Through the darkness, Brenylon could sense something on the windowsill at his feet, something dark that waited for him to fall into the blackness. This presence seemed to follow him into the void of dreams, and he could almost see the black thing that followed him when it suddenly vanished in a veil of smoke. The wizard found himself in a town, a burning town with tall buildings that were mere shadows in the haze. He was running, and there was someone beside him, a glowing, friendly presence he had long forgotten. It, too, was only a shadow, but it was his only comfort in the confusion. This shadow was felled by a sharp, unseen energy that cut through the smoke. Brenylon peered through the haze to see what had created the energy and saw what had chased him and invaded his dreams. Perhaps, Brenylon thought, it had not been following but leading. There was a strong sense that the thing had brought him here to this strange place he somehow knew but could not wholly remember.
He could see the thing clearly now. It was a man, a young man in a robe of dark blue who held up his hand to strike him down with another burst of power. The wizard immediately surrounded himself with magical energy and the spell bounced harmlessly off of this aegis. Brenylon raised his hand and fire leapt from it, catching on the mans robe. As the robe burned, the wizard expected his enemy to flee, but he did not. He did not even move as the flames consumed the robe and his flesh, which melted and bubbled into a red, gnarled mass. The features of the face shifted and warped, four black fangs springing from the chin as the mouth lost its form and vanished. Black horns jutted from the forehead, and the eyes became swirls of yellow fire. The wizard looked on these eyes in awe, and they seemed to look not at him, but into him, into his mind and soul.
Brenylon! boomed the voice from somewhere behind the mask that served as the demons face. Brenylon quickly looked away. The creature had learned his name simply by looking into his eyes. The wizard silently vowed to keep his eyes averted for however long he was to enjoy the company of this creature, lest it learn more things it could use to its advantage.
The demon gestured outward with its gnarled, clawed hand. As you have done to my world, it growled, indicating the smoking, charred buildings, so shall I do to yours. With that, the hand that had made the gesture shot forward, meeting with Brenylons chest, burning his skin through the cloth as it pushed him back, back, into the world of reality.
Brenylon woke, searching in the darkness of the chamber for his assailant. He could still feel the weight of the fiery claw on his chest, and noticed a small, black thing crouched there. He attempted to touch it, and the shape of it shifted suddenly, pricking his hand painfully. It fluttered to the windowsill, and Brenylon saw the silhouette of a crow. It uttered a small caw and flew from the window out into the dull red glow of early morning.
Brenylon rose from his bed, hurrying to the window to watch the crow, which was flying to the south. He could still feel the burning of the demons claw on his chest and he opened his robe to look, expecting to see small scratches that a crows talons might leave. Instead, there was a large, ugly red mark on his chest from which pale white blisters bloomed, and an unnatural heat emanated from the mark. Brenylon ran his finger over his chest, leaving a stinging trail. The crow had not done this. It was as though his flesh had been burned by fire.
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