Just another dream - Saint

The book fell out of her hands into the darkness. Saint could still hear her sister’s voice echoing through her head as she watched her guilt disappear into nothingness. But, what should have been a bottomless well quickly turned into agitated water. The damned book was nowhere to be seen, but what was coming up to the surface was much more terrible. Saint felt the pit of her stomach turn painfully cold as she recognized the shapes slowly floating towards her. Butchered bodies were covering the floor, piling on each other. As she took a step back, a severed arm dragged her down. She fell onto a road covered in ash, burned flesh and sulfur filled her mind. The stone beneath her was unnaturally warm; burning through her leather armor. Every muscle in her body was begging her to crawl away, but she let her eyes look up only to meet the eyes of a dragon on the face of a child.

Agatha stood over her, illuminated by the flames around them. Their reflection danced in her eyes, but there was no warmth coming from them. She gave Saint a cruel smile as she pulled out of thin air a ceremonial dagger. The blood hunter recoiled, but found herself pulled closer to the ground. The molten leather was burning through her skin, bounding her to the stone. The dragon was much closer now, as she felt Agatha’s laugh in her ear. “If only you could do what you were meant to”, she tooks Saint's hands. The cold metal of the golden handle set her mind on fire, numbing all other sensations through her body. As she slowly closed her hand over it, Saint heard the child whisper: “here’s to finishing the job”. Blood splattered on the tiefling’s face, as she realized with horror she had stabbed Agatha.

Though she tried, her hand could not let go of the dagger buried in the chest of the child she once cared so much for. The scenery of destruction around them faded away, slowly being replaced by fields of wild flowers with an immense tree not too far away. Saint could feel the tears rolling down her face, scorching her flesh. Though she tried, her screams were muttered. There was only space for the void of silence. The blood had flowering on what was now a white robe- a perfectly fitting white sacrificial robe. Saint could not bring herself to look at the face of her victim, but their delicate hands lifted her chin. The warm smile of her little sister Aimee welcomed her. The sun behind her seemed to burn brighter for a short moment- before the blood started to drip from her mouth.

Saint’s eyes opened again to her silent party in rougher shape than she remembered.