Shadow Slave: Riftwalker

Tick! Tock!

Her heartbeat slowed.

Tick! Tock!

She glanced at the pinkish-red walls with her last remaining strength.

Tick! Tock!

Her eyes shut, and she lost the strength to reopen them.

Tick… T…

She fell into the state of unconsciousness.

…ock…

—

—

—

Beforehand, there was a circular dinner table. Around it was a family of five, a mother, a father, two daughters, and a son. While there had been another son, he was sent to the dream realm and never returned.

At least not yet.

That being said, the distraught family still hoped for a return, especially with the new Saints emerging, making exploration in the Dream Realm more likely.

For now, though, the family was under the stress of a different situation.

"Have you heard any information about the nearby gates...?" An opulent maid asked from the doorway.

She was regarding a middle-aged man with surprisingly clear-looking skin. His facial structure was chiseled yet retained its soft originality. His hair, however, was fairly long compared to the standard. His most prominent feature was his eyes, they were blue like the ocean, but with the spells influence, they struck far more meaning upon eye contact.

"The awakened are… kinda running away, but the situation hasn't taken a turn for the worst just yet. As long as there's a threat, humanity will prevail." He paused for a moment, "We're lucky…"

The youngest daughter—around fourteen years of age—raised her eyebrows and lifted her head off the table, "Lucky? How? From what I've heard, this dump has a pretty big reputation for gates."

"Well..." The father cleared his throat. "We're… held in higher regard than other families, mostly because me and your brother are Awakened. That being said, we'll be prioritized if an evacuation is needed."

With the Nightmare Gate situation, their neighborhood was desperate for new soldiers. While the gate ranks were low, the town was always dominated by mundane. Without direct government support, they'd be cast to the side and consumed by gates. Because of this, people were awaiting the solstice rather than fearing it, new Awakened being at high demand.

"Ugh... Honey, when's the next solstice? I haven't had time to check with all this paperwork." The lady of the house cut in, with a brazen, yet polite tone.

The woman gathered her auburn, shoulder length hair into a not-so-well-done high bun. Her milk chocolate eyes circled the room, then once again, landed on her husband. Rubbing her midnight eyebags and groaning, she took a firm bite of freshly cooked meat.

"It's December 15th…" He set both of his elbows on the table and brought his hands together, resting his chin on them. "So, sleepers will be sent to the Dream Realm in around 6 to 7 days."

The middle child—about seventeen years of age—was aggravated. While she couldn't disagree that they needed help, she equally hated her life being in other people's hands. After all, what if they, for any given reason, decided not to protect you? Then you'd fall victim to a gate and die a tragic—yet useless death.

She decided not to vocalize her opinion, because what could she do about it anyways? She wasn't an Awakened, and besides her own training, she wasn't strong enough to take on abominations that Awakened could. Either way, she was behind on sleep, so she lacked the energy to complain.

She was perhaps overly tired, but she 'foolishly' mistook it as insomnia. Perhaps, in her heart, she was hoping that the spell infected her, but didn't want to accept it.

"Good, we need more defense." The wife solidified, finishing her meat and returning her utensils. Then, she faced her eldest son—the other Awakened. "And you... Are you going to risk your life like an idiot?"

A weird weight appeared on the middle child's eyes, yet she remained quiet, hesitant. While mentioning her symptoms would be smarter, she felt a strange objection. She wanted to fall asleep one night, experience her First Nightmare, then wake up the next day as if nothing ever happened. Unfortunately, she knew that it wasn't an option, not when failing could put her entire family in jeopardy.

"Ah, to hell with it..." The middle child yawned and stood up, flicking herself between her eyebrows. An odd but effective way to stimulate her consciousness. She stood and limped as she approached a wall and leaned against it. The people in the room raised their eyebrows at her unexpected behavior.

"This may be sudden, but I think I'm infected..." She muttered as she stumbled towards her bedroom. Acting as if it were no big deal, she continued. "Brother, if I fail, can you be the one to—"

Before she could finish, and without even listening, the eldest son ran to his sister and lifted her by her waist before carrying her towards the bedroom.

"I'm not a kid, you know..." She pouted, trying to walk on her own. Unfortunately, her brother was holding her too high, and she wasn't strong enough to overpower an Awakened, so she gave up.

"You guys wait here! Dad, come with me!" Without responding, the father threw himself off the chair and ran with his son. They each exited the dining room before taking a turn and quickly finding her bedroom. Setting the girl on her bed, the oldest checked her temperature and sighed.

'It definitely isn't a fever...'

"Dad, I take my invitation back. Leave, you'll suck at this." The father clicked his tongue but nodded. While he wanted to be there for his daughter, he knew his instruction would only be a burden—compared to his son's, at least.

The door slammed shut, the loud noise stimulating her brain and ever-so-slightly reducing her fatigue.

"Uri… If I make it, I'll be thrown into the Dream Realm, rig…" She couldn't even finish her words; her brother was in a rush, after all. Questions with obvious answers could be answered by herself.

Urias nodded, flicking her forehead repeatedly, "Depends on when you finish."

The First Nightmare wouldn't typically last more than one sleep cycle, but cases existed with it lasting over a month, or even half a year at its very worst. Even so, Nightmares of that length were cruel and indifferent, and the people who survived would never be the same. Somebody like his sister didn't deserve it...

Gulp...

Well, in his opinion she didn't, but in the past...

Slap!

He shook his head and smacked himself, locking his eyes on his sister and focusing all of his attention.

"Okay don't speak, but move your wrists around, try to circulate your blood with minor movements, and fight the fatigue the best you can. Think deeply about what I say and recite it a few times once you enter your First Nightmare." Urias stated sternly, continuing his flicks.

Although he was only an Awakened, his First Nightmare was on the crueler side—at least compared to the stories of other Awakened, so he knew what to prepare for. "First of all, I won't be speaking from government protocol. I'll give you genuine tips from personal experience and I'll consider you as a person."

"When you fall asleep, remember that your trial won't be impossible. They are… 'created'—or whatever—based on who YOU are and what YOU must do. That also means you must be willing to change, remaining the same will often get you killed." He paused, "I almost died because of it, so do better than me."

Urias then flicked her in the same spot she previously flicked herself. "The people, the abominations, the ground, the land, nothing is real. Even if they were to be, I'd tell you to think of their lives as pebbles to stack in order to reach greater heights." He contemplated for a moment, thinking up a metaphor.

"Remember how Awakened cower from gates to save their own life, and how tons of people die because of their cowardice? That's called sacrificing others for oneself, regardless of 'responsibility'. Be the same, even if it means resorting to something foul."

Urias noticed her eyes trailing closed, so he slapped her in the face. His eyes teared up, but he bit his lips and prevented himself from sulking. "Just a… little longer, okay?"

"O…Kay…" She faintly responded, blinking a few times.

"First thing you should do is check your Attributes and Aspect. Don't get discouraged by whatever it is, as the spell puts you through a trial not an execution." 

This was actually a popular line in webtoons, and you could see it all over the place on posters or billboards. The government had a few main strategies public hope in the fight against the Spell, this was one of them. It was also a line that officers would use when people turned themselves in as infected.

The girl chuckled inwardly at the thought.

"I know it may be tiring, but use your head as much as possible, trust nobody. If they save your life, make them do it again. Don't save them unless they'd prove helpful later on."

"Remember this silly quote, 'You don't have to outrun the bear, you just have to outrun your friend.'"

Once again, the girl wanted to giggle. Who gave her brother the right to be so cringy? He wasn't wrong, but she expected a better quote at the very least.

"Now for personal experience, depending on the situation it'll be different, but search for the test the trial is giving you. For example, if you must kill something, find an efficient way to kill it. If you must run, then run fast."

"It might be hard to find the objective. so, as I said before... think. Creativity is just as important as logic; some aspects are strictly based on it." While he was holding back tears, he remained as professional as possible for his sister's sake.

The room grew dimmer for the poor girl, but a gentle smile appeared on her face. "Check… my top drawer…" She was barely conscious but felt an odd dripping sensation on her chest. While she was pretty much unconscious, she could tell what they were.

Tears.

—

—

—

"Haaah…" He clenched the bedsheets and yelled. "Dad! She's asleep!" Quickly, the door broke open in a more aggressive manner than how it was shut. 

When the man entered, his face wasn't stern like at the dinner table. It was wet with the tears of an afraid father. The Spell wasn't something he could protect her from, like people were. It was something even the Saints were powerless against. The best he could do was believe.

…

After a few minutes of sulking, Urias jolted his head up with a resolute expression. His sisters last words—before falling into slumber—were about her top drawer, after all. 

With tear stains under his eyes, and ones currently drying up, he approached her nightstand and crouched in front of it. He was both excited and afraid to see what was inside.

His father, on the other hand, was busy tucking the girl into bed... similar to that of a baby. Perhaps he wished she never grew up. Whether that was true or not, this was reality, and he couldn't afford ignoring it.

From beside the bed, a happy yet frustrated sound emerged. "You…" His swollen eyes were watered once again. His birthday was on the twenty fifth—with him turning twenty-one—and his younger sister took it upon herself to make him a gift. A gift she stored in the top drawer of her night stand.

While he wanted to deny it, the reason for this was obvious. His younger sister likely noticed her symptoms and made the gift in case she wasn't alive for his birthday.

"...idiot…"

—

—

—

[Aspirant! Welcome to the Nightmare Spell. Prepare for your first trial…]

—> Feedback Please! <—