Vaermina's Summoning Day

A black forest, lit by lightning. Skeletal trees clawed the murky sky, gnarled and twisted like the face of a tortured man. The Imperial collapsed into the clearing, eyes ablaze with terror, as his feet finally gave way beneath him. The rabid barking grew ever nearer. The wretch in the mud closed his eyes, but that action provided no respite. Burning through his eyelids, the vision of a howling woman's face, cruelly beautiful in the dark, was the last sight he took in. Then only oblivion, and the shapeless feeling of drowning.

Florius sat up suddenly and looked around with bloodshot eyes, his angular Nibenese features lending him the appearance of a startled hawk. As his breathing gradually slowed, Florius' fingers traced a line down the back of his neck, absent-mindedly searching for some trace of the wound he'd felt inflicted mere moments before. They came away trembling, slick with cold sweat. Just a nightmare. Florius sighed and leant back in bed, and let his eyes close once more.

The face again, sharp with a sickening grin. So eager to return to my domain, mortal?

Florius jerked up, and toppled out of his bed, scrabbling for his shortsword. He held it aloft with a shaking arm. Whatever he'd seen wasn't natural, wasn't right. Of that much he was sure. Florius racked his brain. Some of the men he'd fought beside back in the war had experienced night terrors; they woke up screaming of the massacres on the Rumare, or the last, horrific assault on Solitude and the Dead Legions, but Florius had always been a sound sleeper. He lowered his sword and listened. Silence. He was alone in his house. The Imperial flung open the curtains beside his bed and stared out into the night. It was early morning, on the 10th of Sun's Height. The town was deserted, and the windows dark, save for one glimmer across the river. Florius squinted. It was the Chapel of the Divines.

Ten minutes later, Florius was at the door. He reached out, and hesitated. Was he being ridiculous? He closed his eyes, and the image of the lady from his nightmare shot to the forefront of his mind. He pushed open the heavy door, and stumbled in, out of the humid night. Across the hall, he saw a single priest, knelt in front of the altar. "You're here about the nightmares, I suppose?" the old man asked, without turning. Something in his voice held Florius back. Anger, perhaps. Or despair?

"Aye, priest," Florius answered, shocked, "How did you know?"

"You are the seventh today, and the sun has yet to rise. I have done all I can to protect my sheep, yet I fear I am not enough to hold this town against the dark Lady. Not tonight."

The old man hung his head. Florius frowned. "What do you speak of? Who threatens us? Can I be of aid?"

"Alas, I think not. I've experienced this but twice before, in all my years of service. The day, boy. Think!"

Florius' brow furrowed. "The day, it's..." A cold feeling crept down his neck. The answer eluded him, but a far-off voice in his mind screamed a name.

"It's the summoning day, child. Of Nightmare. Of-"

"Vaermina." Florius whispered. A chill swept the room. The priest nodded wordlessly.

"She is the one responsible for your pain, and the pain of this entire town. I have seen such terrors before. Somewhere beyond the wall, in the fetid wilds yonder, a coven of her worshipers are calling her down through the skies as we speak."

"And what of my dreams? Why are they so? Never before have I felt such horror..." Florius shuddered. He knew a part of his mind was still stuck in the mire of that dreadful forest.

"I cannot say for sure, my child. Some believe her cultists siphon the minds of the innocent to provide the dark magicks to summon the Lady,  others that they are mere gifts from her followers. It matters little; the pattern is the same. Vaermina is summoned, to grant boons for her witches, and wherever it occurs, a plague of the mind ensnares the people." the priest replied, his eyes deep with sorrow.

"Nightmares, you mean? For one night? This does not seem so bad a plague as you claim, priest!" Florius exclaimed.

"The nightmares are but one symptom of her dreaded curse. She seeks memory. Memory is a treasure to her, and she tears it from those who sleep," whispered the priest, "You escaped your nightmare - most do not."

"By Cephorus, what do you mean?" Florius cried, aghast, as the truth began to dawn.

"You are one of the lucky ones, boy. Come tomorrow, those unawakened will be dead. Vaermina, her... her feasting takes a terrible toll. Soon enough her victims will have forgotten their own names. In an hour, they will have forgotten how to breathe. This is the curse of Vaermina's summoming day... and neither magic nor might can reverse her hypnosis." Neither man spoke.

"Can we not waken them?" Florius pleaded. The old man shook his head, and a single tear fell to the floor.

"They are locked within, now. Had I found out earlier, it may have been possible. But now... alas. The night is too far gone. All we can do is wait for the dawn, and see how many else escaped their nightmares." Silence crept into the chapel once more. Florius felt a sudden urge to sit down. Too late, Florius felt his eyelids drop.

I knew you'd be back soon. The nightmares of a soldier are always the most amusing.

Just before he lost consciousness, Florius heard the priest begin to speak. "O Lady Vaermina, I pledge these minds to you..."