Each piece of armor had been placed into a pile at the foot of her bed. Her fingers began to slowly unravel the braid that held back her dyed black curls. A tired hum escaped her as she dropped the various ribbons onto the floor, her sapphire eyes slowly shifting to the made up bed.
It had been empty for many weeks now. Empty of herself and… She shook her head, not daring to think of it. A huff of a breath escaped her as she padded forward, now nearly bare of any true clothing save for her underthings as she drew back the blankets and settled beneath the sheets. Slowly, easing her exhausted body back into the familiar bed, her eyes closed and the dreams began, as they often did.
Her boots crunched over the dead earth as she held her shield firmly in place, softly rumbling orders over her shoulder to the Tenpenny grouping that followed her forwards across the near barren battlefield. The woman's helmet was firmly in place as she continued advancing forward, staring out of the holes of her visor, shifting from one to side to the other, searching for the enemy, but finding none.
An eerie silence had befallen the battlefield, nothing moved save for the formation she led. It was if a hush had fallen over this stretch of land- as if the very earth they walked upon was holding its breath.
And then, the mist was there, curling upwards and twisting to meet them. Pitch black forms began to emerge, sounds that could only be described as animals in pain would come screeching out of what she assumed to be the mouths of the monstrous creatures that lurched and hissed.
Yet as the second screech reached her ears, she felt something within her, telling her that there was more to these noises. Clenching her hands firmly to shield and sword, she listened intently as the third screech came.
"Help… Us…"
Her shield lowered slightly as she peered over the rim of it, only to have a black tendril surge out from the nearest form. With a wet sounding thunk, the tendril slammed into her shield and slithered upwards. A battle cry escaped her lips as she moved to yank her shield down, slamming her blade down into the tendril that had attached itself to her shield.
A fourth screech came from the direction the tendril had lurched out from. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her blade as she backpedaled, watching in horror as the severed black tendril wiggled and writhed upon the dead earth.
More wet and sickening thumps began to sound out- followed by the screams of the other soldiers as they were set upon. It had been a trap, and they had stepped right into it.
The mist continued to swirl and dance, an almost taunting motion as it grew thicker and thicker becoming more of a miasma. It snaked up, prodding and flickering as it attempted to enter her lungs. Clencing her mouth firmly tight and not daring to breath in through her nose, she began to backpedal further, only to thump firmly into a solid object behind her.
Whipping around to face what was there, she watching on as one of the other soldiers tore the helmet from their heads and revealed blackening sclera, wiggling tendrils beginning to appear as well.
"Help… Me…" Came the garbled plea as the soldier collapsed to the earth. Numerous black tendrils, similar to the one that had tried to tear her shield from her grasp appeared from the thickening fog and wrapped themselves firmly around the fallen soldier's body.
"NO!" The single word cry tore from her throat as she watched on, the soldiers assumedly lifeless body being pulled back into the fog.
And before she knew it, she too was set upon by the tendrils. The black masses twisting around her arms and waist.
A scream ripped from her throat as she slashed and swung, attempting to get free to no avail.
It was useless. There was no escape.
The bedsheets were wrapped around her tightly as she fell out of bed and onto the floor. Cold sweat dripped down the side of her forehead and her curls were matted and knotted. Pulling herself free, she stumbled out of her bedroom and down the hall, into the bathroom.
Grasping onto the sink, knuckles turning white, she stared at the face that looked back at her.
There were two sapphire eyes, sclera normal and white, and then there was the rest of her face. No longer made-up but a map of jagged scars… Her normal face. No tendrils, no black veins. No sign of infection. No sign of the curse.
And yet in her minds eye, within her very dreams, it was too late. The tendrils were there, black as pitch and slow moving. Slowly, they were tightening their hold upon her.
