For many days the giant slept, unable to resist the need to close his eyes. Iaurdagnire had grown tired of waiting, endlessly staring out into the soft and warm forest around him. They would not know it yet, but ever pinker skies were omens of their demise, and an end which The Fortress didn't know how to prevent.

His high walls were crumbling.

Sleep is where he could see him. Hiding in the dark. The moment he closed his eyes he had thrown himself before Him, into a place where nightmares reign; where there prowled a wolf ready to break him.

The following pieces of writing are from a mini-event held on his biography where I invited others to write a nightmare (ordered by intensity; some contain gore and death). They are all brilliant, and each one a catalyst. Thank you to everyone who wrote one; you were all inspiring.

Close your eyes and when reality's weave starts to unravel, the black fog of dreams comes creeping.
For some it brings pleasant chimaeras or strange visions; for some, it brings the dark matter of the Void, the oozing nightmares and fata morganas of unimaginable horror.

Iaurdagnire's sleep brings him no rest. Small bits and fleeting pieces of dreams plague him, none of them making sense and none of them so frightening they bring him awake. He forgets them as quickly as they come, but they leave an uneasy feeling behind...

They melt together, forming a sticky dream-web; moments clotting together into a long, uninterrupted timeline. He is back in the sea, on that barren rock he stood on (it seems so long ago now, and yet there he is again), the tangy odour of salt and dark storm-clouds heavy in the air. Air... there is no air in his lungs, no, he spent it all trying to run from it, but you can't run in the sea... you can't run on this little sorry piece of slippery rock far out in the ocean.
In the dream he can see himself from above; a small Iaurdagnire on a bright rock in the black water, calling out to friends in a forest far away. So far away -- can they really hear him? Do they care? Panic rises in his chest as water splashes around his hooves. The water is rising, the tide is coming in.

Suddenly, it is as if he has two pair of eyes: one that watches the coming storm while the other observes the calm Forest. He called to them, he tried to reach out -- and yes! There they are, his friends and loved ones, amassing on the mossy rocks of the Playground! Despair is blown away by hope, a heartfelt hope -- they will bring him back.

But no. They stand on the stones, staring silently at him. No one calls him. No one utters a single sound; they just stare with hard eyes and indifferent expressions.

Insignificance.

One by one they walk away, no even casting a glance on him. They didn't come to help him, only to mock and watch as he is swallowed by the sea. The forest backdrop twist and turns; the familiar playground rocks sinking into the sea and trees creaking and snapping when the water swallows them too -- and Iaurdagnire knows, in his very soul he knows that this is his fate. Hope crushed by despair and he can hear himself wailing like a lost child.

...and so, on the horizon he can see it. A wave far greater than the rest, a wolf among sheep. It comes for him, with large jaws reaching from the bottom of the ocean to the sky above, sharp teeth waiting for him. It doesn't hurry; it knows he can't escape. Trembling on the sinking rock, the only thing he can do is wait and wait and know what will come.

The world isn’t natural in this place. The atmosphere is dark, brooding, rolling. The sand is not pale under their hooves; it is bruised and dark with the violent rolling of the bloody-violet clouds. Dark greens, blacks and reds feeding through in veins and illuminate occasionally with false lighting. The ocean swirls and roars aside the shoreline with vengeance. It swells high and violently, almost beginning to form a curling wall. The waves are as dark and bruised as the sand. It could snap and lash out at the shore at any moment, but it stays. Rolling. Threatening to snap out and engulf the world.

They walk together, The Fortress and the Raven, along the dark sands. They both empathise. Both pawns in bigger games, only to able move forward once and never allowed to take steps back. They revel in the silence, needing no reason to speak. The brooding tempest was growing taller, as it threatened to swallow them whole; all it needed was a trigger.

And then a crack could be heard similar to a trees. The Fortress would halt, and look to the water. In the watery wall he could see them. A great oak would burn and fall, as it crushed others beneath it. The tops of the old church and ruins began to crumble to dust and the crying mother ceased to cry as the pond dried up. Their bodies were there too. Wudiin. Ravenflight. The forest dried and began to ignite; flames licking the trees and others hungrily. There was nowhere to go.

When I sat beside you I felt a tempest swirling.
When I slept beside you I felt an inferno dance with it.

The fortress turns to the Raven, but there is something different about her. Her eyes no longer glowed and her expression no longer welcoming. She began to walk towards the ocean, edging him closer and closer to the watery wall.
They are standing right against it now. Behind him is a large tempest, a watery wall. Behind it a world he knew was burning alive, but he could never be certain if the water played tricks.

And then she lowered her head, her two small prongs no match against his branching antlers. But he would not fight back. It was a danger unseen.

“All it needs is a trigger.”

She lunged at him with a ferocity unknown, her two prongs digging shallowly into his side, as they both broke through the curtain. The waves fractured and threw themselves at the coastline. In the watery depths a fortress was sinking, the weight of the world curled in his antlers. He could not swim upward.

She floated there, above him. Her fur no longer blue. Her feathers no longer green. She was sickly, gaunt. Eyes turned to whites and pieces of flesh began to peel from her bones. She would watch him sink.

All Seed could do was listen to the screaming. It crowded his nostrils and his ears like smoke. The screaming sounded like the thundercracking of branches. Like the sloughing off of blackened bark, exposing the weak, white underflesh. Like the hiss of a shower of sparks as the pieces hit the backening, livid orange-lit earth.

Only Seed could hear this screaming, the last screaming in the world. The rest of them had run now, the deer. The real deer had run away to real places. Some had begged him to go, but more had lept around him in a tide -- even the tide had fled this place. Now it was only him and Iaurdagnire. The great deer, the great friend, stamped his hoof.

"Why won't you go? Don't you care for life? Please!"

Seed had never seen a wolf while awake, but he knew it, reflected in his friend's eyes. He saw it, the beast behind him, the great flame rending the forest to shreds with his teeth. Seed trembled.

"I can't go. I cannot. They were real -- they can go to real places. I'm just the poor dream of the forest... And it's time to wake up."

In the end, his roots had him shackled to the ground. He nudged his friend with his nose. The monster was behind him now, that black breath on his neck and in his throat. He could feel the heat crackling through his skin and singing his fur.

"But --"

"Go. I want you to live. Go be in real places."

That was how he explained it. Dag's eyes widened, showing more and more of the lurid light that was behind Seed, looming over him, the slavering jaws open, showering sparks and smoke like slobber.... The great stag bolted, just as Seed was bolted to the Forest beneath him.

"Real things can only be with real things.... So it's foolish. Please, don't worry about me. Just knowing you, seeing you one last time... was... such.... an honor."

He called after, weakly. As he tried, always tried, to pull a smile for his friend, his dried lips began to crack and bleed. His scorched skin began to shatter and shred.

""I wonder... What..."

He never finished the sentence, if he even knew what it was. Iaurdagnire turned one last time to see a tree covered in flowers in the wolf's jaws, shattering in a single bite. All Dag could do was listen to the snapping.

Night was a symbol of beauty, of respite - the forest glowed under the moon's light, and its residents slept under its promise of safety; and yet, it was also a symbol of nightmares and death - the reverberating screams of the chosen victims wound their way through, the only sound in the following silence being the faint shuffle of something being dragged, further and further into the unending darkness.

Things stalked in the night, black silhouettes dancing in the dull light of the moon; eerie songs and the all too familiar echo of dragging feet vibrated in the giant's ears. His ears twitched, and he could feel a faintly familiar chill as it crept its way up his spine, before colliding with the base of his neck. He shook his head in response, and somewhere deep within him his stomach curled, and his heart raced.

Was he awake? Was he asleep? He couldn't tell; his eyes were wide open, images flickering towards and away from his vision. Still, his mind felt clouded and sedated; the images seem to blur and unblur as he attempted to form and keep a conscious. He thought he could hear the snapping of jaws, and the gruff hushes of growls, lullabies of predators that chained a prey's feet to the very ground they stood on. Even he, iron willed Iaurdagnire, found it impossible to move; the only thing he could feel, and hear his body do in reply, was the near choking sensation of a hard swallow, the distinct slurping noise the only thing answering the not so foreign noises.

"Dag?"

Instinctively, he swivelled around gracefully, his tines jetting outwards; they nearly collided with the familiar desert brown shape that was Lacie. The shape shifter jerked her head backwards, a sharp bark snapping him from his defensive stance. Her eyes were like saucers - she was a frightened wild animal, though her stance indicated her resolve to fight should it occur.

He tried to open his mouth to speak, and yet oddly found himself unable to. The Thylacine tilted her head in confusion as her eyes dilated back to their calm gaze. She nodded, once, approaching his then calmed form; her head, neck, and shoulders just barely brushed against his chest, and he felt himself completely relax at her touch.

"Tonight sure is cold, hn?" She asked. Again, his voice failed him; he nodded in reply instead. Moving to his side, she laid down, scratching the ground with her paw, gesturing him to join her. He did so.

"I hope you don't mind if I use you a pillow or blanket, heh." He attempted a friendly chuckle, yet his head jerked to the side as the attempt nearly choked him. The shape shifter either noticed it, and ignored it, or didn't notice it at all; she made no move to comfort or ask him anything. Instead, he turned to find her fast asleep beside him, though his ears caught her voice, scratchy and quiet from tiredness.

"Don't worry about the boogey men, silly. You're safe with me." Her tone was playful, yet sincere, and no sooner did his chin tap the ground did his eyes seal closed, his deep breathing shaking his entire frame.

What he couldn't see through his tired eyelids shortly before he succumbed was a sly smile spreading across her face. What his breathing drowned out was her voice, sickly sweet like honey laid out a tick too long.

"For now at least."

As his eyes forced themselves open, he noticed that the forest was still dark. Fog skirted around him, and he was momentarily spooked by the brisk chortles of an owl nearby. Turning his head slightly, he noticed that his companion was still beside him, her stripes nearly invisible against her fur with the way the light hit her body.

"Morning, Dag."

Morning? It was still night to him. He also noticed that her voice seemed thicker and sweeter than the usual. Puzzled, he lifted his head up to look at her.

And the chill that coursed through him made his entire body quake.

It was her body. Her brown fur, her stripes, her everything; save for her face. Instead of the boxy Thylacine head that differentiated her from any other predator, there was the skull of a wolf. Deep black sockets glowered down at him, yet he could feel the sense of victory and glee that lay hidden in their depths. He attempted to move, but the fear had paralysed his entire body. His mind screamed, but his body remained still. A deep chuckle rumbled from her throat, approving of his terror.

"Iaurdagnire, Iaurdagnire, did you sleep well?"

He tried to scream, to bellow, to rise and run. But as the wolf face inched closer, the breath that escaped her nose and mouth passed between them chilling his face, keeping him frozen to his spot.

"For now you shall come with me to the depths of Hell."

The last he would see was her mouth opening wide, near symmetrical to her entire face, much like that of the Thylacine he remembered. The last he would feel was the near numb sensation of her teeth raking across his throat.

The last he would hear was the sickening squishing of her jaws ripping his throat wide open.

She was being hunted. That much she knew. The wind had been powerful, foreboding.

..was it the wind hunting her? No. That was silly. But with the wind brought the scent of wolf, and that terrified her. Brought her back to the days outside the forest, where she watched the wolves pick off her herd because of her.

She continued on. She didn't want to spend the day alone; not with this feeling. She'd find a friend, and keep their company until things had calmed down.

Kaoori sniffed the air, searching for the scent of a friend. Over the smell of wolf, she could scent a familiar, comforting one- Iaurdagnire. Prince of the Seasons. She headed that way immediately, convinced she was being followed by an unseen foe.

But he'd help her. He'd always been a strong, stalwart friend. He'd know how to deal with this.

As she reached dandelion hill, she called out to him.

----

Iaurdagnire was sitting on his favourite spot on Dandelion Hill. The spring winds had picked up; things were not usual at all. It was always said spring came in fiercely. The smell of wolf was strong in the air. But he knew better.

"Dag-sama!"

His head turned to the voice, and he saw his little blue shika friend heading toward him, looking rather frazzled. The wind was fierce behind her, almost propelling her toward him. When she reached the top of the hill, and began to bound toward him, she called his name again.

"Dag-sama, it's so good to see you agai--"

A violent gust of wind cut through the air like a knife, a snarling sound echoing as it whirled around.

And Kaoori's head fell clear off her neck, rolling toward him, a smile still cruelly planted on her muzzle as she stared up at him almost accusingly.

He awoke to a silent forest shrouded in deep mist. Void of birdsong, absence of even the lightest breeze to animate his thick fur.

Not even the distant calls of those he shares the forest with.

Solitude.

Perhaps this was normal though. The giant recalls what lies within the chilling of the seasons. This must surely be some sort of prank the world was pulling towards him. He took comfort in that idea, so warily he made his way to the pond - it was always very alive down there.

But it wasn't, he observed. Around it the willows stood barren, the shores themselves, usually teeming with life had shrivelled and died.

The air smelt of somewhere far away. Salt and rot. Deja vu, he had lived through this before, or perhaps dreamed it?

He shyed away from the shores edge and with a deep commanding voice, he bellowed out. "Show yourself!"

It whispered in the wind, a dry and bitter breeze. The water started to shape before the great giant, but there was no set image to come forth and meet him.

Iaurdagnire, Iaurdagnire...

He listened.

Too long you have fooled yourself to believe.
That against me, you could possibly stand triumphant.
Dearest Iaurdagnire, how easily you are mislead.
For you do not hunt me. I hunt you.

And so Iaurdagnire braced himself for what he came to expect, the formidable violence of spring had left him scarred in the past, and it was a horror he believed could overcome.

But nothing happened. The breeze ceased to exist and the giant found himself so very alone once more.

The strike never did come. He was never blatantly attacked by the spirit. And so he waited. No one came, nothing lived, and Iaurdagnire watched himself grow old throughout a fragmented eternity.

And he was alone throughout it all.

Spring knew his strength, and in his nightmares, took it from him.

It wasn't Springtime.

The temperature was at a midpoint, horribly balanced in-between comfort and discomfort. No warmth, but no cool. A collision of reaction and feeling, all mixed up, ending with no answer. One would not feel tired, but neither energised. A horrible meeting point in time.

It seemed an empty day too. There were no faces here. The pond was shallow, but the sky looked ready to snow; like a bad memory of the land, it was wrong. There was nothing The Fortress could do nothing but sit, and wait. For a long dwindling hour of plain, violent nothing. A disruptive chaos that would pass, but would harm; would not differ towards anyone. It was all nothing.

"The stars!"

A lark's voice reached his ears. The soft tread of feet through grass, at an odd juddering pace; too fast would make oneself too hot very quickly, but too slow and they'd become cold. No change was allowed.

Then a pause, before some form nearby came close. But...

"Don't you want to say hello, stranger?"

"...I....would. But my eyes-,"

There was nothing. It wasn't blindness, and the stag could still feel them in their sockets. The world was grey.

"Why, they're full of smoke! And stars! And flowers and leaves, and dragon's wings; you'd call me jealous, good sir, if you had much of a voice today, hmm?"

He stood up, bewildered by such an answer. He did not think to ask again, for there was probably little this- now obviously female, via her voice - doe could do anyway. He knew where to go, and where she was, and sometimes even what he was looking at. But Iaurdagnire could see nothing the whole time.

"Do let's go to the pond, then. We can catch some falling ones; I think you shall enjoy it, good stag."

"What exacly are we catching?"

"Can't you see them? I've been waiting so long for this; I hope you do like it. It should be beautiful!"

When they reached the shallows, he dipped his head to the water, first for a curious drink of the very average water, then for a complete dunk of his head. The Fortress lifted his head and found the forest before his eyes, but not as he'd thought. He could make her out now; small, short-horned and gingery brown, tossing up splashes of the tide with her hooves. And all around the pond, blindingly bright objects of different pastel colours.

For a moment it was normal, but like the water dripping down his neck, it began to run like watercolours in a painting. Leaking from ferns; the green from the reeds dripped down into the world. The sky was grey, and the ground reaching up to grab what was left of its blue before it too ran away. It was not disappearing; just running, like a child's picture, turning everything blurred and strongly outlined. Too bright. Not normal.

"It's time!"

"What do you m-" Cut short as the vision before his eyes changed, he choked in shock, reeling out of the water. Flashes of dark blacks and bleeding reds came before him, revealed suddenly and more frequently. There was a pause in-between every flash, but slowly, it was growing longer, until the picture was clear;

gone was the dripping colour, and the dreaming doe. Replaced by figures more sensical than the day itself had been all together, horrifically. He recognized forms coming from between the trees, and he'd recognize a face here and there, before it was gone and moved to another body. His friends, anyone he called family. Anyone he'd met. Any ties. All dripping red, until the world was something painful.

Then one broke to the front. The doe, the starchaser one. She leapt first. And the forest followed.

It was a surge of bodies, bleeding red in agony and anger. A tide of rage, scapegoating Iaurdagnire's fading blue colours, turning into grey as he turned and ran. Up around the pond, towards the oak, and then further. Never pausing to stop and look behind him, to see all his bonds reaching out, baying for his blood. Simply running forever in that nothing of a day.

But it was the Endless Forest. He tired, and slowed. As he dared to, there was a sudden feeling, a burning hot heat at his heels. The sound of the ripping of tendons, the drawing of sharp teeth, the snarls of a feral canine.

"It's time!"

Spring disappeared into a white oblivion, as the forest burst into fire. The stag could not move. He waited to be consumed by the flames, but stood by to watch everything burn. Everything, and everyone.

“No!” The doe shrieked, twisting away from the “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

Spring was attacking her, intent on killing her. He was entirely red, as if he had no fur, and he seemed to drip like he was made of blood. His face was a skull now, grinning cruelly at the doe under his paws.

“DAG!” Ryff cried out as the wolf caught her flank and she stumbled over, her side torn by the force of his head shaking. Tears streamed down the tiny doe’s face as she tried to get to her feet and run away, but she could only strike at the air uselessly. “HELP! Please..!”

But Dag was frozen. He could only watch as the wolf continued to attack the orange doe. “NO!” He yelled, but they couldn’t hear.

“DAAG!” She yelled as Spring’s jaws closed on her throat. The doe bleated weakly and kicked at him, her hooves merely sliding through his bloody body. “NO!”

“Why don’t you help her, Iaurdagnire?” the wolf growled, as if he was right next to Dag’s ear. “Why don’t you help her?”

Dag couldn’t move. His vision swam and blurred, turning red and tunnelled. He sank to the ground, even though he felt like he was running forward. But he was getting no closer.

Ryff screamed as the wolf ripped her throat out, her shrieks becoming a guttural, wet sound as blood sprayed from her neck. Quickly, she stopped twitching and simply lay still, laying in a pool of blood.

“You traitor...” Spring spat. “You didn’t even try.”

The blood wolf walked back over to his kill and dug his claws into her shoulder, the flesh melting away and causing the ground around her to burn for a moment. With nothing but bones left, Spring stepped back and let the bones reanimate for a split second and stare at Dag pleadingly, emptily, before they fell back and melted into the ground.

Dag could stand now, but Spring was gone. He raced over to where he had seen the doe die, sinking to the now-black ground. He looked around desperately, as if verifying that it was indeed a dream. To his horror, he saw his friends behind him.

“I can’t believe you just..” one of them started. Her lip quivered and she walked away, the flesh melting away and then the bone.

“Traitorous scum!” “Worthless!” “Murderer!” They said, and in turn they walked away and evaporated.

“No..please...” Dag murmured at their words. “NO!” He could only watch them all die as he ceased to move. He wanted to run to them, but he was trapped yet again.

As the last of them trailed off and died, the forest erupted into flame around him. “NO!” He yelled, trapped in place. Spring appeared before him, towering over him like a sequoia over the forest floor.

“Why didn’t you save them, Iaurdagnire? You worthless wretch!” Spring leaped over Iaurdagnire and vanished into the flames, but Dag could feel the eyes burning holes in his neck.

“N-AAAAAUUUUGCH!” The bull burst into flame as well and quickly flipped inside out, screaming in agony the whole time. His organs lay scattered around him and exploded, then the rest of his flesh. His bones continued to feel, continued to burn, continued to scream. They slowly melted into the soil, and the screaming was silenced. The world went black.

Spring stared right at Dag, surrounded by black oblivion.

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

"Iaurdagnire!"

A shudder ran through the core of trees adolescent and ancient alike as the thunderous voice resounded through woodland, reaching the ears of the Scar-Giant as he grazed in a patch of sunlight, oblivious to the happenings around him. The violent shift in nature - the altered course of the wind, the haunted silence of the birds and other fauna, the bent backs of flowers and roots as they recoiled into themselves - did not appear to concern the Eucladoceros, even when the voice shattered the peace of his noon-day meal. He was apathetic, unconcerned. Perhaps a touch annoyed by the interruption.


Thick boughs, pale and dark, snapped with little effort, were hurtled feet away from the trees from which they came. The silent giants shuddered, bowed their heads as the howl of the wind lashed viciously at what it could. The giant watched this phenomenon occur with the same air of nonchalance. As if it could sense this, the wind hit a higher pitch, swept toward him with the force of a tidal wave. Iaurdagnire staggered against its impact, then finally turned his eyes to the clearing to seek its source.


From the wreckage of underbrush and mutilated trees, surrounded by a flurry of autumn leaves and the wrath of the wind, The Monarch advanced, head low, unseen eyes locked onto his friend. Fresh blood coated his front, gore clung to the matted mane, dyed scarlet from what had appeared to be a frightening massacre. Hackles were lifted high, uncharacteristic of a bull elk. His stiff, hasty movement as he stormed toward Iaurdagnire betrayed the murderous intent behind his visit. As he neared, the trinket dangling from his antlers - an earth key - swung into sight with the rhythm of his walk. The two forest green orbs dangling on either side of the key, secured by small silver wires, were aglow with a green, voluminous light that was the source of the unexplained tempest storm of wind and nature.


"Iaurdagnire!" Esll roared, halting before the giant. A closer look revealed heavy tear tracks cutting through the crimson stains, leading back to empty eye sockets. "Iaurdagnire. Take responsibility for your demon before it ravages our home!" As if to back up his plea, a distant crash shuddered the earth and a plume of smoke lifted from the treetops.


Iaurdagnire followed the dark trail with weary eyes. At length, he sighed. "I can't do much more than you have done to stop him. It is hopeless. He will not hear me any longer. I'm sorry I brought you all to this doom."


The butterfly stag snapped. "You selfish, weak-minded son of a bastard!" You would not say such things if you knew what it has done to me!" Sharpened fangs of his mask buried themselves in the tough scar of Iaurdagnire's shoulder, yanked him forward while a furious wind shoved at the giant's backside. "You will see for yourself what your abandonment has done!"


After a brief tussle with the larger bull, Esll wrestled him into submission and half-dragged him back the way he had come, grunts of exertion and rage emanating from the hollow skull. After a few moments he was assured Iaurdagnire would follow, and released his bleeding skin to jog ahead. The Scar-Giant picked up his own hooves to match the other's pace, sympathy for the poor soul welling in his breast. The two wove through charred trees; ash rose up in a light flurry around their pounding hooves. Smoke and sulphur suffocated them, strangled their lungs. Ahead, The Monarch's shoulders began to shudder and a strangled cry bubbled from his lips. Iaurdagnire frowned, looked ahead. It was then that he saw it.


He shouldn't have been surprised. It was only a corpse; there were plenty lying around, slain by rampaging Spring. But this corpse stopped him in his tracks. Jade eyes, cat-like and alluring, had clouded over but stared sightlessly, accusingly up at him. Ash coated the inside of her mouth and a bloodied tongue hung limply past parted jaws with missing teeth. The silver doe's limbs were twisted, thrown about in abnormal directions - one leg was partially gone, burned off by wild flames; the lower portion was nothing but charred bones. But perhaps the most appalling and grotesque aspect of the body was the massive hole blown into her belly. Black organs lay in a heap beside the shredded skin and blood that oozed out to water the ground. In the mess of gore, a few feet away from the hole, was a small, bloodied forelimb and the tiny, severed head of a newborn fawn.


The Monarch had fallen to his knees beside the carcass in a fit of agony. His head swung back and he wailed; the cry was met moments later with the distant, beastly roar of Spring. Then, as if the Sea Wolf's reply called him back to attention, he turned to fix the stunned Iaurdagnire with tear-filled, maniacal eyes. "Traitor! Murderer! You will pay for this sin, Iaurdagnire!"


The key shone with the same light. Thick roots sprang up from the ruined ground, wove their bodies around the giant's ankles so tight the circulation was cut off. Iaurdagnire stiffened in surprise, tugged at his bonds. He looked to the other stag. "I'm sorry.. this has.. ha-"


"Silence! She didn't deserve this! How could you!?" Esll lowered his antlers and scooped the remains up in his tines. Shredded intestines hung from his tines like strands of Christmas garlands. He approached Iaurdagnire with a demonic gleam in his dark eyes, and placed the body on his great shoulders. The giant winced and swallowed back the bile in his throat at the wet, sticky sensation that spilled all over his hide with the addition of the weight. More roots rose from the ground to arrest him. These coiled around his stomach and back, roping the doe's body on top of him. The Monarch returned a moment later with his unborn son or daughter's head and limb - they were placed securely by its mother's head and kissed farewell.


"What are-"


"You will go with her to the Otherworld. There, she will haunt you till you beg for your eyes to be dished out from their sockets and your ears torn from your head."

"Esll, this is madness!"

"YOU are the fool here! You let this happen! You lost control of the seasons. Look what it's cost you! YOUR LIFE!"

The petrifying howl of a thousand wolves but of one voice ended the sentence of the raving dark stag, followed by the thuds and quakes of an approaching monster. Esll smiled - an insane, berserk sort of smile. A scorched tree nearby erupted in tongues of flame, devouring the corpse until it joined its ashy brethren on the ground. Churning lava cascaded down the trunk of another tree, reduced that one to nothing. And in the clearing stood Spring, cords of fiery saliva dripping from grinning jaws. Blazing eyes flickered with triumph as he stared down at Iaurdagnire from his great height.


"Esll.. At least give me the chance to defend myself."

"Did she get a chance?" The dark stag cackled, then screamed, "DIE, YOU COWARD!"


The wolf sprung, consumed The Monarch in a tumult of dagger fangs and hissing magma. Then Spring turned his sights to the Keeper of Seasons, and swallowed him and the corpse down a burning throat. Iaurdagnire's scream was silenced in a heartbeat.

“Iaurdagnire.”
“…”
“Iaurdagnire.”
“…!”
With a jolt, the giant found himself awake. When he tried to shake his antlers, he found himself stuck. Opening his mouth in frustration, Iaurdagnire quickly realized that he was mute. Eyes thrown wide in surprise, he did the only thing he could manage—he looked up.
A snarling wolf stood above him. Its lips curled back into a snarl, not unlike a smirk or a grin.
“You have given in, as I knew you must.”
Iaurdagnire struggled to speak again, defiance flaring in his eyes. Looking down, he managed to see a flash of yellow—dandelions? Watching him struggle, the wolf leaned down, speaking quietly beside his face. The voice was like the crackling of flame on dying trees.
“Did I not tell you that you could not control all? Fool. Let me show you.” The wolf snarled quietly, pulling its muzzle back. As it stepped, fire crept up the dandelions tied around Iaurdagnire’s body, keeping him in place. They withered in the fire, turning black and crisp as the fell around the giant’s hooves. Slowly, Iaurdagnire got to his feet, casting a look of contempt at the wolf.
“Follow, servant.”
With another mocking grin, it bounded off into the forest, leaving a smoldering trail in its wake. With a resolute air, the stag trotted down the hill. As he reached the bottom of the hill, a wave of ash and heat swept across his face, forcing him to close his eyes.
When he opened his great dark eyes, he gasped. Before him was an utter wasteland. Fire smoldered at the roots of trees or flared up in great patches. All was ashes and flame, a gray, parched earth speckled with hellish oranges and red. Something…
Something else was wrong. Growing frustrated with the clinging dandelions, he ripped and tore at them with a hoof, but they were as hard as steel. Spring trotted up to stand beside him, lowering its head to study his reaction. Seeing the defiance still glittering in the blue stag’s eyes, he grinned and laughed, a horrible noise. Dag fought the urge to cover his ears, keeping his head raised proudly.
He would face this, here and now.
Spring smirked.
“Walk, Iaurdagnire. See. They are calling to you.” With that, he was gone again, trotting off into the ruined forest.
“Iaurdagnire…Dag…Dag…” The call came softly, but the blue stag could hear the quiet desperation in it. Ears pinned back, he forced himself to walk towards it, stopping abruptly as he nearly tripped over the deer laying on the ground.
“Dag…” Oseaan’s body, smoldering quietly, rested on the forest floor. Patches of fur were burned away, exposing shiny pink flesh. Her head was thrown back in an unnatural position; it was clear the doe’s neck was broken. Her eyes were merely sockets, deep, empty pits. Blood trickled in a small line from her mouth, tracing red in the white fur. Dag stumbled backwards, escaping the terrible sight. His eyes were wide with horror and his heart was racing, pounding in his chest.
No. No...Why?
Iaurdagnire forced himself to focus. Turning away from the horrible sight, his ears lifted, straining for the sound that had drawn him here.
“Iaurdagnire…” The sound seemed to come from the very trees. It would have been peaceful at any other time, but now they seemed to whisper insidiously, accusingly. The voices sounded familiar, but he couldn’t pin them down.
“Iaurdagnire.” He started, hearing the sound of a voice close by. Turning, he stumbled backwards, slipping over the burned remnants of a log.
Spring’s sharp-toothed muzzle shone from the blackness between the trees. With a leap and a bound, he landed by the doe. The entity lowered his muzzle and grabbed her by the neck, leaping off into the woods again with an inviting flick of his tail. Rage clouded the giant’s eyes. How dare he treat her like that when she was…she was…
With a grunt, Iaurdagnire took off after the wolf. He skittered over pieces of fallen birch trees, still glistening white against the ash. Spring led him across the forest, showing him the stripped trees, the ash-covered ground, the gray, black, white. It all began to whirl into one.
Suddenly, Spring stopped atop the Red Hill and let the body of Oseaan down. It landed with a soft thud in the ash, letting up a cloud of soft gray which landed upon her body like a blanket. Dag was growling with suppressed rage, tossing his antlers and threatening the wolf, who simply bowed his head.
“Do you know where you are, O Iaurdagnire? This is the Red Hill, home of your friend Virgil. Do you wonder where he is now? I assure you, even he could not escape me.” The stag stamped his hooves, glaring at the wolf, who bared its teeth.
“Do not become impudent, Iaurdagnire. Look out from here. What do you see?” Iaurdagnire looked across the ruined land. All around, the pieces of white were assembling themselves…themselves…
They formed into patterns of deer, fallen in forms of suffering, twisted in agony. He had run across their bones as he had chased the wolf.
Iaurdagnire’s head lowered and his ears pinned to his head. This couldn’t be real.
“Oh but it is, Iaurdagnire. Ahhh…I think she’s stirring.” The wolf prodded the doe, who was beginning to twitch.
“Listen. I believe she has something to tell you…” Oseaan began to stir, looking weakly up at Iaurdagnire with her empty eye sockets. Spring flicked his tail and sat, watching.
“You let him kill me, Iaurdagnire.” Oseaan was rising now, unsteady on her feet. Her head flopped limply and her mouth hung open, hardly forming the words.
"You let him burn us. You.
You betrayed us, Iaurdagnire. You left us alone. You let us burn and smolder to our deaths. You did nothing.
You only watched. You are weak.” Oseaan was drawing closer and closer to Dag, who was backing up slowly, shaking his head back and forth.
No, no, no!
Her voice was being joined by others. From the woods came other shapes, recognized as friends. All were mangled, pain flashing in their eyes, burns clear on their sides and backs. They were closing in. Worse than their appearance was the terrible sadness and the betrayal in their voices.
“You left us.”
“You promised…”
“Why did you betray me!”
“I trusted you, Dag…”
“Why, why did you let him do this?”
“You just watched us burn, Iaurdagnire…”
“You watched as he tore us apart…”
The wailing increased to a fever pitch as the does, stags and even fawns converged on the giant. In the background, Spring began to snarl.
“Look what you’ve done, traitor! They trusted you, they loved you! And you betrayed them! You let them down, Dag! They will curse your name!”
“No!”

He woke up in a cold sweat, bellowing. Above him, the crows took flight, cawing raucously. The dandelions beneath him were torn up, beheaded and spread around him. Quietly, the giant laid his head down.

In his ear whispered a voice like a hungry forest fire.

“Remember your destiny, Iaurdagnire."

It is hard to say which is worse: the fear of sleeping, or the dread of waking. I can still see the fires and smell their flesh, but they are just powerful illusions... just...
How long has it been? Have I... Seen anyone? Spoken? Eaten... Have I really slept... slowly, the waking world is making less sense than the one I appear to be acclimatising to. I have to keep telling myself that they are not the reality. I cannot make judgements on my own perceptions, but every time I slip away I understand less and less. It will happen. They will all die because of me... Why are they not turning on me... Where are they?
I've been up here for so long... T-There's no-one here...

Driving his hooves deep into the earth, Dag soared from his hill and kept true in order to reach the Pond. They melted away, here. Ravenflight... She would surely drown him now, there will be a wall at any moment...

But there was nothing. Nothing but friends who were over the moon to see him, and all he could do was stare. Smell them, touch them... There was nothing wrong with them other than the now quizical expressions they gave as they all watched their big blue giant withdraw and back away.

This is... normal... old friends... and new ones...

He treated reality as if it were a dream. Nothing is wrong, all he is good for is to play and carry others on his back like a grand chariot. To caress and run with them, splashing in the cool waters reflecting the endless sky.

Enjoy the momentary ignorance. Be with them. Nothing is wrong.

I love them all. Nothing is wrong.

In time your world will shatter, and I shall be the one to rend and split asunder. Not today, not tomorrow... perhaps not for years. You will wait for me. And you will beg of me to drag you out to my seas to slowly drown. Because as they all wilt away before you, I will let you live to witness the end you've strived to achieve, servant.

And you will be known as the mad King who lost control.

"NOELLE! N-"

... Another dream, another death. Two.
Earlier he had been to see Virgil, taking great comfort in being with children - Ciel and That. But his nightmares came and drip-fed the guilt of what disasters may come. He had to find them. Scouring the forest, he came to Esll and Noelle sitting close together on the rocks. He stopped from a level vantage point and looked to them, stared, even. It was hard not to delude himself; to see the hole in her side, the distress and sorrow in his eyes. But Esll stood, and welcomed him - they both did. Dag breathed a noticeable sigh of sanctuary.

Everything is..-
I can sleep next to them, perhaps.
They won't mind.
I'm their friend.

Dark circles showed under the creases of his lower-lids.

I am... Must...-

He is in there. There, and below my feet in all this beauty.
How can anyone wish to destroy it?
But he's right... No matter how happy you are... I took their purity by giving them everything. My life. A want for change becomes a want for nothing.

It's all I want... None of this. Of them. I am a fool for realising it. Blissful ignorance would have been my salvation long ago.

A smile turned solemn.

No-one else can see it. They don't deserve to die, but everything must in the end. I must. But yet again the wolf still has that control - he cannot kill me, not until life can no longer exist.
Easy ways out. Damn them all.

I'll sooner kill them.
If they turn on me surely he would intervene.
Force him to come... Force him... to...
Yes. Yes.

"Oh... J-Jettem, I-"

A single touch; a reminder. Dark thoughts are turned away, and everything else are just shadows. The stroke from her chin, the soft bridge of her nose under his in turn and gentle loving coos.
He sleeps. Visions only of them standing. A welcome breath of air from his inner turmoil.

They deserve his loyalty and safe-guardianship.

They deserve to be watched over as they die.

The day is warm and humid; a sticky and bitter morning to wake up to after a night of what he could truly call rest. The forest it quiet as the sun drives the world into the shade.


... Odd how today, he strolls the forest with confidence. There is no smile on his face, however.
His eyes seem to be glazed over as he settled upon Dandelion Hill. Back to square one - watching, waiting, anticipating the first to give way. The nightmares tug at his mind... pity, after being so close to recovering it.

Large Bright Eyes serve as an omen.

He will wait with the Raven-like form.
Then another.

Until the first cracks begin to show.

But they fly away, and the world is the same.

Only in his dreams does he see what he wants to see.
Even if he can do nothing; only stand and watch.