<----6 days went by---->
Owen lay in his bed, twisting and turning, deeply asleep. A red flame, intertwined with black, covered his right arm. The flame burned brightly but caused no damage to Owen or his surroundings; it stuck to his arm.
His palm was closed, the flame burning brightly on it as if condensing within. In his dream, Owen floated in a pitch-black sea with no end, under a sky with relatively few stars. Two familiar red orbs stared at him from the bottom of the sea as he floated on the surface. A glowing fin, belonging to something unseen, pierced the pitch-black surface for a few seconds, scaring Owen further, before it dove back down into the sea.
A chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room permeated Owen's dreamscape, a coldness that seeped into his very bones. The few stars above flickered as if struggling to stay lit, their dim light barely piercing the oppressive darkness. The red orbs beneath him pulsed with an unsettling rhythm, a silent, predatory thrum that echoed the frantic beating of his own heart.
He tried to swim, to propel himself away from the unseen horrors below, but his limbs felt heavy, unresponsive, as if bound by invisible chains. Panic, sharp and acrid, began to claw at his throat. He opened his mouth to scream, but only a gurgle escaped, swallowed by the vast, silent void.
The glowing fin appeared again, closer this time, its bioluminescent edges casting an eerie, fleeting light on the churning surface of the dark sea. It circled him, a phantom predator, each pass sending ripples of terror through his frozen form.
He could feel its immense presence, the sheer, unfathomable size of it just beneath him. The red orbs intensified their glow, expanding slightly, and for a terrifying moment, Owen felt a distinct pull from below, as if something was attempting to drag him down into the lightless depths.
He thrashed, a desperate, futile struggle against the unseen force. His muscles screamed in protest, but the pull intensified, relentless and inevitable.
His breath hitched, and a cold sweat slicked his skin, both in the dream and in his bed. The flame on his arm, a silent sentinel, pulsed in response to his rising fear, casting a faint, flickering glow against the inside of his closed eyelids. In the dream, the glowing fin vanished, but the red orbs grew closer, rising from the abyss. They were no longer mere lights; they were eyes, ancient and malevolent, filled with a hunger that curdled Owen's blood.
He could feel their gaze, a tangible weight pressing down on him, stripping away his composure. A low, guttural growl echoed through the water, vibrating through his very core. It was a sound of immense power, of primal fury, and it was directed solely at him.
He felt the tendrils first, slimy and cold, wrapping around his ankles.
Then came the crushing pressure, tightening, pulling him deeper. He fought, but it was like fighting against the ocean itself. The surface, once a distant hope, receded further with every passing second. The stars above vanished entirely, replaced by an absolute blackness that mirrored the depths into which he was being dragged.
The red eyes loomed closer, their malice almost suffocating. He saw jagged teeth, a cavernous maw, and then, mercifully, the nightmare mercifully shifted.
He was no longer in the water, but floating in an even more profound emptiness. The red eyes were gone, replaced by whispers that seemed to emanate from the very fabric of the void. They were not words he could understand, but a chaotic symphony of agony and fury, a cacophony that threatened to shatter his mind.
Shapes, indistinct and fleeting, swirled around him, coalescing for a moment before dissolving back into the darkness. He felt a profound sense of despair, a crushing weight of hopelessness that settled over him like a shroud. This was not just a nightmare; it was an invasion, a violation of his deepest sanctuary.
The flame on his arm, though invisible to his dream self, began to pulse more rapidly, its heat a desperate counterpoint to the encroaching cold of the void.
A sharp, searing pain ripped through his right arm, a phantom ache that mirrored the burning on his physical limb. It was as if the dream entity was trying to tear its way out, to use his very being as a conduit. He let out a strangled cry, a sound that was swallowed by the silence of the dream.
He could feel something pushing, straining against the confines of his dream, pressing against the very essence of his being. The whispers intensified, becoming a piercing shriek that resonated deep within his skull. He thrashed in his bed, his body arching, his right arm twitching uncontrollably. The flame on his arm flared, briefly illuminating the room in a harsh, crimson glow.
The condensation on his palm seemed to vibrate with an unseen energy, its heat growing more intense with each passing second. He was a vessel, unwillingly, unknowingly, on the precipice of something terrible.
The pushing continued, relentless, more insistent than before, accompanied by a wave of cold so profound it felt like death. It felt as if icy fingers were reaching into his chest, squeezing the very air from his lungs.
The oppressive darkness of the dream fractured, replaced by fleeting glimpses of his bedroom – the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains, the familiar shape of his wardrobe. The transition was jarring, disorienting, like being ripped from one reality into another without warning.
The feeling of being dragged down remained, a phantom weight on his chest, even as his senses began to register the familiar textures and sounds of his room.
His eyes snapped open, and he gasped, sucking in a ragged breath. The lingering dread of the nightmare clung to him, a suffocating blanket of fear.
His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of the night. He was disoriented, unsure for a moment if he was still trapped in the oppressive darkness of the dream. Then he saw it.
Standing at the foot of his bed, bathed in the pale moonlight, was a figure that defied explanation. It was vaguely humanoid in shape, but twisted and elongated, its limbs too thin, its features blurred and indistinct. Two crimson eyes, burning with malevolent intelligence, fixed on him.
They were the same eyes from the dream, and a fresh wave of icy terror washed over him, more potent than anything he had felt in the nightmare.
A strangled cry tore from Owen's throat. "No! What... what are you?" His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, laced with pure, unadulterated fear. He scrambled back against the headboard, his eyes wide with disbelief and terror. The creature took a step towards him, its movements fluid and unnatural, and a silent promise of violence hung in the air.
Panic seized Owen. He instinctively threw his right arm up in front of him, a futile gesture of defense. The red and black flames still flickered around his forearm, though he was only dimly aware of them in his terror. The creature lunged.
It moved with terrifying speed, a blur of distorted limbs and malevolent intent. Owen squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for impact, for the cold touch he had felt in his dream. But it never came. Instead, a searing heat erupted from his right hand.
He flinched and opened his eyes. The creature was not on him. It had passed through him, an incorporeal horror, but as it did, the condensed flame on his palm, which he hadn't even consciously registered, flared with unimaginable intensity. The moment the creature's shadowy form brushed against the fiery energy, it erupted in a silent inferno of the same red and black flames that adorned Owen's arm.
The creature recoiled, its form flickering and spasming as the flames consumed it. No sound escaped its spectral lips at first, and then a high-pitched, unearthly howl ripped through the quiet of the night. It was a sound of pure agony and fury, a sound that clawed at Owen's sanity. The creature thrashed, its burning form casting grotesque shadows across the walls. The room filled with the acrid smell of something burning, something not of this world.
Owen could only stare, paralyzed by fear and disbelief, as the impossible unfolded before him. The creature continued to writhe and howl, the flames clinging to its insubstantial form, before it finally began to dissipate, its burning essence fading into nothingness, leaving behind only the lingering smell of burnt..welp burnt something and the frantic pounding of Owen's heart.
The red and black flames on his arm dimmed, returning to their usual steady burn, the condensation on his palm receding. He was left trembling, soaked in a cold sweat, staring at the empty space where the nightmare had become terrifyingly real. He was awake, in his room, but the line between his dreams and reality had just been irrevocably shattered.