I see it every night now. The ground splitting. The figure in the shadows laughing. The city, with a great church on a hill, and a castle high atop a plateau, sinking into the ground as people scream in agony.
I told this dream to Athos. He tells me it is too manufactured, too overt, to be subconscious. He tells me there is a person who can cast Dream upon anyone they want, as if it were as easy as breathing.
It was then he told me the one behind such dreams: Maloraxis.
He told me I should be wary of these dreams. That I should pay them no heed. And yet, I can’t ignore the feelings of death and misery.
The following day we were summoned to do a job. Message came from Cen’acnes, and immediately my mind recalled the dream. The dream I had where Cen’Acnes was in shambles.
Had the message come from anyone else we’d have only sent Sybelline or Madisan to deal with it. But something of this magnitude needs as many Mendakin as we can muster.
As we headed to the city my thoughts turned to those five I saw in Riverdale. My feelings turned to dread, for I saw them also falling into the darkness as the city crumbled.
I send my prayers to them, in hopes that they are safe, wherever they are.