Fire… it was everywhere. Burning, dark flames, devouring everything it touched and leaving nothing behind, not even ashes.
And then there were those voice… Those screams! Screaming in agony, begging for mercy and the pain to end… No help came, and the flames just kept on growing, spreading so fast, and yet… he couldn’t see anything. It was nothing but black.
Moses knew this place, knew this scene, knew this memory. But he still couldn’t place it… how did he recognize all this?
He knew this was all scattered pieces of hidden memories repeating itself in his mind, that it couldn’t hurt him. Yet still, somehow he could feel the flames on his skin, burning him, the fear crawling down his spine. But it wasn’t his feelings... it was the poor souls who was lost in this tragedy so long time ago. Come to think of it, those screams had always sounded so very familiar as well.
He snapped his head around as he felt another presence behind him, catching the sight of a shadow running past him. He frowned, not having seen this before in this faded dream and followed it.
The scenery he walked in changed, and suddenly he found himself outside, facing a burning building with the demon fire growing and reaching higher up until it looked like it was about to swallow the sky as well.
A trembling voice made him turn his head, and saw the shadow he had followed before standing there, crying and holding onto to something for his dear life. He narrowed his eyes as the shadow slowly took another form, that of a small child with burns all over his small head. His eyes widen in realization. He knew those scars…
“Broth-“
“Ramses!”
The child turned to the older man who fell to his knees, staring in silent horror as the house slowly burned down to the ground. The child, Ramses, hiccupped a few times before reaching a small trembling hand towards the man, before having strong arms wrapped around him in a tight embrace.
Another cried was heard from the small arms of Ramses, and they both stepped back to look down at the crying baby.
Moses stopped breathing as he saw himself in the arms of the younger version of his older brother and uncle. Was this a memory? Or just another one of his many nightmares?
He reached out towards them, and panicked as he saw them fade away, like sand in the wind.
“Moses.”
He froze as he heard that dark voice, soft as silk but yet cold as ice. Slowly, he turned his head to look over his shoulder, already knowing what he would see but couldn’t stop himself from looking. There, as always in all these shattered dreams of memoires, stood the woman of Death, holding out a hand for him to take. One half of her body was that of a beautiful young maiden, while the other half was rotting corpse. She smiled wickedly, beckoning for him to take her hand that was nothing but bones again.
“You can’t run from me forever my boy,” she grinned, before shadows swallowed them both up with her laughter echoing inside his mind.
Moses shot up in alarm, breathing frantically and eyes the size of plates. He quickly took in his surroundings, before relived leaning back against the wall. Of course it had been another dream… Just like all those he’s been having his whole damn life!
Rubbing his head, he decided to take some fresh air before they arrived and so pushed himself up the floor. …apparently he must’ve fallen off his seat again. That, or his dear classmates decided to push him off.
Once stepping foot on the deck, he casually avoided a water balloon thrown at him, winking teasingly at the guy who had missed his target. He ignored the small group who wasted no time in whispering behind his back as he made his way over to ships railing, breathing in the fresh ocean breeze. It helped calm his nerves down. Really, one would think he was too old for silly nightmares. He knew that most of what he dreamed of what memories, but could never be sure if it was his own or someone else’s.
He still hasn’t told either Ramses or Korso, about these visions he sometimes gets. He still doesn’t know how it works exactly, as he has no control over this whatsoever, but at random times he’ll sometimes sees either past or future. It can happen if he touches a certain object, or when he accidently touches someone. However, all the visions ever show him are always if something bad has or will happen. Thus, given birth to his nightmares where he often has to guess if they’re his or other people’s memories. It sure gets confusing, and does no good to his sanity.
He sighed again and stared over the horizon, smiling a little as he saw the familiar building who had become his second home.
He recalled being scared as hell his first year at Avalorn, and plain out refusing to letting go of his uncle’s hand. Once it was his turn to step into the crest, he had silently prayed to be in the same house as his older brother, Gerwulf. But to his greater disappointment, it wasn’t a wolf he saw come out of the crest, but an Owl.
Ramses had only smiled and ruffed up his hair like he always did to cheer him up. Both his brother and uncle had said the Owlorn House was a great house, and he would fit right in, even if Moses enjoyed pranking a little too much.
As time passed, Moses had only been more sure of that he had gotten into the wrong house, as he despised being locked up inside to study or prepare for tests and what not, and always had a hard time paying attention to anything. The others in Owlorn didn’t think he fit in either, seeing as Moses loved to prank and skip classes, and would rather sleep during a lessons than pay attention. They even started to say he was fit more to be in the Vulpes, saying he shared more in common with them than either Owlorn or Gerwulf. He was seen as the prankster, the class clown, the loner who lacked any skills in socializing and was more cunning than wise. It was already annoying enough that now both his brother and uncle were teachers at the school… the silly rumors about him getting away with anything did bother him.
Moses sighed again to himself. The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Even now after 5 years in Owlorn, and about to start his 6th, he didn’t feel at home or welcomed in his own house. He didn’t really have any friends he’d hang out with at all time, and would rather run away on his own to prank other students or teachers and discover new things in their mysterious school. It was best if he avoided others anyway… especially since he wanted to try and avoid getting those visions and going all heart attacks in the middle of class.
“Well, here we go,” he mumbled to himself and stretched, and got ready to get off the boat and start his sixth year at Avalorn.
