In the Sleep of Death
You open your eyes, the flames crackle, you lay in your bedroll, making no movement. The Lady brushes her hand through your hair, her body low against yours. Her eyes are deep, languid fields of obsidian – she gazes at you in sorrow. “You work so hard, for so much, my hero, and the world gives you just more sorrow.” You look around you, your camp is inhabited not by your traveling companions but by friends past, dead – standing in a solemn tones of gray. “I want to ease your pain” you return your gaze to her eyes, swollen now to the size of the world. “Follow, and do not fear – the darkness is only an enemy to those who do not know what dwells within it” – in her eyes you fall, and see a ruin, of Erathor, laid out between the mountains and the forests. The map burns itself into your head, and you awaken.