In Somnis Veritas

"**In Somnis Veritas**" is the tenth episode of Season One of *The Demon's Light*.

## Synopsis

Atticus goes on a date with Blossom. Melissa visits the town of Jasinski.

## Narrative

### **Part I**

*Feeling the sun beating down as he trudged through the desert, all Atticus Anoethite could see was miles upon miles of sand. He felt extremely fatigued and needed something to drink, his throat as dry as sandpaper.*

Seated inside of a fancy restaurant, Atticus found himself at a table. In front of him, Blossom Cane was gazing down at something in her lap, her brown hair falling onto her shoulders.

"I'm sorry for being late, I got caught up in an issue." The words started flowing out of his mouth, as if he was reading a script.

As soon as he addressed her, Blossom looked up, smiling.

"Hi!" she exclaimed. "It's alright, all that matters is that you're here now."

"And I wouldn't have it any other way." Atticus smiled. "I'm still surprised you agreed to this. Marshall kept telling me that I was crazy for even entertaining the idea of asking you out."

"Marshall says a lot of things." Blossom laughed. "This is a really nice place, by the way. Who suggested it?"

"Savannah did. She said it was awesome and that she comes here all the time with her family."

*Falling to his knees, he began throwing his hands into the sand, frantically throwing it aside as he searched for any sign of water. Giving up, he stood and started running forward without any aim.*

As the two continued their talk, a waiter approached them. It was a tall man with long white wings protruding from his back. When the man began to speak, the sounds that came out resembled millions of voices attempting to speak at once. Finally, a clear sentence was formed.

"What would you like to order?"

"I'm not sure," Blossom answered. "We weren't given any menus."

"My apologies." The waiter handed both of them a menu and stood, prepared.

"I have no idea what to order," Atticus remarked. "There's a lot of stuff on here, and it all looks great."

"Leave it to me," Blossom replied, handing the menu back to the waiter and listing off a few items.

After the waiter left, Blossom extended her hand and placed it atop Atticus's.

"Do you have any plans for when you finish school, Atticus? I'm sure there's a lot of fields you could go into."

"Oh, um," Atticus wrapped his fingers around her hand and smiled, "I'm thinking about being a writer, but I'm not certain. What about you?"

*As he ran, Atticus took notice of several indistinct shapes in the distance. He recognized them eventually as a group of people. They appeared to be advancing upon him. Their intent was unclear, but Atticus was not relieved. He sensed something sinister with their arrival.*

*He tried to run further, but as the group walked closer, he was seemingly frozen in place. Counting, Atticus discovered there were six beings in total. They were all dressed in dark robes and appeared identical to one another. However, one being stepped forward and walked towards Atticus, the other five pausing in their movements. The being raised their hand and a sentence echoed across Atticus' mind — "Be not afraid."*

The waiter returned and placed several plates down in front of Atticus and Blossom, as the pair watched with excitement.

"Wow, this stuff looks awesome, I need to let you order more often," Atticus said, grabbing a slice of garlic bread and biting into it. Savoring the flavor, he continued the conversation.

"This is great. Right, Blossom?"

Glancing at his date, Atticus noticed that Blossom was looking towards him and appeared to be responding. However, no words came out of her mouth.

"Blossom?" Atticus repeated. He looked around; dishes clattering, diners conversing, wind blowing through curtains – Blossom's lips forming the shapes of words Atticus could barely recognize. There was no sound at all.

"What's wrong? Why aren't you saying anything?"

Once again, Blossom mouthed words and stared at Atticus with a puzzled look.

"Say something, try harder!" Atticus yelled, throwing the garlic bread towards his plate.

At once, sound instantly returned to the room. Atticus could hear the faint murmur of conversation and the wind rushing outside.

"Atticus, what's the matter?" The sound of Blossom's voice caused Atticus to focus on her again. "Why are you yelling at me?"

*Atticus turned on his heel and willed himself to move forward, kicking up dust and gaining distance from the shadowy figures. The landscape beyond him was uniform, a sea of shifting sand and haze.*

Atticus stood up, placing his hand against the table. "Something weird is happening, I don't think we should stay here."

"Atticus, just sit down. You're not making any sense."

"Don't tell me to sit down." He curled his hand into a fist and took a deep breath. "Come on, I said we need to get out of here."

Turning away from the table, Atticus started to head for the restaurant's door. Colliding with the floor almost instantly, he raised his hands up and glanced at his palms. Feeling slightly sore from the fall, he attempted to stand up.

Blossom rushed to his side and grabbed his left hand.

"What's wrong?"

Trying to speak, Atticus discovered that he could barely breathe. Gasping for breath, it felt like his lungs were being squeezed. As his vision started to blur, Atticus tried harder to calm his breathing. Images flashed in front of Atticus' eyes, though they were moving so rapidly it was impossible to discern what they were. As Atticus collapsed onto the floor again, he felt his blood pressure heighten as his vision began to fade away.

*Directly ahead, over the horizon, a shape broke the monotony: A cluster of vivid green trees among the desert. Atticus hastily moved in its direction, panting as his body slowly succumbed to the heat.*

*Finally, Atticus reached the oasis. A canvas tent sat at the mouth of the pond, shielded from the sun above by thick palms. He dropped to his knees, cupping water into his hands and down his throat. As Atticus began to wash his face with the salty water, he saw a hand move the tent's flap aside. A tall man with pale white skin and glasses stood at its mouth.*

*"Come inside, let's get you out of the sun," he beckoned.*

*The man sat cross-legged across from Atticus, who greedily drank from a bowl of water. He took a drag of smoke from a complex pipe.*

*"It will be dark soon, and the desert is cold at night. How would you like to stay here?"*

*"I appreciate the offer," responded Atticus, "but I have to be getting somewhere. Thank you for the water."*

*"No, I insist."*

*Atticus smiled, and stood up. He walked to the tent's entrance. "I've really got to go. I don't have a lot of time."*

"Atticus, look at me. Stay focused."

As Atticus' senses returned to him, he realized he was still lying on the floor. Blossom crouched beside him.

"What happened?" Atticus attempted to raise himself up, but Blossom quickly grabbed his arm.

"Don't, not yet. You just passed out, it seemed like you were having an episode a moment ago. Stay focused, how are you feeling now?"

Atticus paused, unable to recall the events she mentioned. "What do you mean? I'm fin—"

*"Don't listen to her," snapped the man, "you listen to* me*."*

*Atticus felt a sharp pain in his head. Already, Blossom's face had begun to fade from his mind. The man continued.*

*"I want you to sit down, and focus hard," He gestured to the ground, and Atticus complied. "Think about the desert. Not just the sand and the landscape. All the life that surrounds you."*

*The man slid the tube of the hookah in-between Atticus' fingers, and raised it to his lips. Atticus inhaled the smoke, choking down coughs as he breathed. After a moment, Atticus exhaled.*

*"I felt something," he said, shakily, "...like someone else is lost out there."*

*"That's good. Do it again."*

*Atticus placed his mouth around the tube once more. He closed his eyes as the vapor filled his lungs. A bright light was visible behind his eyelids for a moment, though distant. Atticus felt a strong yearning to reach it. His companion placed a hand on his shoulder.*

*"Do you see it?" he asked, and Atticus nodded. "I've been looking at it for so long, it's burned into my vision."*

*"What is it?"*

*"Something that I could never reach. One more time."*

*Yet again, Atticus imbibed the smoke. The light encompassed him, and he felt a strong sensation of inertia. He attempted to force his eyes open, to no avail. The scent of the smoke filled the air around him. The motion grew faster. The light drew closer.*

### **Part II**

Melissa stood on a snow-coated sidewalk, waving for a taxi. She set her stuffed backpack down after minutes passed. Beside her, an older gentleman dressed in fancy clothing stood. Every few seconds, he would glance down at his watch and mumble under his breath.

Feeling uneasy around him, Melissa silently hoped he wasn't also waiting for a taxi and inched away from him. Noticing her behavior, the man started to make small talk.

"Are you waiting for a taxi?"

"Yeah, I am. I really need to get out of this city fast."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm not sure," Melissa answered, drawing back and letting the conversation die.

A taxi would finally stop by only a little after that. Dashing Melissa's hopes, the older man followed her into the taxi. The driver, a young man with blond hair, looked towards the back seats.

"Where to?" he asked.

"Jasinski," Melissa replied, unsure why she said such.

The older man remained silent and looked out the window.

"Five phoenix."

"Not much reason to go there nowadays," the driver commented as they set off.

"Yeah," she responded. "I guess."

"Friends there?"

"I honestly don't know," she replied. There was a feeling of unease bubbling up inside her. Jasinski was a fairly important place, but she didn't -- or couldn't -- remember an exact reason.

"Well, hope they recognize you," the driver laughed, although Melissa didn’t find this funny in the slightest.

"These friends of yours, how long have you known them?" the older gentleman suddenly asked.

"Um, quite a few years, I think. I met them when I took a trip." Melissa was beginning to speak faster than she could think, so she lied to prevent having to explain to a complete stranger. It may have been her imagination, but she thought she heard strange sounds in the distance.

"What is that noise?"

"What noise?" the driver responded.

Before Melissa could answer, the car suddenly came to a screeching halt. A truck in front of them had suddenly sped up and turned into another lane, smashing into another vehicle. Screams erupted. Melissa gasped in terror at the spectacle, but the driver only sighed.

"Rough world," he said.

"Shouldn't we go help them?" Melissa exclaimed, trying to open the car door, although it wouldn't open. She noticed the driver wasn't paying attention. "What are you doing?!"

"Shouldn't be too long, might as well enjoy the ride," the gentlemen commented seemingly unfazed, almost like he had completely missed the event they had just witnessed.

Melissa was about to reply when her eyes drifted from the featureless road ahead to the car's rear-view mirror.

Behind them, a sea of blues and grays — an army of demons was chasing the car, the city had completely disappeared.

Melissa looked back at the driver, panicked. "Can you go any faster?" she pleaded.

The man turned to her, revealing a familiar face; her brother, Steven. Looking beside her in disbelief, she realized the older gentleman was her uncle, Richard.

"Is this jogging your memory?" Steven asked.

"Jogging my memory? What? Don't you see we are about to get swarmed by a horde of demons?!"

Steven returned his attention to the road. A soft snowfall adorned the windshield. "That's Jasinski ahead. Are you nervous?"

"No," Melissa said. Her heart was pounding with newfound adrenaline as the town came closer, but it was not anxiety that drove her. Without thinking, she cranked the car door open and sprinted forward. Richard jumped out from behind her, attempting to catch up.

The white snow of Jasinski was decorated with red streaks of blood. The demons, uniformed in metal and moving as one, went through the streets like a bullet. The sounds of men, women, and children screaming echoed through the city.

"Devlin!" a voice shouted behind her. She turned around, expecting to see her uncle, and her eyes instead met with a young man.

His voice was shaky, and his clothing similar to her own. Her gaze quickly shifted to what was left of his right arm: tattered pieces of cloth and flesh hanging down, and bite-marks up his side. He screamed out again. "Devlin! Retreat!"

Melissa's eyes shot around more. Every limp corpse on the icy pavement brought forth compassion within her alongside an intense, fiery rage. A voice called out to her once more, this time distinctly Steven's own.

"Melissa!"

### **Part III**

Atticus grasped for a notch in the planked wall, digging his fingers in and pulling himself to his feet. He looked down at the surface beneath him: withered, covered in hay, drenched in lantern oil. Holding his hand to the wall as he walked across the slick wooden floor, Atticus noticed the sunlight outside illuminating two figures. One, a girl who looked to be no older than him. Standing over her was a large figure with a veil hiding its features. It kneeled down to shake the girl awake before raising its head to look at Atticus. A wave of anxiety washed over him.

Beneath the veil, Atticus could make out the marble face of the man he had met with earlier. He opened his mouth as the girl slowly lifted herself from the ground, but the man spoke first.

"Good morning, Atticus Anoethite," he said. "You've arrived at a very good time. The others should be here soon."

Melissa sat in the car's passenger seat, silent and pale as a ghost, with the massacre at Jasinski stuck in her mind. Her comrades' names came back to her, one by one, and she muttered them under her breath as Steven drove. Richard gently reached from behind and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," responded Melissa. The trio had finally reached a relatively clear point in the road, without any snow or ice in the vehicle's way. Fields of wheat walled the path off from their surroundings, and the sun was finally beginning to rise. "Can we stop for a little? I'm... feeling carsick," she lied. Steven obliged, pulling the car over in the shade of a dilapidated barn.

Everyone opened their doors and stepped out. Melissa removed her bloodstained jacket, and draped it over the car door.

"Is it hot out here, or is it just me?" Steven asked, fanning himself. "Let's head inside. Might be something in there."

Richard nodded in agreement and led the way.

While the girl ahead of him seemed to be in a haze, Atticus had never felt more lucid. He slowly inched his hand across the wall, before he came across a sharp, jutting piece of wood. Now moving quickly, he snapped it off and pointed it at the man.

"Get away from Blossom."

The figure pulled back his hands, and slowly stepped back. Atticus inched forward, "Where are we? Who - *What* are you?" His skin began to feel hot, and his lungs short of breath. The man's presence alone inspired great anxiety in Atticus.

"I'm what you could call a herald. I assisted you in linking the dreams so my lord could arrive,"

With the mention of a dream came a cold light. The feeling of a bed beneath him, of a liquid pulsing through his veins. Blossom's voice urging a response.

"Please, stay focused. I'd like you to meet him,"
The image dissipated from Atticus' vision in clouds of smoke. His grip on the wooden shard loosened, and he allowed it to drop to the floor. For a moment it remained still, and then it began to rise into the air. Other detritus followed, drawing Atticus' vision to the ceiling.

The barn's roof had collapsed outward. Above Atticus hung an enormous silver maw, and through it he gazed upon a thousand more landscapes, a wake of destruction torn through each.

Richard took his hand back from the heavy wooden door. With a sudden stillness, his hand fell to his side. Melissa looked to her left, seeing Steven do the same. His pupils dilated, filled with a vacant tranquility.

For a moment, Melissa thought that another memory had manifested itself. She recognized her surroundings, of course. This was the same road she'd traveled down with the Alchemilia soldiers. The same barn she'd awoken in. Melissa stilled her breath, bracing for whatever would appear in front of her. She stepped past Richard and pushed the door open.

The girl stood, uneasy. She saw a robed figure standing next to a teenager. She took a few steps towards the teen and realized this person was not unfamiliar — it was Atticus.

As Melissa attempted to call out to him, she felt the sudden urge to look upwards. Above her, the roof had been torn away and revealed a scene she didn't quite understand. Confused, she thought she was seeing various different locations - all hellish and strange.

"What's happening?" Atticus spoke, interrupting her thoughts. The robed figure beside him pointed towards the roof and gestured excitedly.

"They're coming," the figure responded. "Thanks to you, thanks to us."

"Your master?" Atticus started to back away from the man, his gaze staying focused above him.

Thunder clapped, and the man was nowhere to be found.

"Atticus!" Melissa called out. Even though she wanted to approach him, she felt unable to move forward. Her legs seemed stuck in place.

Atticus instantly broke his gaze and looked behind him. Melissa could see a flash of confusion on his face, but he quickly hid it.

"Stay back."

Thunder clapped once more, and a bright wave of violet fell upon the barn. Where the gaping hole sat in the sky, there was now a ring of light; an eclipsed sun looming above.

Melissa gathered the strength to move. She rushed to Atticus' side, staring down the figure in front of him. Its movements had stilled, frozen in a gesture of elation. Atticus remained silent, his eyes darting around the room until Melissa spoke.

"What the *hell* is this?"

The man lowered his hand to his mouth and shushed Melissa. She felt herself taken aback as his cold gaze came to rest on her. Sun filtered through specks of dust and settled on Atticus, who was compelled to follow her lead.

"This — The treatment, right? It's coming back to me." He looked at the man, who tilted his head towards Atticus. Melissa turned to Atticus, whose expression belied a nervousness at the visions before him. He shot a glance at her, and in an attempt to reassure him, Melissa nodded.

The suggestion, however, further brought unease to Melissa. If this instance of Atticus was aware of the treatment, if he himself was dreaming, then clearly it was not conjured by her mind. The nature of Atticus, here, raised another question: What was the nature of the other man in the room?

"Would it ease your mind if I explained myself, Melissa?"

Her heart skipped a beat when the being said her name. There was no hint of malice in its voice, but a touch of earnesty.

"...Mhm," she muttered through tightly shut lips.

"Then wait, just a moment. All will reveal itself."

For a long moment, there was stillness and silence. Thick air strangled Atticus' breath, though whether it was an effect of the environment or a response from his body was unclear. Suddenly, Atticus felt a vibration beneath him. Though subtle at first, a rumbling began to emanate from the sky. Attention drifted from the veiled man to the black sun that loomed overhead.

Yet again, thunder — and this time, lightning — cracked overhead. Where once sat Blossom's limp form and a black iron lantern, a stone carving was placed — A cyclopean throne, wrapped in writhing black fabric. The ephemeral body upon it looked down at Atticus and Melissa, its skin swirling with color as though all the light behind the moon had been bled into it.

From another cursory look, the objects whirling around the throne's body took shape. Five or six crowned figures near-identical to the man that had spoken to them moments ago. The central form extended its neck down to Atticus, grasping at the throne as it cocked its head. It pulled back, and whispered something in the crowned man's ear.

He cleared his throat. "The lord wishes to extend His thanks. The both of you have made the final step to Euclid possible. He looks forward to whatever may come in your futures."

"As well, He wishes for peace and quiet. In a few moments, you will awaken, and it may be a long time before we meet again. Of course," he smiled behind the fabric. "Never say never, huh?"

## Epilogue

The room was silent. Samuel was organizing papers as Steven sat next to a sleeping Melissa. He had stopped speaking to her a few hours ago, but was still listening for signs of engagement. Now all that could be done was monitor her until the treatment was over.

It had seemed as though the only other people still paying any attention were Richard and the hooded Chris that sat nearby him, who watched the vital monitors closely.

Suddenly, Chris spoke up.

"Doctor Devlin, you might want to look at Melissa's monitor."

As Richard hopped out of his chair, he inspected the girl's monitor. "Samuel, her heart rate is rising. Is that normal?"

"Perhaps, but it all depends on the person, really. Try and take a look."

Richard made his way over to Steven, taking his clipboard from him. "Steven, I don't think this is right."

"What do you mean?"

"Her vitals aren't normal. We need to wake her up."

"Do we really think that is in her best interest, Rich? I mean, what—" Samuel started.

"Yes, I do, and I'll be a damned fool if I — if I lose my niece a second time. We need to wake her up now."