Dead Princess Duet, Prologue

So, I was able to copy-paste the Dead Princess Duet file from my laptop and finished in our desktop. Yay.

Please comment and rate. :D

Dead Princess Duet

Prologue: Nightmares

Every night, I dream about you. Every night, I watch you die. Again and again and again. Forgive me, Milica. If only I were stronger then.  Maybe. Just maybe. I could have saved you. Why? Why did I let you go?  I'm sorry.

*   *   * 

The first thing I realized when I awoke was that I was sitting up in my bed, and that my heart was pounding in my chest. The next was that it was the dead of night, and the room was blanketed in darkness, except for a small area at the side of the bed that was bathed in silver moonlight. I then noticed the four forms kneeling around me. I stared at them and they at me for a few moments of awkward silence. One of the forms, the one farthest to my left, broke the silence.

"Another dream about her, Alioth?" came an unmistakably elven female voice from the form.

"What else have I dreamt of lately, Lesa?" I sighed, gazing absentmindedly into the black shadows that clung to the walls and floor of the room, shaking my head.

She didn't reply, neither did the other three, for they all knew the answer.

Never have I had a peaceful sleep since that fateful day, six months ago. The day Milica Illancet, one of our companions, died in battle-- died when I could have saved her! She fell in front of us, impaled by an opponent's blade-- and only a few steps away… How could I let that happen?

I shook away my thoughts and told them, "I'm all right. Please, go back to sleep. Sorry for waking you all up at this time."

For a moment, the four of them didn't move. Then, slowly, beginning with Lesa, they all got up and went to bed. One figure, the only male in the group of four, lay down on the bed on the other side of the open window. As the other three left the room, I let myself fall into my bed, my heart still pounding hard in my chest.

"Are you really alright, Alioth?" came a voice from my right. "You've been having nightmares every night, and it's already been six months."

"I told you, I'm fine. Please, just get some rest. We have work to do tomorrow, remember, Azareth? The Zhentarim is planning something. We need your spells if we're going to survive." I told him, while staring at the ceiling.

"Suit yourself." Azareth replied, then he went back to sleep. I continued staring at the ceiling, trying to bring myself to rest, to close my eyes for the night, but the thought of that nightmare kept me awake for a longer time than I, or anyone else in our group, would have liked. Then, finally, as my heart began to slow its frantic pace, my eyelids began to feel heavier, and I simply let sleep take over me once more.

*   *   *

I saw gray. An infinite gray, as if an impenetrable fog had surrounded me.

I felt weightless, as though an invisible force was keeping me aloft in a place where no gravity existed.

A figure appeared in front of me, one that I instantly recognized. It was Milica Illancet, exactly as I remember her on that day so long ago. She wore her usual fine white shirt that had lacy cuffs, a pair of leather breeches and tall boots. Her beautiful dirty blonde hair flowed in ripples down to her shoulders. I saw her delicate face, and her angelic smile, while she looked at me with her deep green eyes-- eyes that seemed to pierce into my soul.

I wanted to call out to her, to say the things I never had a chance to say. I wanted to tell her that I loved her, that I was sorry, but nothing would come forth from my mouth. I wanted to go to her, to hold her in my arms, and keep her safe-- The one thing I had failed to do, but I couldn't. I tried to run towards her, but no matter how much I tried, it never seemed like I had moved any closer.

Then I heard it again, just like it was last time and the time before. Those accursed footsteps that have been echoing in my mind for what seemed like eternity.

The footsteps began to fade, and another figure appeared in front of me, this one more vague than the last. But I did not need to see it clearly to know who it was. The figure raised its sword, a strange cross between a greatsword and a rapier. It looked too thin for its length, but I knew better. I knew that that sword was made of the strongest of metals.

I also knew the outcome of this battle.

Milica drew her sword and stepped to the side, dodging the figure's first blow as she went around for a counterattack. The figure snapped up its sword in an impossibly quick block, easily defeating Milica's attack.

The battle continued for what seemed like an eternity, with Milica always on the losing side. Every single one of her thrusts was either blocked or dodged, and she only narrowly escapes the attacks of her formidable opponent. The gray space around me began to echo with the loud ring of sword hitting sword as I tried to get to Milica. Once again, I could not cover the distance between us, and all I could do was watch in horror as she began to slow down, exhaustion beginning to take over her. The

The figure took a quick step back, and in that instant, aligned its sword with Milica's chest. It sprang forward, too quick for the eye to see, and the next thing I saw was the image of that sword cutting through the chest of the woman I loved, stopping her heart forever.

I stood there, in the space created by my mind, and began to weep as everything around me turned from dull gray, to blood red.

It had happened again... The same nightmare I have every night…

*     *     *

I woke up again, for the second time that night, and cupped my head in my hands.

"Will I never get a peaceful sleep?" I asked myself, seriously doubting it.

"Did you have another nightmare, mister?" came a voice from somewhere in the room. It was the sweet, innocent voice of a child, and from the corner of my eye, I could discern the shape of a young girl. She was short, and she looked as though she were around the age of eight, but something was very unusual about this particular child: something that smelled of black magic. I could feel a chill run down my spine as I felt her aura in the room. "hee hee hee… I thought grown-ups never had nightmares..."

At that, I snapped my head around to face her, and for a split second, I was overcome with horror beyond comprehension. For a split second, I saw her face, that delicate face warped by the dark powers of necromancy, with eyes that were pitch black and slug-white skin. Then, as quickly and as quietly as she had appeared, she was gone.

They say that nightmares are only a figment of one's imagination, that they are harmless, even that they can become a way for us to overcome our greatest fears.

Those people have never experience nightmares like the one I was about to go through, and I pray they never will.