Rae van Daleon – The Roots of the Storm

by Lea von Löwenstein

Chapter 10: The Nightmare Begins

Rae slept fitfully, her body trembling as nightmares gripped her. She clutched at the sheets, but it was futile. Her heart pounded like a hammer as images of sharpened weapons, severed hands, and tormented faces haunted her dreams. Sleep was needed, but it brought no solace.

The night outside was suffocatingly dark, as if the very breath of reality had paused. The dormitory was oppressively hot, and the stench of sweat trapped Rae in its grasp. Yet an internal warning pulled her from rest. She twisted violently in her bed, like a child trapped in a pit of snakes, and whimpered softly. Then her eyes snapped open, staring into the darkness. The night had become eternal—a false, distorted blackness, as though it knew.

Everything around her seemed to move, as if time itself had slowed. The comforting smell of soap and leather from the forge transformed into a rancid, metallic tang that choked her. She pressed her hands to her throat, but it didn’t help. The room quivered and shook, as though it were alive and writhing. Her skin prickled as though a dangerous wind swept through her.

And then she saw it.

The scene before her mind’s eye was fragmented and grim. If it had been a picture, she would have torn it from view. Faceless beings with stories of decay loomed around her. Dice with cat-like eyes spun in the air, desperate and broken. The atmosphere grew heavy, and translucent hands reached out from the darkness, grasping for her. Rae tried to resist, but it was futile.

This was no ordinary dream—it was a bloody path into the depths of the Warp. It wasn’t an ambush by an enemy or the pride of a hard-fought victory. It was something beyond human comprehension. She felt her stomach churn, but there was no relief. The images only intensified.

Sweat trickled down her forehead, mixing with the froth on her lips. “It hurts,” she murmured, sounding unlike herself. She felt as though everything around her was being ripped apart, and there was no escape. No one to hold her hand as malevolence surged unchecked.

Then she saw him.

The torturer from her dreams, his face grotesque and bloody, emerged from the shadows. An army of tireless skeletons marched across marble floors, arriving to deliver a lesson. Bloodied knives gleamed in the moonlight, and the screams of students and teachers pierced the air like the cries of worms. The atmosphere thickened as the battle erupted.

Bodies were torn apart, weapons shattered, and rivers of blood flowed. It was a massacre, a true inferno of screams and inhuman carnage. Rae’s heart ached as she saw her friends, her teachers, the family she had built here. They fought, but it was futile. They were already lost, their destruction inevitable. Her muscles tensed, but she knew it was too late.

She whispered something—a sound like a prayer. It’s time to flee, she reminded herself. But why? This world wasn’t hers to abandon. Stories of justice and resolve filled her mind. She had to help, to lead.

She recognized the hands of darkness reaching for her, a mixture of dread and a strange allure. Rae fought with every ounce of her will, yet she remained paralyzed. The burning in her muscles felt like running, but she couldn’t move. Sweat spread across her brow, and her tongue brushed the corner of her lips. She whispered, though she didn’t know what to pray for. Her sleep grew more restless, and though she tried to scream, no sound came.

And then he appeared.

A shadow in the night, a figure without identity. His face was hidden behind a layered mask, his eyes glowing like light piercing through darkness. “She will share our faith,” he sneered, his voice rippling like the waves before a flood. Then he vanished into the shadows, leaving behind a trail of fear and madness. Rivers of blood marked his passing.

Rae knew this was no ordinary threat. This wasn’t about trust or discontent. It was a rotting force intent on destroying her newfound family. A strength welled up inside her, a mixture of dignity and fear.

She thrashed against the bed, but it was useless. Her weapons were locked away, out of reach. She cried out for help, but no one came. “Mother… Father,” she whispered desperately, but her voice felt frozen. The dream continued to spiral, the images now pulsing with the rhythm of her heartbeat.

Driven to reclaim control over her fate, she struggled. Her body shifted on the sheets, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. The sky above her twisted, false clouds forming—a storm of pure malevolence.

And then the shadows’ hands seized her, dragging her into a nightmarish world. She couldn’t breathe as she was pulled deeper into an abyss of insanity. She didn’t know where she was, but mercy didn’t exist here.

The hands tightened around her throat, and her silent screams filled her chest. Suddenly, she recognized the place. It was the catacombs, a forbidden, corrupted space. A lair of pure evil, spun from chaos itself. She tried to flee, but it was pointless. The putrid stench of decay cloaked her, suffocating her in the senseless slaughter of the past.

A voice finally broke through, shattering the nightmare. Cries and shouts echoed from all directions, pulling her consciousness back from the brink. It was nothing short of salvation—the voices of friends, comrades, and family. Slowly, she opened her eyes and clutched the bedframe. Fading images of nameless faces flashed before her, but something had called her back.

Rae cried out, her voice breaking the silence, and drew in a deep breath. She sat up, disoriented and trembling. The nightmare had released her, but part of her would never forget the madness.

The Next Morning

Rae was still trapped in the shadows of her nightmare when a warm hand gently shook her shoulder. Her eyes shot open, and for a moment, she was back in the endless, bloody corridor. But then she saw Alric’s face, his mild smile contrasting with the exhaustion in his eyes.

“Time to get up, Rae,” he said softly but firmly. “We’ve had enough rest—or at least we’ve tried.”

Rae sat up slowly, rubbing her face as the sweat from her restless night dried cool against her skin. The chamber was already stirring with life. Marcus was pulling on his boots, Tyren stretching and muttering complaints about the hard beds, and Celestine inspecting her uniform with the precision of an officer.

“Are you okay?” Alric asked as Rae forced herself to her feet.

“Yes,” she replied, her voice rough. She wasn’t ready to share the images of her dream—not yet.

Breakfast: A Strategy Meeting

The communal hall was bustling and loud as the group collected their breakfast. The clatter of trays and murmurs of countless conversations seemed to clear Rae’s mind. Taking a deep breath, she sat with the others at a secluded table.

Soren soon joined them, his shy demeanor still present, though he seemed more confident than the day before. Setting down his tray, he glanced nervously at the group before starting on his bread.

“So,” Tyren began, stirring his porridge, “we’re still training tonight, right?”

Rae nodded, leaning forward slightly. “Yes. But we also need to rethink our plan for the next steps.”

“What do you mean?” Celestine asked, her sharp eyes narrowing.

Rae paused before answering. “The depths are dangerous, we know that. We’ve seen we’re unprepared. But it’s not just about skill. We need more information. We can’t just keep moving blindly.”

Marcus nodded. “True. Training is important, but we need to know what we’re dealing with.”

Tyren smirked. “That’s my specialty. I reviewed some data last night. There are other access points—less guarded ones. I could try to decrypt more.”

“That’s risky,” Celestine warned. “If they catch you, it could put all of us in danger.”

“That’s why I won’t go alone,” Tyren countered, a spark in his eyes. “I’ll need someone to cover me.”

Rae shook her head. “Not yet. We need a clear strategy first. Our next expedition won’t be improvised. We do nothing until we’re ready.”

The group nodded in agreement, though Tyren pursed his lips in slight frustration.

Soren’s Suggestion

“Maybe…” Soren began hesitantly, his voice unsure. Everyone turned to him, and he flushed slightly. “Maybe we could ask someone who knows more?”

“And who would that be?” Celestine asked skeptically.

Soren swallowed and looked at Rae. “The older novices. They must know more about the Scola. Maybe even about the depths.”

A brief silence followed as the group considered his idea. Rae thought of the older novices who had already provoked them, the tension building between their groups. Yet Soren might be right—the senior students could hold the answers they sought.

“It’s a possibility,” Rae said at last. “But we need to be careful. Not everyone can be trusted.”

“If we find someone willing to talk, we might learn something,” Marcus added. “But it could also draw attention to us.”

The Plan for the Day

As breakfast came to an end, the group had finalized their next steps:

Tyren would continue working on the data, but with caution.

Celestine and Marcus would observe the older novices to identify potential allies or weaknesses.

Rae and Soren would focus on preparing the group, both physically and strategically.

“We’ll meet again after class,” Rae said as she stood up and picked up her tray. “And remember—no rushing. One wrong step, and everything we’ve built could come crashing down.”

The others nodded, and as they left the hall, Rae felt the tension in her body begin to ease. The day had only just begun, yet she knew every moment would bring them closer to the truth—or to danger.