When Kalen closed his eyes again, the sky turned black.
His dream didn't start, it crashed. No warning, no images. Just a blackout, a sharp blow to his consciousness, and then he was standing again, knee-deep in ash.
Above us is a flesh-like sky.
There was dirt under my feet, and bones sticking out of it.
The sword is in my hand. My left hand.
The right one wasn't there.
— ... what?".. — What is it? " he croaked.
The blood was still gushing. The torn flesh, smoking with pain, ached as if it were alive. He had lost an arm. Not in reality, but in a nightmare. But his brain... his brain knew no difference.
There was only one thing beating in my head:
"You can't."
They stood before him.
Goblins.
But they're not the same.
Each of them was... crippled.
Without eyes. With their lower jaws torn off.
With faces that have been re-sewn.
And everyone laughed. Deeply, with their throats.
— Ha... hah... ha... ha...
Dozens.
And one is the main one. It's the size of an orc. It's wearing armor made of human skulls. It's holding its own hand. The one it cut off. It's chewing on it like a bone.
Kalen exhaled.
"You're fucking disgusting…
One leap, and the goblins surged toward him.
He rushed forward.
The left hand. Only the sword in the left hand.
The balance is off. The blow is knocked down. He stabs one in the stomach, but doesn't have time to dodge - a side blow with a spin.
It's falling.
It rises.
It cuts again.
It's falling.
It rises.
Strikes on the neck, on the back, on the shoulder — everything passes like fire through dry grass.
But he gets up.
One through the belly.
The second one cuts off his ear.
The third one breaks his leg, but doesn't finish him off.
"Ward!" Kallen barked.
A black shadow spilled out of the floor.
Knight Ward, tall and carrying a rune sword, charged at the orc, knocking him back.
The goblins shrieked. They knew that the Shadow ate those who were not afraid.
Kalen got down on one knee.
The hand is still missing.
My head is spinning.
Sword-slips in your fingers.
"You'll die if you don't learn…"
The dragon's words sound like a slap in the face.
He clenched his teeth. He stood up.
— I'm not going to die.
Scream.
After slaying the last goblin, Ward disappeared into the smoke.
I was left alone.
An orc.
Who ate his hand.
"Human," he croaked. "Too weak. Warm. Soft. You screamed when your nails were pulled out. When you were peed in the eye with fire."
"And?"
"You're food.
He lunged forward.
Kallen, even without his right hand, dodged. He planted his foot and struck at the neck. The sword stuck. He pulled it out and cut through to the bone.
The Orc shook. He backed up. He fell to his knees.
"Don't eat my body anymore," Kalen breathed. "Die hungry, you bastard."
And he hit me.
He was standing. One.
He breathed in short bursts, as if each breath were taking a bite out of his life.
The right hand still hadn't appeared. But he knew it would in the next dream.
If he doesn't, he'll learn to fight without her.
The tattoo on his back was stretching up. Now it was running along his spine like a dragon's spine.
And laughter rang in my head.
Not a goblin.
Not a demon.
It's his own.
He was getting used to it.
Kalen jumped out of bed as if he'd been shot.
His heart was pounding so hard that his chest felt like it might crack. His flesh was trembling. Sweat was dripping down his temples.
He was barely breathing.
The room was silent.
Dim light. The warm glow of magical lamps on the ceiling.
The window is open, and the night wind blows the curtains, bringing the smell of the dusty city and a hint of bitter acacia from the Academy's garden.
He is alive.
He's here.
"…again," Kalen croaked, pressing his face into the pillow.
Screams still echoed in his head. Metal. Laughter. Pain. His arm was whole again, but the phantom pain... it wouldn't go away. He felt it as if it were still severed.
He stood up slowly, as if in an old body.
My legs were buzzing.
His spine ached as if he had been beaten.
The tattoo on his back was pulsing slightly, a black ribbon now covering half of his shoulders.
He looked at the mirror in the corner.
— You're not dead yet.
But this is for now.
On the next bed, Reina was lying with her back turned, her covers up to her ears. Her hair was spread out on the pillow.
Kallen tiptoed over and listened—she was breathing. Calmly.
It was as if she had no dreams.
"Bitch," I thought. "How do you sleep when I'm around?"
He chuckled, exhaled. And went out into the corridor.
The training yard was empty, only one magic lantern flickering in the corner, barely holding the light. The night was deep, and heavy.
Kallen stood on the stone circle. He clenched his fist.
"Run away.
He started running. Turn back.
Circle — twenty times.
Then push-ups — one hundred and fifty.
Sweat poured down his face. His muscles ached and twitched. His temples throbbed.
"Slowly. Too slowly."
He shouldered a training stone.
Dragging him along the path. Screeching, cracking, straining.
My breathing is raspy. My legs are buzzing, and my back feels like it's falling off.
But it doesn't stop.
"Ward," he whispered. "If you're there, look. I won't give up."
The words hung in the air. There was no response. But he could feel the Shadow watching.
At dawn, when the sky was just beginning to turn gray, Kalen returned to his room.
He collapsed on the bed like a sack. His eyelids closed almost immediately. But not forever.
"Kalen," a voice said.
He shuddered.
Reina was sitting on her bed, her hair disheveled. Her scarlet eyes were filled with sleep, anxiety, and something strange.
— Where were you?"
"A walk," he said curtly.
She looked at him for a couple of seconds, then said slowly,
"Your tattoo... it's bigger."
He froze.
"I'm not asking. It's just... I noticed."
"No one," he said.
"Pf. As if I care," she said, lying back down. "Do whatever you want."
But he knew she had remembered everything.
And the next night…
He fell asleep again.
I woke up in hell again.