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[Martin Willow]

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The wind tore past Martin as he rode his nightmare down the path. Molly rode beside him, her nightmare keeping pace with him as they raced down the road. Grinning to himself and squinting against the bright sun that was bathing them both in its warm glow, the marked end of the race came into sight; a tree limb hanging low over the road on the left side. Turning his head to look at Molly, Martin saw her face full of determination and focused on the goal ahead. He started to look back, but noticed something odd. Molly’s nightmare, Night Eyes, was slowly turning a darker black. Even as he watched, the nightmare turned a pure black, blacker than any nightmare Martin had ever seen. Molly seemed not to notice the change.
Faintly then, Martin noticed small black tendrils grow and wave in the wind along the pure black form, it no longer clearly the nightmare it had been.. The tendrils grew and wrapped themselves around Molly’s legs, and slowly expanded away from the form to block out the scenery behind Molly. Black spots appeared on the road where the form’s feet landed, and Martin noticed they slowly expanded from their impact points to block out the ground in pure black. Looking back to Molly, she was looking down at herself as the blackness climbed her body. She looked up at him with fear in her eyes as he moved closer to her and reached for her hand. Her fingers nearly touched his, but the blackness enveloped her body, rendering her hand invisible against the black background. A pained look crossed her face and she made to scream, but then the blackness concealed her without a sound.
Martin leaned still to where she had been, reaching for the hand he expected to encounter, but he found nothing. Starring in disbelief, Martin noticed his armored sleeve was slowly darkening now. Looking down, his own nightmare was turning the pure black of Molly’s. It was also about to stumble on a root sticking out of the road. With only time to bring his arms up to shield his face, his nightmare tripped and hurled him into the air over its head. Predicting broken bones, Martin braced himself, uneasily noting he could only see the blackness beneath him. He held his arms rigid….and nothing happened.
Wind continued to rush past him, and a prevailing feeling of falling tugged at his stomach, informing it that it should have stopped a few floors up. Moving his arms, Martin was greeting with absolute blackness. The force of wind still suggested he was falling, but there was nothing visible beneath him, nor, as looking over his shoulder proved, anything behind him.
“Well, this is disagreeable.”
The falling feeling stopped immediately, and was replaced with absolutely no sense of up and down. Martin found himself able to rotate in the air, but only blackness greeted his eyes. Oddly he could see his own body, but nothing around him was visible. The sudden feeling of no true up and down set in, and combined with the inability to establish any points of reference, Martin felt a wave a nausea overwhelm him. Bringing one hand to cover his mouth, he extended his other in front of himself, desperately in search of anything to lean against. His hand contacted something solid barely half a foot away, and suddenly gravity kicked in again, slamming Martin face down onto a cold surface. The nausea vanished as gravity returned, but a bruise on his forehead developed.
Martin slowly lifted himself up on his arms, and looked around. Blackness continued to engulf his sight, but off to his right lay a form in a circle of light. Recognizing the clothing, Martin scrambled across the ground, reaching her side and looking expectantly at her. Eyes shut, Molly lay in a serene state, unmoving. As Martin reached out to brush her face and wake her, her skin slowly began to pale. Stopping mid-motion, he watched has she paled to a deathly white of her normally copper tone. He reached for her again, but she dropped down into the stone, out of reach. He could see her lying beneath the stone, but couldn’t reach her. Pounding on the stone did no good, and he collapsed with his face pressed against the ground, starring at his wife, just out of arms reach.
Martin lay there for some time. A scratching drew his attention away from her, finally. Entering his little circle of light, seemingly dragging itself under its own power, was a ebony skull. As soon as it fully entered the light, it stopped and turned to face him. To Martin’s eyes, the jaw line actually curved upward in an even more sinister grin than the skull already bore. The ebony skull then reclined back and inverted on itself, changing to a blood red and taking on a misty form. Finally it formed itself into a single word: Oblivion.

Martin’s eyes snapped open, and were met with the starry night sky of Malas, as seen from Molly’s garden rooftop. A cold sweat barely laced his brow, but his breathing and heartbeat were rapid nearly beyond comparison. Panic struck him and he nearly bolted upright, until he felt the familiar presence of his wife next to him, her arm across his chest and her head on his shoulder. The tension left Martin, and he quickly calmed his nerves. As though sensing his mood, Molly pressed herself closer to him. Gently embracing her, Martin relaxed and whispered “I’ll find a way, love…”
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Grand Paladin of THG