Sister, I had a dream last night.
In my dream, you returned to the Falzchen from your excursion into the Alibrean Wastes.
I recognized your black scoutcraft, Ghostlight, as it descended into the hangar, and I waved to you from below.
As you emerged from the cockpit, I immediately noticed a strange sword at your hip. Its black hilt was adorned with a red gem that gleamed under the hangar’s harsh, white light. I could have sworn it was staring at me.
You spared few pleasantries as you marched past me, offering only a reassuring tap on my shoulder. I noticed your hand remained fixed on the sword’s hilt, as though you were prepared to draw it at any moment.
In any case, I didn’t take it personally. I simply assumed you were eager to report back to Father Zaleri.
As with any dream, the continuity was illogical.
The next thing I knew, I awoke to the shrill wail of the Falzchen’s emergency alarm system. Sirens screamed through the ship’s corridors.
I found myself sprawled across the floor of the Recollection Hall. Darkness all but swallowed the chamber, broken only by the intermittent amber glow of the emergency lights, which cast fleeting glimpses of my surroundings.
An inscrutable pain coursed through me before I realized my left arm had been destroyed. I tried to move, but something heavy pinned me in place. To my horror, I discovered it was Sister Basilika’s body lying atop me, her limbs twisted in a manner incompatible with life. Her face was frozen in terror, eyes wide and mouth agape, as though she had witnessed some unspeakable horror.
Summoning what little strength remained, I pushed myself upright and searched for the source of the chaos. In the darkness, I could make out the forms of a dozen more sisters scattered across the floor, unmoving.
I peeked through the doorway into the hallway beyond and heard the sound of clashing steel. In the amber light, I could make out the silhouette of a great wolf-like beast with a blackened crimson mane at the end of the hallway, thrashing violently as though locked in combat with some unseen foe.
The beast seemed to notice me as the door creaked open and it rushed toward me. Instinctively, I raised my remaining arm, as if it could somehow shield me from its rending claws. I closed my eyes to meet my fate.
Instead, I felt the sensation of the beast’s fur brushing gently against my chest. I caught the faint silage of perfume from it — it had a smoky and earthy scent, like incense. Guided by some strange instinct, I reached out and stroked its head. Only then did I notice that its great yellow eye was bleeding, punctured by a sword wound.
I could have sworn I heard the Beast whisper my name.
“Ell…” The beast succumbed in my arms.
From the darkness at the far end of the hallway, I saw the glimmer of the crimson eye set within that strange sword. Behind it stood the faint outline of the humanoid figure wielding it.
As the figure drew closer, I finally recognized your face, cast beneath the amber glow of the stuttering emergency lights.
You walked past me, and faded back into the darkness of the corridor.
“Sho?” I called out. But you did not respond.
When the adrenaline finally left me, the pain returned all at once from where my left arm had once been. My vision blurred. The hallway spun around me.
Then, I collapsed.
- Ell’s dream diary, log no. 9322]
