I am on a mountainside. The sky above me is wine-dark, burgundy clouds tinged in copper by the setting sun. I can hear the thunder moving away, growing ever-fainter. The storm has passed.
The black-haired girl is here. So too is the Lamordian. He is shouting at her, and his shouts are muffled peals of thunder that grow fainter. In her hand is a silver dagger, with which she strikes at her own shadow, over and over and over and over.
I am aware of another presence. It is difficult to define; a dreaded man-shape formed of vapour.
My weapon is in hand and I circle it, and it circles me. It knows my movements, knows me better than I know myself. Its beady eyes watch me, anticipating. Its long claws paw at the air, taunting.
It strikes, and we tustle. Its frozen breath reeks of ammonia. The mist-rat is famished, wild and desperate.
I throw it off and roll away. My blood is up now. My vision narrows; all I can see is the wispy shape of the mist-rat as it prepares to go another round.
It launches itself into the air, but I am ready.
I meet its gaze as it sails towards me. I see the instant it knows it has doomed itself, when the look of the confident predator vanishes, replaced by a frightened prey. It knows that I have bested it.
I step back and drive my harpoon into the creature's spine, spearing it to the mountainside. It shrieks an unhuman shriek of wind and screaming metal. And it dies.
I retrieve my weapon. I wipe misty ichor from its tip. I know something is wrong.
There is a jolt, then a shudder. Loose stones skid between my ankles. The mountain is collapsing, I cannot keep my footing. I scrabble for something to hold on to, but there is nothing. Nothing I can grip. The waves are lashing below me, laughing, crying.
I start falling, hurtling down the mountainside to the ocean that consumes it. I fall faster, and faster, and just as I am about to hit the towering water..
I wake up.