The shadows were relentless tonight. Their whispered chorus came to her in a dense cloud amidst a darkened night sky, the bright azure of Lequian hour fading into a deep, unforgiving black.
She strained to listen for any stand out messages, but she only caught stray words, thrust at her as if they were spittle spewing from the lips of a scorned lover.
She opened her mouth to respond, to perhaps even ask them a question -- direct their focus -- but nothing came out. She was dreaming again, she realized. She should've known.
Shadows writhed around her, their voices synchronizing into a singular, disembodied hiss, speaking to her now as one.
When commotion brews below
An eye open among storms
Then the lovers meet as foe
A new cup mottled with thorns
As soon as the recitation ended, she was baptized in darkness. No trace of an echo to be heard, no glimmer or glow to be seen. She didn't know why these prophecies came to her this way, only that this was her least favorite part. The sensory deprivation was unsettling at best -- unbearable at worst.
She took comfort where she could -- right now all the universe offered her was the knowledge that at some point, the suns would break over the horizon and she would be released from her dream shackles.