Chapter 32

"I mean, what else is there to do with her? We should just drop her off at the local orphanage." Verica stated her opinion, proposing the most logical course of action, at least according to her.

I'm not sure if that would be the best idea, as an elf she would instantly be enslaved the second the opportunity arises.

And before I even needed to bring up that point, someone else did instead.

"I mean, isn't she an elf? There's no way slave traders would pass up the chance to have her as a product. In regards to that, why was she in human territory anyways?" Asked Wrai, bringing up a good point.

At this, Verica tried to open her mouth to reply, but couldn't find anything to say back, being too compassionate to basically throw her into captivity, to have her stripped of her freedom.

I had thought about it a little, but I just really didn't have any idea why she was around there. It might have been because she was a slave, or was merely unlucky and got separated from whoever she was traveling with.

It is rather unlikely that she was previously enslaved, since the clothes she wore didn't seem like the kind a slave would wear, but those were completely ruined by the bloody human residue, so it would be difficult to ascertain the quality of the fabric.

Since she was wearing that, we had just wrapped her in one of my older spare clothes, though being too big, it was enough to cover her.

It was also a possibility that if she were a slave, her owners could have been the strange type, and dressed her of a higher standard.

"Well, should we take her back to where she came from?" Vercica asked, and that was something that was the most likely outcome, as most of us wouldn't tolerate the enslavement of a literal child.

"We should ask her where she came from when she wakes up. Then we can go from there." I proposed, as the other three nodded, happy to be done with the discussion since we were all exhausted to the point where, if we didn't finish immediately, we would have had to delay it till tomorrow.

We all left the room together, Verica and I heading to the second floor, and the other two going up one more, to the third floor.

My chambers were the closest to our young guest, being just across the hall, while our mage lived on the opposite side of the stairwell.

Heading into my bedroom, I got out of my combat gear, and wore my night robe, before climbing into bed.

Laying my head upon the ultra comfortable pillow, I felt myself slowly drift off to sleep, but I no longer feared my dreams, so I fell, falling straight into the embrace of my darling nightmares.

Familiar scenes greeted me, and at this point, it was the usual, all I felt was a bit of apprehension for the coming storm. 

It was my routine, I lived my life, and every night, Death welcomed me back, like a bad habit I couldn't let go of.

The visions were never exactly the same, sometimes I would see scenes of humans reduced to mere cattle, of having the very skin grafted upon them being systematically removed with surgical precision.

Then it would be healed every time, after that, rinse and repeat.

Other times, the sights before me were of battle, or more accurately, slaughter, since a fight would imply both sides were on the same plane of existence.

But that was not the case. 

Undead monsters, radiating such miasma that could even make my skin crawl, were rampaging through cities, villages and towns, massacring all those who were present, whether they were fleeing, putting up a futile resistance, or had just given up on the hope of survival.

Eventually, every last person was hunted down, and were removed from the land of the living.

And occasionally, like tonight, I see things that seem… just so innocent.

There stood a young child, a dark elf boy dressed in girls clothes, one that had been a frequent guest in my nightmares, he wore lavish clothing made of draconic scales.

It was clear, at least to my eye, that what he wore was equipment of an extremely high level. I remember when I first saw him, I thought that for the first time in my life, my dreams wouldn't terrify me.

I was mistaken.

Because, as I watched him rain death upon the masses, I thought back to the first time I saw him commit atrocities I hadn't believed could come from a child.

The earth split, swallowing people by the thousand, so great was the quantity, that from the boy's vantage point in the sky, that they looked like ants.

Then, as if satisfied with its meal, the earth was sealed, condemning all that fell within its clutches to the afterlife.

Seas of flame burned cities to the ground, reducing all to ash, the screams of complete agony were snuffed out, like a candle in the wind.

These were but a few of the calamities brought forth by the innocent looking boy, who looked on in satisfaction, seeming like someone who had just finished a hard day's work.

Then, as abruptly as it came, it went, and I awoke.

No longer in a cold sweat.

But with a grim determination. 

Renewed.

Reborn, every night.