a man. His hair the purest gold, his wings fire and ice, his eyes untapped power. He floated above the fire and darkness, even more so than She did. And when She turned to him, it almost was like her eyes were filled with awe. Dolores was certain that she saw Her bow to him.
Then Dolores heard crying, although all mortals were supposed to be extinct. Dolores saw a woman amongst the fire, on her knees and weeping. She had only one arm and her tears were blood. At her feet was a broken weapon; split in half. The woman looked up at the sky, and seeing the boy, she seemed to cry harder than before. Her tears fell to the ground, pooling around her. The pools became larger and larger, until they had become rivers, then oceans, extinguishing even the flames, leaving only darkness.
That’s when Dolores awoke.
Though she no longer had the power of sight, the pungent smell of polluted skies entering her nostrils was enough to warn her this was the real world.
She did not ask who the boy was, for she knew once She had bowed to him what his purpose was – and why the woman wept.
He is the one!
He is the one that will bring Final Ragnarok!
For many others, this could have been a sign to stop it – but Dolores had lived too long and no longer had her powers. She couldn’t stop it, even if she wanted to.
But maybe, there was someone who could.
Sighing deeply, she fumbled around for her metal jug, empty for the moment. She hoped that the people of Corhagen would be kind to her today.
Fire and Shadow.
That was her dream.
That was her prophercy.
Even for impara standards, Dolores was incredibly old. Unlike many of her race, she still remembered the Age of Sorcery. In fact, she was there when one age ended and another begun. She had seen many Kings, Sultans and Emperors come and go, more than even she could count. She had seen ghuls rise to try and destroy the mortal world, only to be quelled. She had seen brothers fight, forests perverted into things of horror, wars, plagues, peace – and she was even there when her son was taken from her during what should have been a routine ritual, his soul torn from his body to make way for another.
She had lived long enough to know that no-one had the same dream more than once. Dolores had heard stories about ‘recurring dreams’ before, but no two dreams are ever the same. Even recurring ones would have some difference between them. This she knew.
But every night, her dream played out exactly as the first time.
She saw Draconica on fire, the lands ablaze like a bonfire during festival season. There were no screams in this dream, for no one was left to hear them.
Within the flames, she saw a darkness – an unnatural darkness that even the flames could not light. The darkness and the flames were as one, one force and one power, combined to create the ultimate evil. All that Dolores could see within the flames were two, white eyes that burned with all the hatred in the world. Hatred that would stop the heart of a lesser mortal.
Her.
It was Her that caused this. She was the one that would bring darkness and flame.
She was coming…
Final Ragnarok.
It was no dream that Dolores suffered every night – it was a prophecy.
Prophecies always manifested in dreams. That was another truth Dolores know well enough.
And it was the same this night. Dolores dreamt as before – the fire, the darkness, the death. Playing out exactly the same.
But then, something changed.
Dolores noticed that there was someone else in the dream. A figure she had never seen before. Or maybe, she just never noticed him?
He was a boy, not yet a man. His hair the purest gold, his wings fire and ice, his eyes untapped power. He floated above the fire and darkness, even more so than She did. And when She turned to him, it almost was like her eyes were filled with awe. Dolores was certain that she saw Her bow to him.
Then Dolores heard crying, although all mortals were supposed to be extinct. Dolores saw a woman amongst the fire, on her knees and weeping. She had only one arm and her tears were blood. At her feet was a broken weapon; split in half. The woman looked up at the sky, and seeing the boy, she seemed to cry harder than before. Her tears fell to the ground, pooling around her. The pools became larger and larger, until they had become rivers, then oceans, extinguishing even the flames, leaving only darkness.
That’s when Dolores awoke.
Though she no longer had the power of sight, the pungent smell of polluted skies entering her nostrils was enough to warn her this was the real world.
She did not ask who the boy was, for she knew once She had bowed to him what his purpose was – and why the woman wept.
He is the one!
He is the one that will bring Final Ragnarok!
For many others, this could have been a sign to stop it – but Dolores had lived too long and no longer had her powers. She couldn’t stop it, even if she wanted to.
But maybe, there was someone who could.
Sighing deeply, she fumbled around for her metal jug, empty for the moment. She hoped that the people of Corhagen would be kind to her today.